Now that I see him in the full light, I'm startled by the changes in him since the last time we met. Before, he was the picture of perfection: not a wrinkle in his clothes, not a hair out of place. The change is more than just the aftermath of our scuffle in the mud outside. He's wearing a plain white T-shirt and dark pants, and I can tell neither was particularly luxurious even before I arrived here today. His hair has outgrown its typical stylish cut, and his previously clean-shaven cheeks are sporting a coat of dark stubble. There are dark circles beneath his eyes.

“What?” he says. “Now you're going to shut up?” Dark humor twists his features.

“What do you want me to say?” I ask him. “I'm not a photographer or a reporter. But your father signed a contract—”

“You're welcome to challenge the decision in court,” he says. “I won't discuss it here. Not without my legal representation present.”

“You know we can't afford to challenge it,” I say.

“Not my problem.” He crosses his arms and stares down at me. “My problem is young women who think they can come waltzing onto my property without any consequences.” He yanks his cell phone out of his pocket.

“Call the police, then,” I say. “But this doesn't end here. I'm not going to stop until we have the money we were promised, or until the entire world knows what a cheap, heartless bastard you are.” I'm surprised at the words even as they come out of my mouth, but my anger is making me bold.

Calder seems equally startled by my voracity. His cell phone is in his hand, poised to call the police, but he stands frozen. There's a strange expression in his eyes that I can't read.

“Very well, then,” he says finally. He slides the phone back in his pocket. “No police.”

A flutter of hope takes life in my chest.

“I have some materials back in my car,” I say. “If you understood what we do—”

“Don't mistake me,” he says. “I've decided not to call the police. That's all. I haven't decided what I'm going to do with you yet.”

“Do with me?” I say. I push myself up off the couch so we're standing toe to toe. “What's that supposed to mean?”

I still can't read the expression in his eyes. His irises are so dark I can hardly tell where they stop and his pupils begin. He’s so close that I can see his pulse beating in his throat.

“The way I see it,” he says slowly, his voice dropping low, “you want something from me. The question is, how far are you willing to go to get it?”

Wait. Is he actually propositioning me? As if to punctuate his point, Calder reaches out and slides a strand of wet hair from my face. His fingers brush against my cheek, and I'm shocked by how warm they are against my damp skin.

“I'm—I’m not going to sleep with you,” I say, my voice softer than I intend. I step away from him, and the back of my knees hit the edge of the couch.

“I never asked you to sleep with me,” he replies. He steps toward me, closing the gap between us again. “I was thinking more along the lines of dinner.”

“Dinner. Like a date?” This is ridiculous. Two minutes ago he was threatening to call the police on me, and now he wants to have dinner?

“No, not like a date.” His voice is thick with amusement again. “Dinner here, right now. I was about to sit down to eat when I became aware of the disturbance at my gate, and now I'm starving.”

“Oh.” I'm not sure how I feel about this. He wants us to sit down over some beef stroganoff or something and act like friends? I can't think of anything more awkward.

“Did you want to talk about your little Center or not?” he says.

“Talk about it?” I say quickly. “Of course. Yes. Dinner then. Yes.”

He gives a low chuckle. “Good.” He reaches out to take my arm, but his fingers freeze on my sleeve. His eyes rake down my body, and heat rushes to my cheeks. Is he seriously checking me out right now?

“You need to change first,” he says. “I don't want you dripping all over the table.”

Now my entire face is hot. He doesn't need to remind me that I'm a muddy mess. I probably look like a drowned rat.

“You're not exactly clean either,” I say, crossing my arms. “Besides, I have nothing else to wear.”

“That's not an issue in this house, I assure you,” he says. His eyes skim down my body once more. “Not an issue at all.”