“Look, I didn’t think.” Shane cleared his throat and tried the honesty route. “It just didn’t occur to me, you know?”

His dad was damned freaky about his privacy anyway. He was one of the most secretive people Shane knew, especially about his private life.

“Where’s your car?” his dad asked carefully.

Shane winced. “At the garage. I had a friend drop me off earlier. It was rattling. You know it had that rattle, Dad. I came home to get it fixed. And there are no classes tomorrow.”

He could feel the flush on his face and rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. He wanted to cuss again, but knew better with his dad scowling at him like that.

“Sorry, Dad,” he finally muttered.

His father drew in a harsh breath before dropping his arms and stalking to the porch railing. They both listened to the sound of a Harley starting. The low throb of power, then Shane winced as it roared. Oh hell, Rogue was pissed off.

He glanced at his dad and watched his shoulders tighten, the way his jaw bunched as the cycle’s motor ripped through the silence of the valley on its journey to the main road.

“She’s pissed at me, too?” He sighed.

Zeke shook his head. “She’s not pissed at you.”

She was hurt. He’d seen that flash of pain in her eyes and hadn’t known how to deal with it. Hell, it wasn’t every day a man’s son walked in while he was getting blown.

“I didn’t see anything. Much,” Shane ventured hesitantly. “I turned my head. Fast.”

Zeke glanced over at him. “You saw enough.”

Shane cleared his throat before turning and gripping the railing. He stared out at the lake, his youthful expression still a combination of amazement and shock.

“Yeah. Enough.”

Shane rocked against the railing and this time, Zeke didn’t chastise him for it.

“It won’t happen again,” Shane ventured. “I mean, I moved out. I should, like, knock first or something. Not just barrel in when I know you have company.”

“That would be a start,” Zeke said heavily. Though he doubted there would be more

“company.” Hell, he’d be lucky if Rogue didn’t kick his ass the next time she saw him.

And he’d deserve it.

He should have said something. He should have promised to call later. Something. Hell, he’d just shot his cum down her throat and threw her out. He could feel himself cringing inside.

“Sorry, Dad,” Shane apologized again, but Zeke could hear the amusement in the boy’s voice. He didn’t blame him for being amused.

“I’ll kick your ass if you ever bring a girl here and let me catch you,” he warned Shane, just in case. Sometimes, with a boy that thought he was a man, it was best to lay the ground rules out front and center.

“Uh, yeah. Wouldn’t blame you.” Shane sounded as horrified as Zeke felt.

Shit. This was his son. There were things a man should never let his son, no matter how old he is, know about, let alone catch a glimpse of. And Rogue. She was gossiped about enough, she didn’t need her name tarnished further.

“And this won’t be mentioned,” he warned Shane. “Especially to your aunt Lucinda.”

Horror shaped Shane’s face. “Oh my God, you think I’d tell Aunt Big Mouth?” he gasped. “Come on, Dad. I like Rogue. She’s cool. Too good for you, but she’s cool.”

Zeke’s brows arched as Shane flushed again.

“Didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” he muttered.

“Then how did you mean it?” Zeke asked him carefully.

He mumbled.

“Come on, Shane,” he ordered. “If you’re going to run your mouth, be a man and stand by it.”

He had never let Shane shirk his responsibilities or his punishments. If he could run his mouth, then he could back it up.

“I didn’t mean to insult you.” Shane finally shrugged. “Well, kinda, I did.”

Zeke stared back at the boy silently as he turned and faced him. Shane’s eyes met his as his brows lowered into a fierce frown. He looked like an adult when he did that. Zeke didn’t like admitting Shane was becoming an adult.

“Look, I know Rogue’s half crazy over you,” Shane said then. “Even when I was in school and you came for those stupid parent-teacher conferences that year, I could see it. She likes you. Maybe too much. And you’re all about no ties. She deserves better than that.”

Zeke crossed his arms over his chest and faced his son then. He’d be damned if he was going to let his son stand and chastise him over something he didn’t know or couldn’t understand.

“That’s not your call, Shane,” he pointed out firmly. “What’s between me and Rogue stays there. Understand? I don’t need your advice.”

Shane looked away for a moment, and Zeke was struck by the maturity his son had achieved in the past year at college. Hell, he’d missed it. Shane’s face had lost that youthful fullness. It was becoming more honed, closer to Zeke in looks rather than his mother’s father.

Hell, it was a defining moment, Zeke thought, realizing his kid looked like him. And that his kid was berating him over a woman. There was something about that that just clashed in his head.

“I’m not trying to give you advice.” Shane turned back to him, eyeing him fiercely now with eyes almost the same color as his own. “I’m telling you, Dad. You break her heart, and you won’t be the man I’ve always respected.”

It was all Zeke could do to keep his jaw in place. Hell. When had reality shifted?

In his kitchen with his dick down Rogue’s throat, another part of him reminded him.

“Son, you’re getting big enough to hit,” Zeke warned him, though he knew hitting the boy wasn’t in question.

Shane snorted at that. “Yeah, sure, Pop. And you’re old enough to know better than to mess with a girl like Rogue without being serious about it. You’re older than she is. And you know things she doesn’t.”

