“If the doctor has declared your husband fit and healthy, this could do the trick. But as I’ve explained, you don’t drink this, you use the contents for massaging. It’s fractionated coconut oil with drops of ylang-ylang, orange, ginger, black pepper, and patchouli essential oils. And this,” she held up the smaller bottle, “you use in your diffuser as I’ve shown you. This is a mixture of tangerine, bergamot, ylang-ylang, sandalwood, cedarwood—” 

Behind her, the bell rang and the door opened. Her whole body stiffened, and in that moment she knew exactly who had entered her shop. Blake Davidson. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. The tingle down her spine was confirmation enough. Unfortunately, Lilly, her assistant, had already left for the day; otherwise she might have had a warning. 

The last time she’d seen him was nearly two months ago at her sister Charlie’s wedding. How he’d ended up being one of Logan’s groomsmen, she still hadn’t been able to figure out. She hadn’t known he and Logan had become friends. 

Before the wedding, he’d been gone for about a month and he’d disappeared again immediately afterwards. Since then, she hadn’t heard anything from him. He’d opened a dojo in town earlier this year, and she and Charlie had been to a few of his self-defense classes. 

But then they’d received a message he’d be out of town for a while—someone else would be teaching his classes. That was at the point where her own life had begun to fall apart, and neither she nor Charlie had been back for another class. 

So she’d noticed he was gone. Well, not really noticed.. It wasn’t as if she was thinking about him, but… 

“Lindsay?” Suzie asked, and Lindsay realized she’d stopped mid-sentence. 

“Uhm…” She looked down at the bottle in her hand and nearly groaned out loud. To be talking about spicing up the bedroom, of all things, when Blake was standing behind her—seriously? Talking a deep breath, she continued, “Vanilla and manuka essential oils.” 

Suzie was beaming. “I’ve never heard of any of those, but if they can help my Donald, I’m willing to try it.” Again, she looked furtively around her and when she spotted Blake, she tried her whisper again. “So where do I put it?” 

Desperately, Lindsay swallowed the hysterical laughter threatening to escape while she willed the heat creeping up her neck to disappear. Goodness, who still blushed at twenty-six? She lowered her voice. “You can apply it to the inner wrists, the lower back, behind the ears, your neck, and the inner thighs, lower abdomen.” 

Grinning, Suzie leaned forward. “The thighs?” Her eyes twinkled. “Well, dear, I like that idea.” Again, her whisper was loud enough to be heard all over town. 

At this point Lindsay had to turn around. Without directly looking at Blake, she nodded in his direction. “Hi, Blake. Are you looking for me?” Her heart did its usual happy skip-and-a-jump, as it seemed compelled to do whenever the blasted man was near her. 

“Yes.” 

Typical Blake reaction. He never used more than one word if he could help it. 

“Just a moment.” The silly movements of her heart she would simply ignore, as she’d been doing ever since the night she’d met him. So far, it had worked. 

Lindsay walked towards the till, Suzie hot on her heels. 

“And I can phone you if this doesn’t work?” Suzie wanted to know. 

Lindsay smiled as she rang up the transaction and put the items in a bag. “You’re a beautiful woman, Suzie.” Lindsay smiled. “Be you—that’s all you need to do,” she said encouragingly. 

“You really think so?” Suzie asked, patting her hair. 

Seeing the uncertainty in the older woman’s eyes, Lindsay took her hand and led her to the mirror against the wall. “Look at those legs and your high cheekbones? Women spend a lot of money trying to get this look, but you already have it.” 

Suzie turned to her, smiling. “Really?” 

Lindsay smiled and nodded. “Really.” She handed her the package. “Let me know how it goes.” She winked. And with a giggle, Suzie finally left the shop. 

It was after five and the sun had already set. It was the beginning of November and although Alisson winters were mild in comparison to the rest of Montana, this time of day temperatures dropped. It was cold and Lindsay wanted to get home. 

