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part.”
    Putting a dollop of ointment on his index finger, he smeared it over her cut. She was absolutely certain it shouldn’t feel good. “What’s the worst part?” he asked.
    â€œYou’re so—” The word gorgeous popped into her head. She popped it back out with frenetic haste. “I just . . .” She glanced to the right. Outside, the half moon was framed in a sky as black as an Angus steer. “I don’t want to disappoint Emily,” she said.
    He was watching her. She could feel his attention like sunshine on her face.
    â€œWhat does Em have to do with this?” he asked and eased the ointment to the medial end of her scratch.
    Casie refused to close her eyes at the luxurious feelings. “She’s been through a lot.” In actuality, Casie wasn’t entirely sure what the girl had endured before her arrival at the Lazy. But drugs had been involved. And theft. Emily was naturally talented in a host of ways. There was no reason to believe she wouldn’t be just as gifted a thief as she was a chef. “I don’t want her to be hurt again.”
    â€œMe either,” he said. His voice was low and steady.
    She skipped her gaze to his, wondering if they were still talking about somebody else.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said. The words were slow and earnest, his expression somber for once as he drew a deep breath. “I should have told you about the baby.”
    She glanced away, remembering the conversation they’d had just a couple of months before. Remembering the pain of learning that Colt’s ex-girlfriend had been expecting his child. Remembering his agonized expression when he’d told her of the abortion, unsanctioned by him, but maybe not entirely unhoped for. “Yes. You should have.”
    â€œI’ll make more mistakes,” he said. His eyes were dark, his tone steady. “But they won’t be with other women.”
    For a moment she considered pretending she didn’t know what he was talking about, but there was no point. His hands were like magic against her skin, his gaze like moonlight on hers. She was drowning in it, falling under his spell, but she shook her head and pushed to her feet.
    â€œThat’s what Bradley said.”
    He gritted his teeth and rose beside her, so close they shared the same breath. “You two were engaged when he cheated on you,” he reminded her. “You’d agreed to marry him.”
    â€œI know it’s different, but—”
    â€œDifferent!” He laughed out loud. The sound was coarse and angry. “Do you really think I would have given another woman a glance if we were engaged?”
    â€œYes, I do. I mean . . .” She laughed, feeling crazy. “Come on, Dickenson . . .” She moved away, putting distance between them like a barbed wire fence. “You’re not exactly marriage material.”
    â€œWhat am I, then?” he asked.
    She shook her head. “You’re . . .” She paused, fighting to find something that wouldn’t make her sound like a lovesick imbecile. But he was so tempting, so rough and hard and hopelessly attractive. “You’re the stuff dreams are made of, and I’m not the dreaming type.” She turned away.
    He said nothing to refute her statement. Nothing to assure her that she, too, was desirable. But what did she expect? She would never in a thousand years match his cosmic appeal. “No.” She blinked back her tears and raised her chin as she shook her head. “You’re not the marrying kind, Colt.”
    Still he said nothing.
    She drew a deep breath, steeling herself as she turned back toward him.
    But he was gone. Or at least, for a fraction of a second, that’s what she believed, until her gaze dropped. He was kneeling in front of her.
    Her breath jammed tight in her throat. Her heart ceased to beat.
    â€œCasie,” he began, but in that second the door burst