“Things like what?” Zeke gritted out in a snarl. Maybe he should rethink the hitting part.

Shane flushed, then straightened his shoulders and glared back at him. “I’m your son,”

he snapped. “Don’t make me spell crap out. It was bad enough walking in on you like that. I’m a man, not a kid, and I know I’m not always normal in some things. I figure I got it from someone and I’m figuring after hearing tales about Grandpa, that I get it from your side. Okay? So be careful. I like Rogue. She’s cool, and she doesn’t treat me like a stupid kid. You break her heart and I’m gonna be pissed. That’s just all.”

With that, Shane turned on his booted heel and slammed back into the house, rattling the door on its hinges as Zeke stared at it in shock.

Fuck, he needed a beer. He needed a beer, a long nap, and then he needed to get his head screwed on straight where Rogue was concerned. She was pissed. Shane was pissed. And Zeke couldn’t blame either damned one of them. The question now was damage control.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he grimaced. When he’d been married and pissed his wife off, all he had to do was leave her alone for a while and she forgave him. When Chaya was pissed at Natches, he said the best thing to do was leave her the hell alone.

He’d seen various Mackay men moping at the diner when their wives were in a snit.

Rogue couldn’t be much different, could she?

Hell, it was humiliating to realize how little he knew about this female’s quirks. He was thirty-seven years old, he’d been married, and he hadn’t exactly been celibate over the years since his wife had died.

But, he reminded himself, neither had he actually had relationships. Not that he had one now. Did he? He shook his head. Hell no, he didn’t have one now. Rogue wasn’t a relationship. But she was definitely going to be a lover. He’d give her a few days, let her get over her mad, then he’d find her.

He nodded to himself. That was all he had to do. Because the next time he found her, he was fucking her. It was that simple. He’d come down her throat today with a force he hadn’t known in his entire life. Watching her, seeing her innocence, realizing how she was struggling with the act and trying to hide the fact that she had no idea what she was doing. And still, she’d gone down on him with a sensuality and a hunger that amazed him.

And when he’d filled her mouth, she’d come with him. Not the way she was going to come once he got his lips between her thighs or his cock buried deep inside that hot little pussy he knew would drive him insane. But she had come from the sheer sensuality and excitement, with him. He wasn’t about to fight this much longer.

He’d managed to hide the darker core of his sexuality for most of his life; it was second nature now. He’d hide it with Rogue as well. He’d have to, because he knew he had to have her. There was no other option.

He would hide it from Shane, he’d hide it from the county. He knew how to hide his lovers and he knew how to hide his interest.

If something warned him it wasn’t going to be that easy with Rogue, then he pushed it aside. Rogue was hotter, more of a temptation, more of a forbidden fruit because of her age, he told himself. It wasn’t emotion. Zeke had learned long ago not to let himself get emotionally involved. He wasn’t involved now.

Was he?

He wasn’t, he decided. Cranston’s idea had merit, too. He could have Rogue, he could let the killer think his focus was divided while Cranston and the Mackays asked their questions. Hell, they were going to do it anyway.

And he wouldn’t be using her, he assured his guilty conscience. He was dying for her.

His attention was divided, it was too focused on his hunger, and he’d end up missing things. This way, he’d at least have a clear head for the investigation.

And he was making excuses. The plain and simple fact was he simply couldn’t stay away from her any longer.

Rogue showed up at work the next day even though she didn’t want to. She felt raw inside, rejected, used. She felt as though she had been stripped to the bone and had no idea how to heal the wounds; she only knew how to hide them.

She pasted on a smile after a careful application of makeup. Smoky eyes were sensual, and they hid the shadows of emotional catastrophe. Bronzed lipstick made her look seductive.

She wore chocolate ankle-strapped stilettos and a matching slip dress that just barely hid the band of her bronzed stockings. She spent hours straightening her long curls until the mass of red gold strands hung to her hips like a shimmering ribbon. Parted on the side, it framed her face with rakish appeal and gave her a slight ego boost if nothing else.

She didn’t ride the Harley into work but had Jonesy drive her in with a promise to pick her up later that night. He was silent, moody, and obviously not exactly happy with her style of dress.

He approved of the leather, no matter how skimpy she got with it. He thought it was tasteful. To Jonesy, silk was a trick and her straight hair was a come-on. Go figure.

She stepped into a full restaurant, took over for Tabitha, and kept a smile on her face.

She fielded advances, she laughed at the flirtatious comments, but something inside her felt as though it was breaking.

Okay, so it was pretty bad having your son walk in while you were getting a blow job.

She could only imagine how horrifying that was. It was bad enough getting caught, period. He was shocked, needed to yell at Shane a little maybe. She excused that. She was pissed, hurt, but she understood.

She understood all night. She watched the hands of the clock tick by and felt the knowledge that she didn’t matter enough to seek out growing heavier inside her.

The dinner crowd moved through, in and out, until the doors were locked and she gave one last peek as she turned the sign to Closed and realized he wasn’t going to show up.