hat's not what you usually wear to go jogging," Carlos commented as Robby strode across the family room.

Robby grunted and headed into the kitchen. He'd already had one bottle of blood when he'd first wakened, so he wasn't really hungry. This was just a precaution in case he actually met the Greek goddess. Sometimes good old-fashioned lust managed to trigger his lust for blood, and he didn't want his fangs popping out and scaring her.

He poured half a glass and warmed it up in the microwave.

Carlos entered the kitchen. "Your hair's damp. You took a shower before jogging?"

He wasn't going to jog tonight. He didn't want to arrive at her house all sweaty, especially since a Vamp's sweat tended to be a wee bit pinkish in color, just like their tears. It came from a steady diet of blood, he supposed. "I'm taking a walk."

"Ah. A midnight stroll. Sounds wonderful." Carlos regarded him with a smirk. "I think I'll join you."

"Nay."

"I like to walk on the beach."

"Piss off."

Carlos laughed. "I know you're hoping to see her."

"I know ye know." Robby removed his half glass of blood from the microwave and downed it.

"I also know that a red rose is missing from the garden."

Robby arched a brow. "Ye're keeping inventory on all the flowers?"

Carlos chuckled. "I had my eye on that rose. I was planning to give it to someone, and you beat me to it."

Robby wondered briefly what Carlos was up to, but refrained from asking. Toni claimed he was gay, but Ian disagreed. When they were here on the island, Robby had heard them argue over the matter for ten minutes, then rush off to their bedroom to make up. He'd gone jogging for two hours, and when he returned, they were still making up.

He groaned inwardly. His Vamp friends, Ian, Jean-Luc, and Jack, were deliriously happy with their mortal women, but he doubted he could ever experience such happiness. First, there was the problem of finding a woman who could actually love a creature of the night.

Then there was the matter of trust. How would he know what she was doing during the day? He couldn't bear another betrayal from a woman he loved. What if she tired of him and decided to stake him while he was in his death-sleep?

And then there was the last problem, the one that bothered him the most. Loving a Vamp was a death sentence. He didn't know how his friends could even stomach the thought that one day they would have to literally kill their wives in order to transform them. What kind of love was that?

So what the hell was he doing? He set his empty glass in the sink. "This was a bad idea."

"Dude, don't chicken out now."

He shot Carlos an annoyed look. "'Tis no' fear that's giving me pause. She's an innocent mortal. She deserves better than me."

"Right, because you're a disgusting, slobbering beast who'll rip her throat out and toss her dead body out to sea."

Robby stiffened. "Are ye asking for a bloody nose? I wouldna harm her."

"Exactly. Go see her, muchacho."

Robby glanced down at his clothes. It had taken him fifteen minutes to decide what to wear. He'd finally chosen some worn jeans, a dark green T-shirt, and a navy hoodie lined with the green and blue MacKay tartan. His hair was tied back with a leather strip. "I doona look too casual?"

"You look fine. Go get her, tiger."

Robby snorted. Strange words from a were-panther. He strode from the house before he could change his mind. Rather than descend the stone steps, he simply jumped off the edge of the rocky bluff and landed neatly on the pebbly beach below. Even in the dim light of the three-quarter moon, he could spot the rock called Petra about half a mile to the north. He teleported there, then walked around it to the beach at Grikos.

What was he going to say? He doubted she'd want to hear about his favorite topic - which swords were best suited for different situations. Bugger. He was woefully out of practice when it came to talking to women.

Olivia debated what to wear for fifteen minutes even though her choices were severely limited to the few items she'd packed. She finally opted for a pair of jeans and a soft pullover sweater. Then she trapped her unruly hair in a claw clip on the back of her head.

Her grandmother was sound asleep when she made herself comfortable in the courtyard. She lit a trio of candles on the table beneath the grape arbor. On a chair, she set an old cricket bat Yia Yia used to beat rugs.

She hoped she wouldn't need it to defend herself, but her work at the Bureau had taught her that looks could be deceiving. She'd been surprised the first time she met Otis Crump by how harmless and ordinary he appeared. Underneath the pleasant exterior lurked a monster who had raped, tortured, and murdered thirteen women.

She shoved him out of her thoughts. This was her time to recover and heal. He had been an assignment, nothing more, and she was done with it. Done with him.

