“I don’t mind real labor, Cat.” Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he stepped closer and sat down in a chair opposite her. He dropped his elbows onto his knees and leaned closer. “You needed help. I knew, deep down, that you wouldn’t take my help if you didn’t think I needed the job. Was I wrong?”

  Still glaring, she stuck out her chin and refused to answer.

  “That Sunday night…the night we danced on the bar…”

  “Don’t even go there,” she snapped.

  He ignored her. “That night, Banks made up that bullshit story about me needing a place to crash and not having a ride.”

  “Yeah, he did. I suppose he thought it was terribly funny.”

  “In his own, twisted way, he was trying to help me. Trying to give me a chance with you. I guess we’d both figured that once the Four G’s finished playing that weekend, I wouldn’t have any excuse to see you again.”

  She would have found a reason, but she didn’t say that. “But after he made up all those lies, you went along with them.”

  “I was about to tell you the truth, but when I opened my mouth to, you started talking about how much you really did need help. I thought if you knew the truth you’d politely thank me for the offer, push me out, then try to do everything by yourself.”

  Yeah, she probably would have. Rubbing a weary hand over her eyes, she admitted it. “You might be right.”

  “I didn’t want to lie to you. But I didn’t want to leave, either. And if making you think I needed you as much as you needed me gave me a chance to see what could happen between us, that was more reason to go for it.”

  The truth continued to swirl around in her brain, so darned convoluted and yet so simple. When she thought about it, it was funny in an awful, twisted way.

  She’d originally decided to steer clear of Spence because she’d thought he was a reckless, broke musician.

  Then she’d plunged into an affair with him because she’d thought he was a reckless, broke musician.

  Now that she knew he wasn’t, she had absolutely no idea what she was going to do.

  “You know, I’d told myself before you walked into Temptation that first night that I wasn’t going to get involved with any more dangerous guys. You seemed a walking, living, breathing example of the kind of man I needed to steer clear of.”

  “But you changed your mind.”

  “Yeah. When Banks spun his story about you being the free-spirited drifter I’d imagined you were, I decided I’d have a wild fling with you before you rode away forever. Then I’d settle down and find someone serious and responsible to build a future with.”

  His jaw tightened. “A wild fling. That’s what you wanted?”

  She nodded. “That Sunday night when you offered to stay, I’d made the decision to seduce you.”

  “Because you thought I’d be good for a fling. No strings, no future, nobody you could ever really fall for.”

  That wasn’t quite the way she’d been thinking. At least, she hoped not. Because it sounded awfully hard when spoken out loud like that.

  “And now that you know I’m not, you still gonna shove me out of your life and go on to someone mature, responsible and serious?” He rose to his feet, thrusting a frustrated hand through his hair. “This is too damned confusing. You want me for one thing, then for something completely different. How the hell am I supposed to know what you really want? Do you even know?”

  She leapt to her feet, too. “Well, how am I supposed to know who you really are when you haven’t been honest with me since the minute you walked through my door?”

  Tension snapped between them, as sharp and wicked as a live wire. Cat sucked in a deep breath, trying to remain calm, when she really wanted to smack him for not being who she’d thought he was. And for being exactly who she’d once thought she wanted.

  Her head hurt.

  “You want to know who I am?” he finally said, his voice thick and ragged. “I’ll tell you.”

  He stepped closer, grabbing her shoulders and holding her steady. “I’m Dylan Spencer. The geeky little teenager you saved from annihilation in a school cafeteria more than nine years ago. The guy who fell a little in love with you right then and there. The one who went completely nuts over you one night when you stared into the flickering light of a bonfire.”

  Cat froze, having a hard time taking his words in. Was she really hearing what she thought she was hearing? She’d known him? He’d been a classmate? “You’re saying we went to school together?” she asked, completely dumbfounded.

  “For one year. I was a senior and you were in tenth grade. You barely noticed me…I didn’t exist for you. Too boring, too nondescript, too normal.” His fingers tightening, he added, “But you definitely existed for me.”