It was Friday, the end of a long week, and she couldn’t wait to be on her own. She loved her customers, but after a busy few days, she needed some alone time to recharge. Introvert problems, her sister, Charlie, called it. 

With a last wave in Suzie’s direction, she turned back to Blake. He was standing near one of the counters, hands in pockets, clearly not feeling too comfortable amidst her oils and creams and Christmas decorations. 

For the first time, she really looked at him. Oh, my. He’d grown a beard since she’d last seen him. She’d never liked beards, but on this tall, dark, and ridiculously attractive guy, it only added to his shouldering good looks. 

Grinding her teeth to make sure her jaw wouldn’t drop, she turned away. “So, which essential oils are you interested in buying today?” 

Here she was, a grown woman, just about salivating because a gorgeous man was in her shop. Maybe she should seriously begin to think about dating again. “There is an essential oil for just about every problem you may have. Suzie’s husband, for instance…” The minute the words left her mouth, Lindsay nearly groaned out loud. Normally, she kept clients’ issues completely confidential, but Suzie had already let that cat way out of the bag. Even so, why talk about Suzie’s bedroom problem, of all things, while she was talking to Blake? 

“I don’t have problems in the bedroom.” His voice was as smooth as Tennessee whiskey. 

Lindsay closed her eyes for a minute. He didn’t have to tell her that; one look at his broad shoulders, square jaw, and confident stride made it clear he was all man and… Oh, my goodness, the very last thing she should be thinking about was Blake and bedrooms. 

“Okay, so maybe something for your beard?” Why didn’t she simply shut up? She motioned to one of the shelves. “I make a very nice oil with lavender, peppermint, lemon, and coconut oil. You should try it.” 

“I don’t…” he began gruffly, before he swore softly and took out his wallet. “Okay, give me the damn oil.” 

She took a bottle down and walked towards the till. “Anything else?” 

“No,” he said tersely and paid her. 

She gave him the package and turned away. She began to clear the counters and checked whether all the cupboards were closed. 

“Can you stand still for one damn minute?” Blake growled. “I want to talk to you.” 

“I have to finish here; I want to go home. It’s been a long day and I’m hungry.” 

“Great. So am I. I’ll take you out to dinner.” 

Exasperated, she looked at him. When had he moved so close to her? “I have food…” 

“In that case, you can feed me.” And moving away, he began closing the shutters at the windows. 

“Blake, seriously…” she began hotly, but he ignored her. 

“I mentioned I want to talk to you. So I can either take you to dinner or you can give me dinner—your choice.” His voice was clipped; he was clearly in the habit of barking out orders. 

She straightened her shoulders. “Well, I don’t want to talk to you,” she said. Ever since she’d met this man in the local bar earlier that year, he’d been irritating the living daylights out of her. Okay, maybe irritating wasn’t the right word. “Bothering” was probably a better description. 

He looked at her; something flashed in his eyes, leaving her breathless. She quickly moved towards the cupboards where she kept her bag and jacket. He turned her inside out with just a look, and she didn’t like it one bit. “Good day. I’m leaving now.” 

Clearly exasperated, he rubbed a hand over his face. “Lindsay, damn it, I have to make sure you’re safe, I want to—” 

“You’re my self-defense instructor, that’s it. Well, you were before you left, that is.” Fed up with him and her stupid fluttering heart, she picked up her bag and jacket. “I haven’t been back to the dojo; I’m fine. And I’m not your problem. I don’t need looking after, thank you very much. I can do that myself.” 

“Someone tried to run you down, damn it! Or have you forgotten that?” 

Pulling on her jacket, she shrugged. “They’ve caught the guy, haven’t they? Anyway, as I’ve said, not your problem.” 

He opened his mouth and closed it again, pressing his lips together. 

Maddened, she took the keys of the shop out of her bag and walked towards the door. 

“I don’t think the guy who’s been taken into custody is your real problem, as I think you very well know. I have information you’ll want to know about,” Blake said from behind her. “It’s about Mark Taylor.” 