She could only pray that he was done with her.

She strode back into the house to make a cup of hot tea. As she exited the kitchen, she grabbed the rose and took it with her. Back in the courtyard, she waited. And waited. She finished her tea and left the cup on the table.

Back at the wall, she smoothed her fingers over the velvet rose petals. The thorns had been pinched off the stem, so her secret admirer appeared to be considerate. She hoped he was the mysterious jogger. But where was he?

Maybe she was too early. Or maybe he had left the island and this rose was his way of saying good-bye. After all, the last week of November was way past the tourist season. Or maybe she'd imagined him. After dealing with the ultimate dregs of humanity in the person of Otis Crump, her subconscious could be trying to compensate by manufacturing a handsome, honorable hero.

She sighed. Too many years of psychology classes had left her with a tendency to overanalyze everything. She just needed to relax and smell the roses. Or one rose in particular. She lifted it to her nose and smiled.

Her attention snapped to a figure coming from the south. She looked through the telescope, and her heart lurched in her chest. It was him! He was real.

He wasn't jogging tonight. Instead, he walked toward her with a quick determined stride. He lifted a hand in greeting, and her heart did another flip. Through the telescope, she could tell he was focused entirely on her. He certainly had good eyesight.

She stepped toward the wall and waved a hand to acknowledge his greeting. He immediately broke into a jog, and her heart pounded with each step that brought him closer. His eyes never seemed to leave her. He was checking her out, and that brought heat to her cheeks. Was he excited and attracted? Or was he already regretting his actions? She opened her senses to detect his feelings.

Nothing. In all her twenty-four years, she'd never met a person she couldn't read. She closed her eyes and furrowed her brow with concentration.

Nothing.

She opened her eyes to make sure he was real. Yep, he was almost in front of her. Why couldn't she sense him? She always knew how people felt. She always knew when they were lying.

Good God, this was awful. How would she know where she stood with this man? How could she trust anything he said? A spurt of panic flashed through her, and she considered escaping into the house.

But then she saw his face. He had stopped on the beach below her, and he was gazing up at her with an intense, searching look as if he didn't know what to think. Well, that made two of them.

She met his gaze, and an instant wave of desire flooded through her. It caught her by surprise, nearly buckling her knees. Whoa. She gripped the edge of the wall to steady herself. She didn't usually react like that.

Actually, she wasn't sure how she usually reacted. She'd always concentrated on other people's feelings so she would know how to deal with them.

This was a first for her. She was in the company of another person, but alone with her own feelings. And she'd never realized her feelings could be so...strong. Maybe they just seemed that way because they were isolated. Or because this situation was new to her.

Or maybe he was the cause.

She swallowed hard. She'd have to be careful. She had no idea what he was feeling. Or if he could be trusted. How did normal women survive like this? It was terrifying.

And incredibly exciting.

He raised a hand. "Good evening."

His low voice carried up to her with the slight stir of a breeze that tickled her neck. She felt giddy with excitement. Almost giggly.

"Do ye speak English, lass?"

She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. His accent was adorable. "You're Scottish?"

"Aye. Ye're...American?"

She nodded with a growing smile. He smiled back, and a fluttery feeling started in her stomach. Careful. You don't know if he can be trusted.

"I'm Robert Alexander MacKay." He inclined his head, leaning forward.

He was bowing? She stifled a giggle and wondered what the gorgeous Scotsman would do next.

He regarded her expectantly. Green, she noted with great satisfaction. His eyes were green just like she had hoped. And even though his hair was a rich, dark red, his eyebrows and whiskers looked more brownish.

"And you?" he asked.

"Yes?"

His mouth quirked with a half smile. "Forgive the bold assumption, but I thought ye might be in possession of a name I could call you?"

She laughed. Several suggestions flitted through her mind. Sweetheart, love of my life, center of my universe. She'd been so busy admiring him, she'd forgotten to introduce herself. "I'm Olivia. Olivia Sotiris."

"Ah. Then I was wrong about you."

"How?"

"I thought you were a Greek goddess."

She snorted. What a smooth talker. And what a shame that she couldn't tell if he was lying. She lifted the rose. "Did you leave this?"

"Aye."

