“Who said I wanted to win you over?” he asked without missing a step.

Now that landed an ouch to her ego—and momentarily stalled her kicking. “Will you please tell me where we’re going and why you’re doing this?”

“Soon.”

His timing. Always on his timetable, all or nothing.

At least she would get to know where he was taking her. And if she was lucky, she would get to push him into the ocean right afterward as payback for these he-man tactics that—damn him—really were kind of turning her on as she thought of other times he’d carried her over his shoulder only to toss her on a bed, or down onto the sand. Then he would make his way from the foot of the bed paying passionate attention to every inch of her body.

His feet thudded along the pier outside his house, abandoned. Apparently he planned to have their late night conversation out here.

Alone.

She was in trouble. Maybe she could jump in the ocean if she didn’t like the path of their chat.

David set her down slowly, sensually easing her body along his until he leaned her against the dock’s railing, the bulk of his height blocking out everything but him as he stood in front of her. His pants had stayed perfectly pressed even after a full day of work. His cotton shirt she’d so enjoyed rubbing against bore the slightest wrinkle from the press of her body against him when he’d carried her. Something about the faint wrinkle hinted at an intimacy that tingled through her. Her gaze fell to his arms, his sleeves rolled up, dark hair along his forearms. Strong arms.

Ohhh-kay. Time to shift her attention elsewhere. She looked up to his face. The moonlight cast shadows over his scowl.

She wanted to kiss that grumpy expression right off his face…except…oh, yeah…she was mad at him. God, she forgot that so easily when the sparks started snapping between them.

Starr bit her bottom lip to keep her words and kisses locked up tight. He’d started this. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of begging for an answer. She’d begged often enough around this man—in bed.

The pupils of his eyes widened. Could he read her thoughts now, too? Was he that good of an interrogator at work? Would she be allowed no secrets from him?

Finally, he blinked. She exhaled.

He tunneled his hand through her curls and cupped the back of her head. “Starr, babe, I thought we went over this earlier today. You’ve got to stay away from them.”

His touch muddled her thoughts when doggone it, she had a list of things, logical things, she wanted to say, such as this wasn’t his problem or any of his business, and instead she found herself babbling, “I’ve asked them to leave and go to an RV park. They refused. Short of siccing the cops on them, I don’t know what more I can do to move them.”

“Then call the police.” His fingers massaged hypnotic circles beyond anything her ma could have set up in one of her psychic scams. “Or evict them. They have no legal right to be here if you don’t want them around.”

Starr chewed on her lip again. She really should tell him to get his hand off her, but it felt so amazingly good and she’d never been particularly strong when it came to resisting his touch….

The very reason she had to stop this. Now. She gripped his wrist. “David. Stop.”

She held his gaze in a battle of wills, the heat of his skin radiating through even his rolled-up shirt cuff. Finally, his fingers slowed against her scalp and he swung his arm away, to his side. She released his wrist—and the gulp of air in her lungs.

He tugged at his tie as if in need of air, too. “Damn it, Starr, they steal from people, they prey on the weak and they’re undoubtedly trying to prey on you.”

“I’m too strong to let anything happen.” And she was stronger now, thanks to the self-confidence Aunt Libby had given her. “They’ll hang out for a few days, realize I don’t have any money to give them and then they’ll leave. Just like always.”

His eyes narrowed. “I can make it happen faster than that.”

Too easily she could let him deal with her problems, but she couldn’t tangle her life with his again. “No offense to your professional buddies, but don’t you think that has been tried again and again? It never works. They always get away with whatever illegal or squirrelly scam they’re running.”

Technically not true, she had to confess, at least to herself.

The police had caught up with them one time. The summer they had found ten-year-old Starr locked alone in a boiling hot RV for eight hours while her parents had gone door to door collecting money for yet another bogus charity. She’d nearly died of heatstroke. Five days in the hospital later, the child protective services in Charleston, South Carolina, had placed her with Aunt Libby as a foster child.

At first she’d been wary of Aunt Libby. Nobody could be that nice. Slowly, Aunt Libby’s maternal magic had worn through the years of neglect and abuse and Starr had begun to heal.

Then had come a new fear—that her family would try to take her back.

Thank God, Aunt Libby had always known just how to handle them on their rare visits to the seaside mansion, always with their hands out. And today, Starr followed Aunt Libby’s model of brushing them off.

“Starr?” David snapped his fingers in front of her face, his voice urgent, a hint impatient.

“What, David? Can we make this quick? I need to get back to work.” Actually back to Ashley’s party, due to start up in an hour.

“Has your family ever been reported to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Has anyone ever told me the specifics of their recent scams?” He thumped his chest.

“Well, uh, I guess technically not.” She knew he was darned amazing at his job. Heaven knew his mother bragged about his feats often enough. The woman hadn’t wanted the two of them together, yet she also hadn’t been able to resist rubbing Starr’s nose in what a “catch” she’d missed out on as he sent postcards from this country or that.

Little did his proud mama know those far flung travels only cemented Starr’s resolution she’d made the right choice. Her connection to Aunt Libby’s crumbling old antebellum home, this city, the sisters of her heart went deeper than David could understand.

“David, honestly, I’m not in their inner circle these days since they know I’m not into that kind of life. Even if I were in the know on their plans, they’re so darn slippery in the execution.”

“No one gets past me.”

His confidence was unmistakable.

She couldn’t resist jabbing. “Could that be because your enormous ego blocks the doorway?”

His mouth twitched. God, she loved his mouth, those perfectly full lips that brought such pleasure. His ability to laugh at himself made him all the more attractive.

“You always have been the only woman who wouldn’t put up with my crap.”

David smoothed his hand over her head again, his fingers tangling in her curls as he slid farther this time, down her neck, her back, free of her hair to palm her waist. He flattened her body to his in one of those masterful shows of gentle force that sent her senses tingling even as she longed to stomp on his foot.

He tucked his size-fourteen wingtip shoes gently over the toes of her feet in a preemptive move as if reading her thoughts. “You may be the only woman who doesn’t put up with my crap, but you’re also the only woman I can’t seem to forget.”

Darn him. He always did know what to say to melt her like the glue sticks in her arts-and-crafts gun. His foot slipped off her feet so she could arch on her toes to receive the kiss she could already sense coming.

No. She would hold strong against temptation.

She flattened her hands to his shoulders to stop his kiss, if not the embrace. Their chests pumped for air against each other in time with the gushing waves below the dock.

“I have to go,” Starr gasped. “We’re having a surprise graduation party for Ashley.”