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instead of staying cooped up as she always did. She was tired of having only her grief to keep her company. And now that she’d felt Bare against her, his touch and his kiss, she didn’t want to go back. She wouldn’t. No, she couldn’t.
    She grabbed the silk robe Bare had packed for her and slipped it over the matching gown she wore. Both hit her mid-thigh.
    “Live,” she whispered aloud. She was choosing to live, and Bare was just across the hall. Too close for her to deny.
    She eased her door open and looked both ways before tiptoeing over to Bare’s door and slipping inside. His room was dark, but she made out the shadow of the bed across from her. She stood for a minute, allowing her eyes to adjust until she saw his shape under the sheet. Her breath caught in her throat, and she ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips.
    She cautiously crossed until she stood over him. His dark-brown hair was sleep rumpled, the perpetual five o’clock shadow darker and thicker on his face. She wanted to touch him. She even reached out her hand but stopped before she gave into the urge. Instead, she ran her gaze over the tattoos adorning his perfect body. She wanted to trace them, with her tongue. God, it was as if her libido had awoken with a vengeance.
    “Are you going to stand there staring at me all night?” Bare asked without moving a muscle, eyes still closed.
    She cleared her throat. “I might.”
    That got one eye open. “Or you could crawl in here with me.” He lifted the cover on the other side in invitation.
    Paisley moved around the bed, dropping her robe to the floor as she did and slid onto the mattress with him. He immediately pulled her to him, curling her into his embrace. She turned onto her side, resting one hand on his chest and propping her chin on it.
    “I wasn’t sure you’d welcome me here,” she admitted.
    He lifted a brow at her, his hand running up and down her side, stopping briefly on each pass to cup her hip. “You’re more than welcome.”
    “Are you worried?” she asked softly, trying to read the flickering in his eyes, but Bare gave away nothing.
    “About you getting hurt again?” he asked. “Not physically. I’ll kill anyone who even tries to lay a hand on you. Emotionally?” He sighed.
    “You can’t protect me from my emotions,” she admonished. “Only I can do that. I meant what I said when I told my dad that my mom can’t hurt me anymore. What?” she asked, seeing something in his gaze that gave her pause.
    “I debated whether or not to say anything to you,” Bare said. “But bottom line is it’s your life. You need to know.”
    “Know what?” Paisley asked.
    “Gilly did some digging, into the attack that night.”
    “The police did a thorough investigation,” Paisley said. “They left no stone unturned. Still they found nothing.”
    “I’m not saying Gilly discovered who attacked you that night, but he did say it appeared to be a professional hit.”
    She swallowed, her mind working through what he was saying. “You think someone hired that person to attack me?”
    “Or Lance,” Bare said.
    She shook her head. “Lance didn’t have any enemies.”
    “Everyone has enemies,” Bare countered. “Was anything different that day? Any changes in routine?”
    She didn’t want to remember. Wasn’t that why she was here, in Bare’s bed? So she didn’t have to relive the past over and over again? She saw the concern in his gaze and went back to that day anyway.
    “I left early from the studio. I wasn’t feeling well, hadn’t been for weeks. So I went for a drive, stopped at an out-of-the-way market where no one even noticed me and bought three pregnancy tests. I headed home, took them and waited for Lance to get home from the set.”
    Bare squeezed her closer, somehow sensing she needed his touch to ground her to the here and now. “What would you have normally done?”
    “I would have been on set for another few hours, reading through scripts for the next