“I’m truly sorry for your loss,” she said. What would that be like, to care so deeply—and then to lose that person? She wondered if she would ever know. If she had known in the past. It was one of the things that frightened her, to think there might be someone, somewhere, who missed her. It was one of the reasons she couldn’t bring herself to date. What if she had a husband? Children? She didn’t even know if she was free. But she had convinced herself that if she had a family, she would know. Somehow. Wouldn’t she?

Most of the time the questions were just too awful to contemplate.

“I was a bastard,” he said, surprising her again. The sharp darkness of his eyes pierced her as he cut his gaze to her again. “I wasn’t a good husband during our marriage, and then it was too late. I lost her. Don’t feel sorry for me. Everything that happened was my own fault.”

He dug in the bucket again, tossed another handful of fish at the tarpons.

“Wow, not hard on yourself or anything, are you?” she said. “And you said I put myself down. I think you’ve got me beat.”

“I believe in a person taking responsibility for his actions. Especially when the person was wrong.”

“That’s admirable, but still… It takes two people to make a marriage. You can’t blame yourself entirely.”

“She did,” he said.

Leah didn’t know what to say to that. “I think if you can admit you made some mistakes, that says a lot about you. You don’t strike me as a bastard.” Nope, not at all. He was being so damn nice, she felt the shield around her peeling back with every second she spent with him. And that was bad.

Very bad.

She had nothing to offer a man like Roman Bradshaw. No past, no future, barely a present. There were solid reasons she’d made up her mind not to get involved in a relationship, and just because Roman was hellaciously good-looking and nice to boot didn’t change any of it. Discovering he was a sensitive guy didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

She needed to get things back on more solid footing. Something she could handle. “Morrie told me to give you whatever access you need. If you want to look at the books today, I can make them available to you. I’ve been keeping the books and managing the bar myself since Morrie’s been gone, so I can fill you in on most of the business details and any questions you might have.”

“Great.” He threw out some more fish and neither of them said anything for a time.

The pier grew more crowded as day tourists arrived, making their way from other islands to sample the small Key’s quieter attractions.

“Do you still dive?” Roman asked when the bucket finally emptied.

Still? Her expression must have revealed her confusion.

“I thought you said you enjoyed diving,” he explained.

“No, no, I didn’t. I don’t dive. I have a phobia about the water, actually.”

He watched her for a strange beat. She was very aware of how close he stood to her, of the strangers walking past, of the sun hitting his strong arms and the warm scent of him pulling her and pushing her away all at once.

“You live on an island that’s two miles wide and you’re afraid of the water?”

“Yep. Well, I don’t mind looking at it. I just—I don’t go into it.”

“Do you know why you’re afraid?”

She shook her head. He picked up the bucket and they began walking back toward the marina.

“I believe in facing your fears,” he said. “Headon.”

“You don’t want to see me have a panic attack,” she told him. “It’s not a pretty sight.”

He stopped short.

“You have panic attacks?” Concern etched a new line across his forehead.

“I’m making a great impression on my potential new boss, aren’t I? I’m freaked out about dating, I’m afraid of water, I have panic attacks. I swear, I’m perfectly fine at the bar. I don’t crack up in front of customers. Much.” She looked at him. “That was a joke,” she added.

“I don’t think you’re nuts,” he said. He cocked his head, regarded her for a beat. “I think you’re everything Morrie said you were.”

She wondered exactly what Morrie had told him.

They reached the marina and he returned the bucket. There was a sink for hand-washing, and after they finished, he held the door open for her again. Great. He was gorgeous, rich, nice and polite. She needed to find some faults, quickly. She reminded herself that she barely knew him and had no reason to trust him. She brushed by him, back into the harsh glare of the day.

“I need to get back to the bar,” she said.

“I thought you didn’t have to be back till later.”

No, damn him. “I could show you the books.” Anything to cut short their outing. “You don’t want to spend too much time in the sun right away,” she added, trying to think of more reasons they should go back to the bar. “I’m used to it, but you’re not. The sun here is seductive. It’s stronger than you think. You can tell the tourists because they’re the ones who are sunburned. And by the way, don’t swim after dark. That’s when the sharks are most active. The mosquitoes here are ferocious, too. And you need some sunglasses—the kind that protect against ultraviolet rays—”

She stopped. He was watching her with his curiously level gaze shuttered and hard to read now. But he could read her, apparently. And she hated that. It made her heart thump and pound, and she wanted to run, hard, fast, until she couldn’t think or feel.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said. “Or take up too much of your time. Let’s go back.”

All he did was make her feel uncomfortable. But now she felt like a jerk.

“No, I’ll walk you into the town. Morrie asked me to do anything for you that I could, and I owe him…everything. If you’d like me to show you around some more—”

“And take me shopping for sunglasses?” The teasing note returned to his voice.

She felt her cheeks heat. “I really wasn’t trying to ditch you,” she lied.

He didn’t believe her, she suspected, but he didn’t confront her about it, either.

“Good thing,” he said. “Because I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay.”

That was exactly what she was afraid of.

He wanted to move a hell of a lot faster, but she wasn’t ready.

Roman sat in Morrie’s office, the bar’s account books spread out around him, pretending to give a rat’s ass if the bar was making money or not. All he really cared about was why Leah was so scared—not just of him, but of everything. She was scared of the water. That had blown his mind. Leah loved to swim. She’d been the one who’d insisted he take diving lessons, get the required certification before they’d come to Thunder Key. She’d been fearless. They’d explored the coral channels and canyons together, snorkeled and bodysurfed and played like kids in the calm waters of the barrier-reef-protected shore. She’d made him— stuffed shirt that he’d been—play, too.

Now she was afraid of the very thing she’d loved most. Water. Did it go back to the accident? That had to have been harrowing, her car going over the bridge that way. He couldn’t even imagine. Hell, he didn’t want to, but he couldn’t stop. What had really happened to her? It wasn’t just water that she feared, and that made him wonder if something worse than he had ever imagined had occurred on that fateful night. It was as if she feared life itself. She held back. His Leah had never held back.

He was going to have to go easy with her, and that would be the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life. He wanted to charge in, take control. That was what he’d been born and raised to do in every aspect of his life. But that had never worked with Leah.

They’d gone ahead and walked into the town before coming back to the bar. Thunder Key the town was like a miniature New England village, with twisty palm-shrouded lanes and predominantly shotgun-style wooden houses mixed in with other styles, most with the unifying gingerbread trim that formed the backbone of the Keysy conch architecture. Leah kept up a steady stream of information as they walked. There were bike rental shops and art galleries alongside little bars and restaurants that clearly catered to the tourist crowd.