Coupled with that turning point in his life-the day when he had disarmed a bomb at a grocery store-the Navy had approached him within twenty-four hours. They asked him to join up in exchange for a college degree, and he'd agreed. Joining the Navy made him feel close to his dad. He'd even achieved his master's degree in mechanical engineering, breezing through the classes and drinking in the theoretical information like it was soda. The Navy had been good to him. Different departments continued to seek him, but EOD remained his favorite spot.

If it weren't for the whole diplomacy issue, he'd still be in the field dismantling, defusing, and generally disarming stuff as well as sorting through the latest intelligence information, going on assignments, etc. Of course, the duty he pulled now was on the sweet side. Teaching-he really did enjoy it.

Checking his watch, his dad's SEAL Team Rolex, he had to leave soon. A buddy of his had taken the first class. He'd have to be there, though, in another couple of hours for some hands-on work.

In the meantime, a beautiful woman with eyes that glittered like pale emeralds lay in front of him. What was he supposed to do with her? His mind had a million ideas and his body was all too ready to hope those thoughts might come true. He closed his eyes and pondered them.

Smack!

He rolled flat to the floor without even opening his eyes. When they finally sprang open his gun was drawn and he was aiming the barrel at Kathryn Marie Pente. So much for falling asleep.

She glared at him. What was he supposed to do! He was required to carry a sidearm.

Her lips drew into a thick pursed pucker.

Man, she was beautiful! Staring daggers at him like Queen Boudica of the Britons, her anger was breathtaking. He'd always had a soft spot for strong, independent women, especially one's who made a difference in their community. Of course, the angel before him had golden hair and a melodic voice, unlike the queen who was known for her piercing war cry and her flaming red hair, as well as leading a tribal uprising to protect her people against forces of the Roman Empire. He'd loved that story from high school. Kathryn Marie made her own stand to save the world, as evidenced by those pictures in her sister's office. She was a powerhouse, a wee one he wanted to know better.

A smile spread his lips wide. He'd bet serious bucks this woman didn't know how pretty she was.

The green-eyed vision shook off the mantel of her anger and squared her shoulders. His smile must have done the trick, for her lips finally lost their tension. On her face was an expression of pure resilience and courage. “The gun."

"You first.” He nodded at the pillow she held at the ready.

Humor lit her eyes for a few moments. “No way. This is my house. Owner's privilege."

Devin holstered the gun. He backed up until he felt the chaise behind him and then he sat. “Fine, I'm game. But if you discharge that weapon, I reserve the right to… uh, duck."

Lowering the pillow, a smile slid over her lips before disappearing. But she followed suit, perching herself on the end of the bed. “Who are you? And what are you doing in my home?"

"My name is Captain Devin Walds. I'm an EOD expert and the one who disabled the bomb in your sister's office.” His eyes held tight to hers as he said, “I'm so sorry about the loss of your sister."

Her eyes filled with pain, but she didn't look away. According to what he'd found out, she was a Navy brat and must have met her fair share of sailors through the years. Her eyes held the contact and he watched a core of strength rise in her. It tightened her features and made her eyes glitter like diamonds. This woman had strength. He'd be loath to admit that to anyone, but he admired that trait. Especially when it came to holding one's ground. It said a lot about how a person progressed in life.

She nodded. “Thank you, Captain."

"Call me Devin or Dev."

"Okay. I'm-"

"Kathryn Marie Pente,” he completed.

"Yes.” Turning her head to the side, like a puppy trying to see the world from a different angle, she asked, “So how did you know me? Was it the picture of me on the news? Or, did you look me up?” Her breath caught and she gulped. “You haven't been watching me, have you?"

"No!” He reached toward her, but she pulled back slightly, causing him to retract his arm. “I wouldn't do that to you. I saw your picture… when I was in your sister's office. After I dismantled the bomb, I sat there waiting for my team to come up and remove it."

"Bren's office.” Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back. “She was my big sister."

He nodded. If she started crying, he wasn't quite sure what he would do. Should he comfort her? Gather her into his arms and tell her everything would be okay? That's what a woman wanted, right? But, he wasn't sure her life would be okay. No one had caught Brenda's murderer, and there still was no sign of the terrorist who set the bomb.

"Was it you who decorated the office? I see the same color scheme here.” His tone was soft, gentle.

She nodded.

"There's a serenity and comfort in the design.” Trying to give her more time to steady herself, he looked at her easel and scattered brushes, then continued. “Did you paint the paintings in her office, too?"

"Yes.” She swallowed, took several deep breaths, and found some steadiness. “I'd painted them at my grandparents’ beach house in Old Greenwich, Connecticut. My mom grew up there. A lovely place, it's right on the water. Only a stone's throw from the public beach, and yet our little piece of heaven was perfect. Big enough to entertain family and friends, sunbathe, paint, play with the dogs, swim, and sail off of…"

He couldn't keep his eyes off of her. He'd never been able to pin the word ethereal to a woman until this one. An inner glow seemed to light her countenance: her skin, hair, face, and eyes radiated.

"Please don't let me stop you.” He could listen to her for hours. “I like learning about you."

"Why? You don't know me, and I'm not sure I want you to know this much about me.” She mumbled a few words that sounded close to-at least not yet.

She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “I should have called the cops the minute I awoke and saw you.” An emotion passed over her face. He wasn't sure what it was, but it seemed to be tenderness. Or did he just hope that's what he saw?

"Why didn't you?"

Rubbing her arms, she looked away. This was the first time he hadn't seen her confront her feelings. In her mind, she might still be in the process of making a decision about him, but her body language was there. Kathryn Marie liked him. A feeling he wasn't used to pulled at him at that thought.

He groped for a topic, anything to keep her talking. “I think we have more in common. Were you a SEAL pup?"

Her eyes widened as he used the term. “Yes.” The sun shone through her features like the light originated from inside of her. Even without words, he could tell she was proud of her dad, and never minded being called a SEAL pup. The term they gave Navy SEAL children had too much endearment attached to it.

"Where were you?” she finally asked.

"My dad was Team TWO on the East."

"I don't meet a lot of pups. Do you?” There was something she was searching for, needed to ask him. He'd make it easy on her.

"Just ask what you need to. I'm an open book."

"Okay.” Placing her hands on the bed, she braced herself and looked him in the eye. “What made you feel you had a right to break into my home?"

"I brought cake,” he teased. “And a plant."

But her jaw pushed out. Her expression grew stony and serious.

He didn't know what to do with her reaction. What could he say? That he'd researched her and knew her father was a SEAL too, or that he just wanted to assure himself that the connection he felt might be there-was. He sighed. Didn't she want the cake? Should he have gotten her a Christmas cactus instead? Why wasn't relating to women easier?