Fiona didn't know his name. But she
couldn't forget those eyes. They haunted
her thoughts, the way he watched her from
afar-never close enough to speak, but
always there. Like a shadow with a
heartbeat.
She'd been followed once. Down an alley
she never meant to enter. Three steps
behind her-then silence. Until a thud. And
another. When she turned, her stalker was
on the ground, groaning
The man stood over him, blood on his
knuckles and a calm that chilled her. He
turned to her. "Go home, little dove."
was the first time she heard his voice-
low, gravelly, possessive.
And God, why did her knees go weak?