He knew when to push and when to pull back.

"I'd love some." The food tasted better here; he'd give the mortal plane that much credit. The Chinese food had been phenomenal, as was the glass of orange juice he had enjoyed in lieu of coffee that morning. He could picture a life of overeating and then burning off all the extra energy in bed with Stacey.

Paradise. A dream.

"Hey!" he said with exaggerated mock surprise. He lifted a hand to his ear. "Hear that?"

She froze on the third step with a frown marring the space between her brows. Then her eyes widened. Tossing a quick glance over her shoulder at the porch, she cried, "You fixed the door!" Her delighted smile hit him hard, because this time it lit up her beautiful green eyes.

He shrugged as if he weren't all puffed up with manly pride. "Technically, it was the little arm thingy that didn't work."

Stacey came down the last few steps and handed him a glass. She caught one his fingers with a quick scissor of her own and held him in place. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome." Connor stood there a moment, forcing himself to breathe in measured rhythm.

She looked away. Releasing him, she walked over to the porch railing and rested her elbows atop it. She seemed melancholy and he didn't know what to say, so he sank into the nearby swinging bench and drank deeply.

"With your family so dedicated to military service," she began, "why did you retire? Were you injured?"

Connor inhaled sharply, debating how to reply. In the end, he found that he could only be truthful with her. "I lost faith in our government," he admitted, watching carefully for her reaction. "When I no longer believed they were acting in the best interests of the people, I had to leave."

"Oh." She looked at him with sympathy. "I'm sorry. You sound so disappointed."

And she sounded as if she cared that he was, which hit him like a heat wave, misting his skin with sweat. The only person he shared anything personal with was Aidan and the comfort Connor received from him was entirely different from the comfort Stacey provided. She made him want to share more, give her more of himself, increase their bond because it strengthened him to know she was there.

"I wanted to trust them." He rocked gently, enjoying the afternoon breeze that smelled like freshly cut grass and the fragrant flowers Stacey had planted around the porch. He wasn't home, but he felt as if he was. "It's tough realizing that you deliberately fooled yourself because the truth was too painful to acknowledge."

"Connor." She sighed and came toward him. He slid over to give her room to sit next to him.

"So where do you go from here?" she asked, staring into the contents of her glass.

"I don't know. Once Aidan recovers, we'll sit down and figure out what's next."

"Are you working for McDougal, too?"

"No."

"How long will you be here?"

"I don't know. Not long. Another day, maybe."

"Oh…"

They rocked together in silence for a time and he watched her from beneath heavy-lidded eyes, noting her restlessly moving fingers. She'd changed into a pink tank top and overall shorts that bared her lithe legs. He was enamored with the view, riveted by the flex and release of her thigh muscles as she pushed the swing to and fro.

"I bet you're excited to go."

His mouth curved ruefully. "Why do you say that?"

Stacey gestured around them with a wide sweep of her hand. "You must be bored."

"Must I?" Connor reached over, wrapped his arm around her slim waist and tugged her closer. "What would you be doing if I wasn't here?"

She shrugged. "Cleaning. Laundry. Sometimes I run over to the Movie Experience and catch the latest action flick."

"Don't you date?" he asked softly.

"I rarely have time." She glanced furtively at him. "There also aren't a lot of men interested in single mothers."

"That's not all you are." His fingers slid up her side to where her tank top was bared by the arm opening of her overalls. He stroked the side of her breast and felt the shiver that moved through her. "You're also a woman."

"Something has to take the backseat."

"Sure," he murmured. "But you're ignoring her completely."

Her chin lifted. "Not everyone has the ability to have casual sex."

"I agree."

Stacey canted her torso away from his touch, which brought her almost face to face with him. "How do you do it?"

His nostrils flared. "Why do you want to know?"

"Maybe I can use some pointers."

"Sweetheart." He yanked and pulled her chest flush to his. Her drink sloshed over the lip of her glass and splashed on the porch, but neither of them cared. She gasped, her parted lips just an inch or so away from his mouth. "I wouldn't teach you how to have casual sex if you paid me."

The mere thought of another man touching her made him edgy and fierce. His teeth ground together and his fingers kneaded restlessly into her flesh.

Misunderstanding the dangerous possessiveness that affected him, her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip. He grew hard against her hip and her lashes lowered.

"But then I could have casual sex with you," she flirted.

Connor stared at her a moment in surprise, then he growled. "I don't want to have casual sex with you."

"You don't?"

He shook his head and reached over to set his glass on the small wrought iron table which sat just outside the arc of the swing. Then he cupped her spine with both hands and rubbed just to hear her moan. "I'm not looking forward to leaving. I'm going to regret not enjoying you the way I should have. I'll be kicking myself for a long time for not having any control when I needed it."

"I like that you were wild." She blushed and lowered her gaze to where her hand touched his chest.

"You'd like me better in control," he purred, taking Stacey's glass from her and placing it beside his own. He turned her to face away from him and arranged them comfortably with her back to his chest. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he set his chin atop her head and pushed off, swinging them.

"I could get used to this," he rumbled, closing his eyes and relishing the heated weight of her sweetly curved body against him. His hands slipped beneath the overalls and cupped the firm, full swell of her breasts.

Mine.

But in order to keep her alive, he'd have to let her go.

"I need to go check on the pie," she said weakly, but she made very little effort to extricate herself.

Connor frowned. "I don't know how to get past this."

"Get past what?" She struggled then, and he released her reluctantly.

"Get past your shell."

"My what?" Standing, she backed away.

"You're like one of those scaly things that walk really slow and hide inside a round shell."

"A turtle?"

"Yep," he nodded gravely, "that's the one. A snapping turtle."

The look of outrage on her face was comical, but he refused to smile. They didn't have time to skirt around the truth.

"Listen." She set her fists on her hips, her chest heaving with her agitation. "It's not fair to ask me to have noncasual sex with you when you're leaving."

"I know."