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she stopped. “What information?” Slowly, she turned to face him again. Fear threatened to cut off her oxygen, and she had to inhale deeply. Mark Taylor was the guy who’d nearly broken her spirit, and she hated the fact that the mere mention of his name still made her shiver. 

“Let’s go for dinner and I’ll tell you.” 

Instantly, fear was replaced with irritation. “This is blackmail and you know it. Fine. But just remember this is no date.” Turning on her heel, she walked out of the shop. 

Blake followed her out. With unsteady fingers, she tried to lock the door but she dropped the keys. Quickly bending forward, she put out her hand to pick it up, but Blake was already reaching out and her fingers encountered his. When she looked up, only a few centimeters separated their faces. 

Her breath left her body in one swoosh and for a moment she was unable to move. 

“When I ask you out on a date, you’ll know it.” Chocolate brown eyes darkened. 

Inside her, something moved. Rattled, she jumped up and turned away. He’d said “when” he took her on a date, as if it was something that would definitely happen. 

Swearing beneath his breath, Blake locked the door to Lindsay’s shop. What the hell was wrong with him, talking about dating? He was here to help her, not spook her. 

Following her to his car, his eyes glued to her very tantalizing ass, he swore under his breath. Oh, man. His body was still not under control after listening to her explaining to a customer how she could improve things in the bedroom. The very graphic pictures her words had conjured up had given him a few embarrassing moments. Fortunately, both women had been too busy to notice his response. 

How the hell had he ended up in this situation? From the moment he’d met Lindsay Wilson at the local bar in June, she’d managed to make him feel things he couldn’t allow himself to feel. Ever. With soft, blond hair cascading down her back and eyes the color of the sky on a clear day, she literally took his breath away. 

He’d come to Alisson with one clear goal and that was to get away from trouble of any kind. But on the first night he was in town, he’d met this incredibly beautiful woman. She was trouble, he’d known, and that was before he’d heard about her past. 

Blake checked the street and made a mental note of the green car parked down the way as he quickened his step to open the door for her. But she’d opened the door already before he could reach it. 

“Let me…” he said and opened the door wider. 

“Seriously, I can lock and open doors, you know? Been able to since I was three.” And with a shake of her head, she got into the car. 

Today she was wearing a pair of jeans and boots, but he’d seen those long legs in summer and remembered the satiny, long limbs that were now covered in denim. And although the jacket she was wearing at this moment cloaked most of her body, he also had a vivid memory of a delicate lace top hugging generous curves he couldn’t seem to get out of his head. 

Lace. She always wore lace. Muted pinks, blues, or yellow, but always lace. Even in this cold, the top underneath her jacket was made of soft pink lace. 

He closed her door and muttering and cursing, walked around to the driver’s side, again furtively looking at the green car down the street. It hadn’t moved and was too far away for him to establish whether anyone was sitting inside. 

Taking a deep breath, he got into the car and closed the door. Floral notes of Lindsay’s perfume, or whatever the hell she used, floated towards him, sending his already over-stimulated senses into a higher gear. Damn it, this had been such a bad idea. 

Pressing his lips together, he switched on the car. 

“I don’t know why you insist on taking me out to dinner. It’s obvious you’re not very happy about it. It’ll make it much easier for both of us if you simply tell me about Mark and get it over with. There is no need to discuss it over a meal, seriously. And I can get home on my own.” 

Blake ignored her, put the transmission in gear, and slipped onto the road, driving past the green car. And yes, there was someone inside, all right, but the guy’s head was turned away so he couldn’t see what he looked like. 

When he had passed the parked car, he again checked in the rearview mirror. Now the lights of the car shone brightly. Was the person behind the wheel following them, or was it a coincidence? Blake took out his phone and dialed the local police office’s number. 

He’d never believed in coincidences. After he’d given them the number plates of the car, he checked again in the mirror. This time, the car wasn’t behind them any longer. But he was still uneasy. 

“What was that all about?” Lindsay asked, motioning to his phone. 

