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acerbic comments that afternoon, when a breeze ruffled the surrounding ferns. Harper shivered.
    Jacob stood and waved for her to get up from her chair, as well. “We’ll move the table toward the fireplace. It’s going to get down in the fifties tonight, and that dress doesn’t offer a lot of protection, does it?”
    She laughed at his heavy-lidded, appreciative stare at her breasts. She couldn’t wear a bra with the dress because of its cut, and the breeze had made her nipples tighten. He’d clearly noticed.
    She stood and together they scooted the table and their chairs toward the fire.
    “It’s nice that they have the fire lit. Labor Day weekend is usually pretty warm in San Francisco,” she said when they were seated again.
    “I called and asked Jason to light it when I saw the forecast,” Jacob stated matter-of-factly. He noticed her surprised look. He reached across the table to grasp her hand. “I know how much you like a fire.”
    “I do, you’re right,” she said, smiling as she looked into his eyes. The fire brought out the pinpricks of amber in them. He ran his fingertip across her palm, and she instinctively opened her hand, giving him free rein. They stared at one another for a stretched moment as he stroked her. A bubble of intimacy and security seemed to encapsulate them.
    “A fire means warmth,” she murmured, “but more importantly, it means safety.”
    His lambent stare went suddenly hard. His hand tightened on her wrist. “Why did you say that?”
    She blinked, his question and taut grasp jerking her out of her sensual trance.
    “Why did I say
what
?”
    He leaned forward, his manner intent. Angry.
Hungry?
    “About the fire meaning warmth, but also safety?” he demanded.
    Her mouth fell open in disbelief. She snatched her hand from his hold.
    “What are you
talking
about?” she asked, utterly bewildered.
    He didn’t reply for a moment. He just studied her with that laser stare, like he was scanning her insides. Harper mentally squirmed under that harsh examination. Almost as quickly as his mood had shifted, he seemed to bring himself under control.
    “It was nothing. I’m sorry,” he said, leaning back and smoothing his tie, his expression suddenly unreadable.
    “It wasn’t nothing.
Jacob
?” He looked up and met her stare coolly. An uncomfortable thought swept through her. “Did . . . did what I say remind you of that other woman?”
    “
No
. It’s not that.”
    He noticed her openmouthed, stunned state.
    “Harper, I’m with you. There
is
no other woman.”
    There was something about the way he said it, with such bone-deep, forceful confidence. Still . . . she’d seen that flash in his eyes when she’d asked about the other woman, like a window that was opened just for a moment before it was slammed shut again. She couldn’t fathom the enigma of him.
    “Jacob, what are you thinking right now?” Harper probed softly.
    “Tell me what you’re thinking first.”
    She blinked at his quick counter.
    “I’m thinking that you’re a puzzle I can’t work out.”
    He gave a small, incredulous laugh, his reaction unsettling her even more.
    “
What
?” she demanded.
    He looked up when the waiter arrived to clear their dinner dishes.
    “It just struck me as funny,” she heard him say quietly. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

Chapter Four
    Twenty Years Ago
    They made a careful return to the front entrance of the cave, Jake guiding Harper step by step on where to stand and walk so as not to leave a trail. After they’d returned, he went back into the second cave and the cliff ledge to retrieve the clothing they’d left there before their dive. When he returned, Harper had pulled their extra shirts out of the pack.
    Once they’d dressed again in dry clothes, Jake insisted on checking Harper’s abraded wrists beneath the plastic bandages she wore. He was pleased to see the signs of Emmitt’s cruelty healing. He thought of suggesting that he