"Where?"

His eyebrows lifted. "I left it on the steps, pinned down with a rock. Why do ye ask?"

Because she needed to know if he was an honest man. She loved the way he pronounced down like dune, but she'd be a fool to fall for a man just because his voice was like music and his face and body were like a beautiful sculpture. She sniffed the rose. "It's lovely. Thank you."

"Would ye care to walk with me a wee bit?"

Her heart rate sped up. "I�CI'd rather stay here. You can join me if you like."

His gaze flitted over the rocky bluff separating them, then his mouth twitched. "I'll take the stairs."

"Be careful. The stairs are steep. And dark." Her heart raced as he disappeared in the narrow stairwell. He was coming up!

She glanced toward the back door. Her grandmother was alone and asleep. What if she'd invited an axe murderer up here? She left the rose on the table and grabbed the cricket bat. It wasn't just her work at the FBI that made her suspicious. She'd learned as a young child to be wary when she'd discovered how often people lied.

He reached the top of the stairs and stopped, motioning to the cricket bat in her hands. "Are ye planning to whack me now?"

He was taller than she'd realized. And his shoulders broader. She flexed her hands around the bat. "I don't usually talk to strangers. I should warn you, I'm a black belt in tae kwon do."

His jaw shifted. "I willna harm you, lass."

"I know. I won't let you."

He studied her a moment, then his mouth relaxed with a hint of a smile. "Ye're as brave as ye are beautiful. That's a rare combination."

Her heart stilled for a moment. Brave and beautiful. That's what her grandfather had said to Yia Yia the day they met. "I don't mean to be rude, Mr. MacKay. A woman has to be careful these days."

"Aye, ye're correct." His gaze moved slowly down her body to her feet. His mouth lifted in a half smile as his gaze roamed back to her face.

Damn. She didn't know whether to whack him or melt into a puddle. Part of her was flustered and flattered. Her skin tingled when he examined her with those gorgeous green eyes. But another part of her was nervous. She tightened her grip on the bat in case he made a lunge at her. It was so hard, not being able to read his emotions. For a second she thought his eyes were darkening, but he turned toward the telescope and peered through the eyepiece.

"So, Olivia, what brings you to Patmos?"

She liked the way her name sounded with his accent. "I'm visiting my...relatives. Four uncles. They're...big. Professional wrestlers." When his mouth twitched, she figured he wasn't buying her story. "What about you?"

"Vacation. And recuperation. I was...injured, so I've been trying to get back in shape."

She glanced at his muscular body. "I would say you definitely succeeded."

"Thank you for noticing."

Her face heated with a blush. "How did you get injured?"

He grew silent, frowning at the tile floor.

"Sorry." She propped the bat against a wooden column of the grape arbor. "You don't have to talk about it..."

"It just happened. My job can be dangerous."

"What do you do?" When his frown deepened, she felt a sudden need to comfort him, to make him smile again. "I know! You're a bullfighter."

He gave her a dubious look. "A Scottish bullfighter?"

"Yeah, with a red plaid cape. And little sequins on your kilt. Drives the Scottish bulls crazy."

He chuckled. "Nay."

Her heart expanded in her chest. It felt so good to chase away his frown. She wandered toward the whitewashed wall to stand next to him. "Then you're a lion tamer?" When he shook his head, she continued. "Rodeo clown? Snake charmer?"

"Nay." He grinned, his green eyes twinkling.

"Okay. I'm thinking Navy SEAL."

"I'm thinking seals are black."

She snorted. "You know what I mean. You could be a member of a special, macho, elite force, protecting mankind from insidious evil in all forms, including the triple-decker bacon cheeseburger."

"I can safely say I've never battled a cheeseburger."

"Sure, but have you battled evil?"

He stiffened and looked toward the sea, frowning again.

The skin on the back of her neck prickled. "You are some kind of soldier."

His chest moved as he inhaled deeply. "Aye."

"Top secret?" she whispered. "Are you fighting terrorists?"

He hesitated a moment before answering. "Ye could say that."

She nodded. His reluctance to speak on the subject made her fairly certain he was telling the truth. "You're on leave now?"

"Aye." He planted his hands on top of the wall, then drummed his long fingers on the plaster for a while before continuing. "My boss insisted I take some time off."