“Nothing you have to worry about.” 

“Blake Davidson, so help me…” She inhaled deeply. “I can look after myself; nobody appointed you—” 

He stepped on the brake and stopped the car before he made the conscious decision. When he turned to Lindsay, she was very close to him. The space inside the car had shrunk, or so it seemed at the moment. 

“I’m worried about your safety,” he said. 

“Why? You don’t even know me!” she cried out. 

“Don’t you think I know that?” he muttered, his eyes on her lips. She had the most incredible mouth. 

“So why…?” she began, but he was done talking. 

He had to tell her what he knew, and then get the hell away from her as soon as possible before he did something they would both regret. Putting the car in gear, he stepped on the pedal, glancing in the rearview mirror again. Still no green car. 

Beside him, Lindsay was muttering, but he tried his best to ignore her presence. “Bar or restaurant?” 

“Restaurant, please. Eleanor and Brooke will probably be at the bar, and if Eleanor sees us together, she’ll be organizing a wedding before you know what’s hit you.” 

He drove in silence for a few moments, his brain making giant leaps before he took the next left turn. “Well, then, we’ll make it the bar.” 

“Haven’t you heard what I’ve said?” she asked, clearly annoyed. 

“I’ve heard you. Eleanor is going to think we’re a couple. And maybe it’s not such a bad idea.” 

Lindsay looked completely baffled. “You… I … Don’t be ridiculous! Why on earth would you say that?” 

He parked next to the bar. “Mark Taylor left South Africa a week ago with a plane ticket to Bozeman. He was seen at the airport in Bozeman the next day, but since then nobody knows where he is.” And only when he’d finished speaking did he turn to face her. 

The lights from the streetlamps outside fell over her, revealing the paleness of her face. Her lips trembled and she put a hand against her mouth. He suppressed the overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay. The two times in his life he’d promised that to someone, things hadn’t turned out as planned. 

“Your sister and her husband are in Seattle for a month,” he continued. “Your brother is back in South Africa, settling his affairs before he returns to Alisson, but it could take months. You live alone at the moment. With Taylor around, I don’t think it’s safe for you to be on your own. If we’re a couple…” 

Lindsay looked down at her clenched fists. She was upset and angry but her heart—and this was driving her crazy—was excitedly bouncing around at the thought of having Blake staying with her. 

It was a ridiculous idea. Adamantly, she shook her head. “I don’t need any looking after, thank you very much. And even if… Please note the ‘if’…you stay at the house, there is no reason to pretend we’re a couple. This is the twenty-first century.” 

Opening the car door, she jumped out. “I could stay with Eleanor or Brooke. I’m not lying to anyone. Besides, nobody will believe we’re a couple. I don’t even like you.” 

He got out quickly and put his hand out to stop her from leaving. “If you stay with other people, you’ll be putting them in danger, as well. Just think about it. You don’t have to like me, but I am going to stay with you until this guy is behind bars, even if I stay out on the porch.” 

Shrugging off his arm, she stomped towards the entrance of the bar. After a few steps, she turned around, her eyes narrowing. “How do you know Logan and Charlie are in Seattle and Gavin is in South Africa? Do you keep tabs on my family? But the biggest question is why do you know all these things about my life?” 

“Let’s have dinner. Maybe you’ll be in a better mood once you’ve eaten.” And while she was still sputtering, he put a hand behind her back and guided her towards the entrance of the bar. 

Under his hand, her whole body was shaking. Blake clenched his teeth. None of the questions she’d just asked weren’t ones he hadn’t asked himself a few hundred times over the past week. 

The simple answer was he was worried about her because there seemed to be someone out there, intent on harming her. He’d always protected and served—that had been his job—it was also the way he lived his life. 

But the answer to why he felt so protective towards Lindsay Wilson wasn’t one he wanted to think about for too long. The mere thought something could happen to her made him break out in a cold sweat. 

So no, there weren’t any logical answers to any of her questions, but he had to do this. It was that simple.