  Shocked, Cat remained completely speechless. She had no idea what to say. She hadn’t recognized him. Lord, she still didn’t recognize him.

  “It’s okay, I know you don’t remember me. There’s no real reason you would. Ours paths almost never crossed, we never officially met.” With a small laugh devoid of humor, he added, “And I’ve changed a whole lot more than you have.”

  As if realizing he’d been squeezing her hard, he released his grasp on her shoulders and stepped back. Shaking his head, he mumbled something under his breath, then turned on his heel, walking away from her.

  “Wait, Spence, you…I don’t understand this.”

  He paused. “Look,” he said, not turning around to face her. “You want to know the real reason, the main reason I lied to you about who I really am?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  His body straightened, his shoulders squaring, but still he didn’t turn around. Cat’s breath caught in her throat as she waited for something—some explanation that would make sense of all this.

  In a low voice that she almost didn’t recognize, he spoke again. “It’s because I didn’t want to see your eyes glaze over with boredom when you realized I wasn’t the kind of guy who’d ever interest you.” He paused, then spoke again. “I didn’t want to be invisible to you again.”

  Cat’s pulse raced and a roaring sound began to echo in her brain. Good Lord, this man thought he could ever be invisible to her? “Spence…”

  “It’s Dylan,” he bit out. “Josh and Banks are the only ones who call me Spence.” Striding to the front door, he put his hand on the knob. Before turning it, he finally glanced at her, his expression somber, his eyes hooded. “I’m sorry I lied to you, Cat. I’m truly sorry.”

  Opening the door, he began to step through it. But before walking out completely, he said one more thing. Something that made time stand completely still.

  “And Cat? It was you. The girl with the flames turning her hair to gold and the fire in her eyes? It was you. It’s always been you.”

  Then he walked out.

  AS IF IT WASN’T BAD ENOUGH that his relationship with Cat had just been blown all to hell, Dylan arrived home Thursday night to find his house trashed. Jeremy had apparently had his party. And considering the teen and two of his buddies were sprawled in lawn chairs by Dylan’s pool, it hadn’t ended yet.

  Staring in disbelief at the stains on his carpets, the hole in the family-room wall and the broken lamp, he bellowed, “Jeremy Garrity, what the hell did you do to my house?”

  The three guys launched out of their chairs and raced inside. Jeremy’s face paled when he saw the fury in Dylan’s. “You’re home early.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.” Glaring at the other two guys, he snapped, “Get to work or get out.”

  The two of them raced for the door, leaving so fast, Dylan barely had time to make a mental note of their faces.

  “I’m sorry, man, I guess it got kinda out of hand. I cleaned almost everything up, just had this little bit left to do,” Jeremy said weakly.

  Almost everything? Shaking his head in disbelief, Dylan simply stared at the young man. Somehow, though, he couldn’t muster up much righteous anger. It had simply dissipated. Because what the hell did a couple of stains and broken things matter in comparison to the mess he’d made of his life?

  He’d lost her. He’d lost Cat for good. Not only because he wasn’t the man she wanted, but because he’d lied to her.

  Rat-brained moron.

  But even as a part of him mentally kicked himself, another part of Dylan couldn’t stop thinking about Cat’s own confession. She’d considered him good enough for a wild fling—and nothing else.

  That rankled. So maybe it was just as well she hadn’t forgiven him for his deceptions and asked him to stay in her life. Because, at this point, he couldn’t be entirely sure whether she wanted him, Dylan Spencer, or the phantom responsible, grown-up man she’d told herself she had to find.

  “A buddy of mine has a brother who does drywall work,” Jeremy said. He was bending down to pick up a few pieces of trash, as well as some of his clothes, which were strewn over the furniture. “He’s coming out to fix the hole tomorrow.”

  “Forget it,” Dylan said, rubbing a weary hand over his eyes.

