He stood wide-eyed on the back patio, holding what looked like a cardboard box full of weeds.

Charlotte let out a startled laugh and Joe looked past LoriSue's blond head to offer her a shy grin. He held up the box so she could see its contents-honeysuckle vines.

"Pardon me." Joe looked somewhat uncomfortable as the three kids pressed up against his back and the women gathered around him in the doorway. Hoover stopped barking just long enough to sniff the crotchi of Joe's jeans.

"He won't smell your butt if you give him something to eat," Hank said.

"Ice-cream cones are his favorite," Matt added.

"Yeah, you could rob this place blind if you gave him an ice-cream cone," Justin said.

"Come here, Hoov." Charlotte grabbed the dog by his collar and hauled him inside, looking up at Joe in apology. Her heart skipped a beat the instant she saw those eyes-the same eyes that had haunted her soul for as long as she could remember were now literally on her doorstep. Her dream man was one step from being inside her house. He was one step away from forever blending fantasy with reality, and it shook her to the core.

"Sorry about the dog," she mumbled, hoping no one could see that she was rapidly unraveling in Joe's presence.

"Come on in!" LoriSue stepped aside and motioned Joe into the family room with a dramatic sweep of her red-nailed hand. "We were just talking about you!"

"I… uh…" Joe looked from Charlotte to the box of dirt and vines, then back to Charlotte again. "I just wanted to tell you I was replacing the honeysuckle I damaged. Would you prefer that I plant these by the shed or would you like them somewhere else?"

Charlotte made brief eye contact with Bonnie, and in her friend's face she saw the wise advice to remain calm. It made her damn mad that Joe had this effect on her and that it was obvious to others. She took a deep breath and attempted to sound gracious, which was hard to do while wrestling with ninety pounds of dog.

'That's very kind of you, Joe. Right by the other bush would be great."

With a quick nod, he backed away from the door, and the kids adjusted their positions just enough to allow him to make a quarter turn.

"I'll help you dig," Matt said.

"Can we toss after?" Hank asked.

"Kids!" Charlotte transferred Hoover's control to Bonnie and stood up straight "Give Mr. Mills some room to breathe, please. We have to eat and get ready for activities, anyway."

The three kids produced openmouthed stares of disbelief.

"But, Mama!" Hank wailed.

"Figures." Matt said.

"What's for supper?" Justin asked.

"You won't like it." Matt assured him, rolling his eyes in disgust. "Stir-fried toe fungus again, with those alien vegetables."

"Tofu makes me barf," Hank said.

Joe glanced up at Charlotte with raised eyebrows and a crooked grin. "Sounds delish. Well, good afternoon, ladies."

Charlotte watched him take the long walk across her yard, cardboard box propped on a slim hip, the kids trailing behind him chattering nonstop, and noted once again how smoothly Joe Mills moved. She recalled the way he'd slipped down from his Jeep so long ago, giving her the first glimpse of his long, strong legs. She remembered seeing him glide and sway at his punching bag his first night in Minton. And she imagined that his footfall would be silent on her bedroom carpet-he could easily sneak up on her. Like a ghost. Or a predatory cat. The first few lines of a poem floated into her head:

He comes for me in the night

To suck the marrow from my bones

And the common sense from my head…

"That man is so unbelievably hot." LoriSue peered through the screen as she whispered. "I'm gonna get me some of that if it's the last thing I ever do."

Bonnie let go of Hoover, who flung himself at the doors, doubling his barking efforts. The dog meant well, but Charlotte knew that it was too late to protect her from Joe. The damage had been done.

"I'm going to tell her." Bonnie removed the bifocals from the bridge of her nose and let them dangle on their chain against her cotton nightgown.

"Tell her what?" Ned clicked off the TV remote and the lamp. "That ole Ned Preston thinks her neighbor could be anything from a CIA agent to a retired mall security guard? What's that going to accomplish?"

"I'm just worried about her."

"I know. Any new developments?"

"Well, today he planted honeysuckle to replace what he hacked to pieces."

Ned's laughter boomed through the bedroom. "That weed? It would've grown back on its own. I must have scared the shit out of him." He continued to chuckle as he made himself comfortable under the covers.

"I want you to find out who he is, Ned."

Ned sighed, propping the pillows behind his head. "How am I going to do that? I'm just a retired county police chief. Besides, it could be nothing. Maybe he's just who he says he is. Maybe he's a former cop who started writing books. It happens all the time."

"I don't know about that."

"You been to the bookstore lately, hon? Anybody can write a book. You don't necessarily have to have anything earth-shattering to say or any talent to say it."

"I guess."

"But I could try to get his fingerprints if you want"

Bonnie reached over her husband's body and turned the lamp back on. "You could do that?"

"I could lift his prints off something and run them and see what comes up."

"Are all cops fingerprinted?"

Ned frowned. "Most law enforcement officers will show up on AFIS-the FBI's fingerprint database. Fve heard some feds won't, if they do national security stuff, but most everybody else will. Your average beat cop should be there-not that Joe strikes me as a particularly average kind of guy."

Bonnie put a soft kiss on her husband's cheek and turned over on her side. "I've noticed that, too," she whispered.

Joe bolted from a deep sleep, his bare chest covered in a slick sheen of sweat, his hands shaking.

He couldn't have been out long. His wristwatch showed it was midnight, and only an hour before, he'd been staring at the ceiling, thinking about how he could find a way to get to know Charlotte while keeping her safe at the same time. That meant he'd fallen prey to the nightmare the instant he went into REM sleep, his subconscious answering him with the vision of Charlotte and her children covered in blood, lying right next to Steve in the Denny's parking lot

He jumped from the bed and nearly ran into his office. At least the feel of his chair beneath him and the familiar tap of the keyboard under his fingers provided some comfort and helped to steady his breathing.

He pulled up the Tasker file* not sure what he was looking for. He'd gone over the details so many times he practically had them memorized. But he found himself reading Kurt's obit once again, drawn to the man he saw in the photo * feeling a link to him, asking him to spill his secrets.

He supposed he wanted Kurt to tell him everything about Charlotte, everything he'd never have a chance to discover for himself. What did she wear to bed? What was her all-time favorite movie? Her favorite music group? How did she take her coffee?

Joe slumped down into the chair and let his head fall back. He wondered-did Charlotte come for her husband the way she'd come for him? Did she cry because it was so intense? Did she laugh with joy? Did she tremble at Kurt Tasker's touch the way she had at his own?

Most of all, Joe wanted to know this: How did it feel to be the man Charlotte loved?

He straightened again, closed the file, and sat in the pitch-dark, staring absently out the windows that faced Charlotte's house. He never did get those drapes. What was the point? He wasn't staying, didn't know where he was going, and didn't really give a damn.