She blinked. "You're kidding. That's why I'm here. My boss wanted me to take time off, too."

He turned toward her, regarding her curiously. "Why? What do ye do?"

She didn't want to discuss her work with criminals. She was here to get away from all that. And besides, she enjoyed making this gorgeous man smile. "You were right from the beginning. I'm a Greek goddess. Zeus told me to take off a millennium or two."

His mouth tilted and his eyes twinkled. "I knew it. One look into yer eyes, and I could fall at yer feet."

Her cheeks grew warm. She didn't usually flirt like this. Normally, she was too busy analyzing people's feelings. With a jolt she realized she'd always been an observer before, not a participant. This was new and scary, but so much fun.

She lifted her chin. "No groveling allowed. Goddesses find that very annoying."

He smiled slowly. "If I fell to my knees, I'd find something better to do than grovel."

Her face blazed with heat. This was getting too hot to handle. "I work for the FBI," she blurted out.

His eyebrows shot up. "Do ye really?"

"Yes. We're in the same sort of business, Mr. MacKay. Catching bad guys."

He cocked his head, studying her. "Where are ye stationed?"

"Kansas City. You?"

"Wherever they need me. So ye really are a black belt in tae kwon do?"

He'd doubted her? She planted a hand on her hip. "I've been thoroughly trained in self-defense, Mr. MacKay."

A corner of his mouth dimpled. "My friends call me Robby."

Her heart pounded. "Are you calling me a friend?"

"Aye." He reached out and touched a strand of her hair that had escaped from the clip on the back of her head. "Does yer hair curl like this naturally?"

"I'm afraid so. It's impossible to deal with."

"I like it." He tugged on the strand till it was taut, then let go, and it bounced back into its normal corkscrew shape. He grinned. "A man could play with yer hair for hours." He touched her temple.

With a gulp, she stepped back. "I�CI should check on my uncles. Would you like something to drink? Some hot tea?"

He lowered his hand. "I'm fine, thank you."

"I'll be right back." She dashed into the house and quickly set some water to boil on the stove. Chicken, she chided herself. She should have let him touch her, maybe even kiss her. But how could she trust him? She was so attracted to him, but as far as she knew, he was simply looking for a little fling to spice up his vacation.

She'd never been the type to indulge in a fling. Growing up with the ability to detect lies had caused her to avoid anything that smacked of insincerity. Besides, she would only be on the island for two weeks. Was that enough time to forge an honest, meaningful relationship? Did she dare even try it with a man she couldn't read? The unknown could be scary, but also very exciting.

She peered through the windowpane in the back door. He was still in the courtyard, amusing himself by peering through the telescope. Robby MacKay, a soldier on leave. She wondered how badly he'd been injured.

She fixed her cup of tea and carried it back to the courtyard. When he smiled at her, her heart stuttered. She was seriously falling fast.

She sat at the table and motioned for him to join her. "Are you sure I can't get you something to drink or eat?"

"I ate before I came." He sat beside her.

She liked the way his red hair glinted in the candlelight. It seemed rather long for a soldier, but it was neatly tied back. "How long will you be on Patmos?"

"About three more weeks." He hesitated a moment, then continued. "I'm ready to go back now, but my boss disagrees. He thinks I was traumatized or some such nonsense."

"Post-traumatic stress syndrome." Olivia sipped some hot tea. "It's very common among soldiers."

He shrugged one shoulder. "'Tis much ado about nothing. I know life is no' fair. There's no point in whining about it."

She gave him a worried look. "Sometimes it's healthier to talk things out. Repression can lead to serious side effects down the road, and I don't just mean emotional outbursts. It can affect your physical health."

He shot her an annoyed look. "I'm perfectly fine. And hell will freeze over before I'll talk to a damned psychologist."

She sucked in a quick intake of air. Her cup wobbled in her hand, and she set it down on the table.

He frowned at her. "What's wrong?"

Everything was wrong. Her heart plummeted into her stomach. She should have known this couldn't last.

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. He jumped to his feet and crossed the courtyard. "Bloody hell," he whispered. He turned back to her, regarding her with a look of horror. "Ye're a psychologist?"

She nodded slowly. "I think hell just froze over." For both of them.