  Jeremy straightened and met Dylan’s stare unflinchingly. “No, it was my responsibility. I’ll pay to get it fixed.”

  Judging by the young man’s earnest expression, he meant what he said. Dylan agreed and gave one short nod. “Your motorcycle’s still parked where you left it. Cat has the keys.”

  The young man grinned. “So did it work? Is she all yours?”

  Unable to contain a bitter laugh, he merely walked away.

  Eventually, after cleaning up everything he could, Jeremy packed up his stuff and took off. Dylan barely noticed. He’d been locked in the spare room, where he stored his musical equipment.

  Music always calmed him, evened him out. The harder the tune, the cooler he got. So by late Thursday night, he was rocking the walls off his house. And he kept rocking them, throughout most of the night, wondering if his neighbors were gonna call the cops, but not really caring.

  Taking a break on Friday, he kept his mind off Cat for a while by checking his mail, paying his bills and getting in touch with a company he was supposed to do some programming for. But by that night, he was back in the studio, playing his guitar, his Fender or his keyboard, trying to work through his emotions the way he’d always worked through them.

  By Saturday, he finally began to feel back in control. Somewhat sane, at least. He’d done a lot of thinking—about the deceptions and the misunderstandings. Her words, and his own.

  One thing was clear: they couldn’t end things like this.

  He loved Cat. He wasn’t about to let her go without one more shot at making her believe that. Equally important, he truly believed she loved him. Or, at least, she loved the Spence she’d spent the past two weeks with.

  So if he had to become that man to get her back, then by God, that’s exactly what he’d do.

  CAT THOUGHT SHE’D DONE a darn fine job of hiding her unhappiness during her whirlwind trip to Georgia. She’d smiled and talked and teared up during Laine’s wedding to her beaming groom, Steve. She hadn’t fought with her mother and had enjoyed getting to know Steve’s family.

  And she’d somehow managed not to break down and cry one single time. At least, not while anyone was around.

  In private, she’d cried a lot.

  But something happened Saturday night while she stood in the shadows, watching Laine dance with her husband, beaming up at him with happiness so bright it blinded. She realized she had been looking at Dylan the same way all week. Finding out that he’d been less than honest about his real life hadn’t diminished her feelings. It had angered her, but it hadn’t made her miserable.

  No. What had made her miserable was the thought that she’d lost him. Really truly lost him. Exactly at the moment she’d started to realize just how long she’d had him.

  He’d fallen for her years ago when she’d been a flighty, silly high-school girl who hadn’t even realized he existed. Maybe it had been a mere teenage infatuation, though, given the intensity of the beautiful song—the song he’d unbelievably written for her—she suspected it was something more. It didn’t really matter. Because he’d most definitely fallen in love with her during the weeks they’d just spent together. Just as surely as she’d fallen in love with him.

  So what the hell was she doing in Georgia, when he was back in Texas, probably wondering if she was ever going to talk to him again? “I need to go home,” she whispered to no one in particular. “Now. Right now.”

  Which is what she did. Despite the fact that the reception was still going strong, Cat slipped away and headed straight for the airport.

  Her flight home wasn’t until early Sunday morning, but she managed to get a late Saturday night one instead. Before taking off, she’d made a quick cell phone call to Vicki, who did some quick research for her on the Internet. So she now had the home address of a certain Dylan Spencer of Tremont, Texas.

  The plane was on the ground in Austin by 3 a.m. and by five, she was back at Temptation, trying to decide whether to go straight to his place now, or go upstairs and catch a couple of hours of sleep first. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she’d seen his face and made sure she could salvage their relationship, she opted to skip the nap.

  The drive to Tremont wasn’t a long one, and she was at the front door of Dylan’s big two-story house by the time the sun started spreading its yellow-orange rays above the low-hanging clouds on the horizon. “Now or never,” she told herself as she reached for the doorbell. Jabbing it with her finger, she paused, then jabbed again. He’d probably need to be woken up.

  Suddenly, the door was yanked open and Dylan stood there, rubbing at his eyes, all scruffy and sleepy, wearing only a pair of tight jeans that he hadn’t even bothered to button.

  Yum.

  “Dammit, the party’s over, you’re a week late,” he snarled.

  “I am?”

  His head jerked up. “Cat?”

  “Yeah. Can I come in?”

  He stepped back out of the way, allowing her to enter.

  “I like your house.”

  “I can’t believe you’re here. The wedding…”

  “Was lovely.”

  “You went?”

  “Of course I did. Took a redeye home.”

  Their chatter was light and pointless and served only to let them both adjust to the reality of the moment.

  She was here. This was their last chance. And they couldn’t blow it.

  Taking a deep breath to work up her nerve, Cat started at the beginning. “Dylan…about high school. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he said. “If I’d had any guts at all, I would have actually approached you and introduced myself. You just scared the hell out of me.” Shaking his head, he admitted, “Sometimes, you still do.”

  She smiled a little. “You should have. You were very cute.” Seeing his look of surprise, she explained. “I dug out my tenth grade yearbook. You were adorable.” In her own defense, she added, “But you’re right, you looked nothing like you do now.”

  “Late bloomer,” he replied. He stepped closer, close enough so she could feel the brush of his bare arm on hers, not to mention the warmth of his body. “What are you doing here, Cat?”

  Tilting her head back, she stared into his dark brown eyes. “I came to thank you for the song. It called to me from the very first time I heard it.”

  As if not even aware he was doing it, he lifted his hand to her arm and began to stroke up and down, putting all her senses on red alert. “You’re welcome. Is that the only reason you came?”

  Slowly shaking her head, she admitted, “I also came to tell you I forgive you. I don’t like being lied to, but I think I can understand why you did it. You planned to tell me Friday, didn’t you? That’s the big ‘talk’ you wanted to have? And I suppose this house is what you wanted to show me?”

  He nodded. “All of the above.”

  Yeah. She’d surmised as much. Which made things a little better, anyway.

  As they both fell silent, Cat tried to figure out what to say next. Should she just blurt out her feelings? Try to be subtle? Jump on the man and be done with it?

  “I forgive you, too,” he finally said, still touching her so lightly, so delicately, she thought she’d melt. “For thinking I was only good enough for a fling. Hell, nine years ago, that would have sent me right out of my hormone-flooded mind.”

  Laughing, as he’d intended her to, she stepped closer, until the tips of her shoes nearly touched his bare toes. Their bodies were close together—so close she could see the way the wiry hairs on his chest moved with every breath she exhaled. Dying to tangle her fingers there, she forced herself to refrain, knowing there was more to be said.

  He spoke first. “Yesterday, I decided…”

  “Yes?”

  Clearing his throat, he continued. “I decided that if it was a fling you wanted, I’d become the man you wanted to have one with. I planned to be at your door when you got home today.”

  Not sure what he meant, she watched as he reached up and tugged at the small earring decorating his earlobe. It didn’t come off. “Oh, my God, you got it pierced.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You hate needles.”

  “No kidding. Which meant this was a real bitch.” He pointed to his upper arm, tilting a little so she could see the splash of color on his skin.

  She couldn’t help gawking at the small Texas star just below his shoulder. “A tattoo? You really went out and got a tattoo?”

  “I was just getting warmed up.”

  “Tell me you didn’t pierce anything else on your body. Stick out your tongue!”

  He visibly cringed at the possibility. “No more piercings. But there’s something parked in my garage that you probably oughtta see.”

  What he meant dawned on her almost immediately. “You did not buy a motorcycle.”

  “Not exactly,” he said with a small, apologetic shrug. “Cat, I’d intended to, but I just couldn’t do it. Because I knew damn well you’d want to ride it and I’d be crazy worried every second. But don’t you think it’s just as dangerous, just as on the edge, to buy one of those Segway people mover things?”