For the first few moments, it wasn't clear where she was, and then she remembered she was at Eli's place. Tossing off the soft covers, she flipped her legs over the side of the bed and began padding to the veranda to open the doors. It must have been late in the day, because it already was uncomfortably warm, and the opened doors provided some pleasant air. Taking a step out, she was struck by what a lovely view he had of the surrounding valley before remembering herself and jumping back indoors. Best to stay inside for now.

Her sleep had been fitful the night before, and she'd woken several times with a start or a fright, comforted only by the presence of Eli slumbering easily at the other end of the couch. Fortunately, she couldn't remember any of the bad dreams that had heckled her throughout the night, but she wasn't ready to be in her home alone, not yet. So when Eli had announced that morning that he needed to spend a few hours at his work-site, she'd nearly panicked. That he'd only be a short drive away had been of no comfort.

There hadn't been any tears, no emotional episodes as there had been the day before, and after some discussion and dickering, and just a small dash of pouting, she'd agreed to relax at his East Hollywood cottage for a few hours while he was away. Once he'd left her there, she'd immediately climbed into bed, still fully clothed save for her sandals, and fallen asleep.

Looking around now, she saw that the cottage he rented was small, just a single modest room, and so bare it was almost Spartan, but it was absurdly neat and tidy.

She'd had the state of mind to grab a few things before she left home and, after a quick shower in his immaculate bathroom, felt like a new woman. It was nearly midday, and though her stomach rumbled, she was so long out of the habit of eating that watching a bit of TV seemed the better option. Eli wouldn't be too much longer.

The remote was in clear view on the nightstand, but tragedy nearly struck when she flopped again on the bed to stretch out and caught a whiff of Eli on the sheets. She hadn't noticed his delightful smell in her earlier torpor but now had to battle the nigh irresistible temptation to touch herself inappropriately. After a few breathless moments, her sense of probity carried the day, and, in yet another act of sheer willpower, she was even able to put two and two together and conclude that her attraction to the scandalous man whose room she now inhabited was what had prompted such aberrant behavior. Why such a simple realization had eluded her remained a mystery.

Over the next hour, the latest episode of Murder Bird, one of her favorite shows, helped to distract her from thoughts of what she'd seen the day before. But it was difficult to concentrate, and a knock at the door at a few minutes past noon gave her a start. Although she doubted the knock was the Flying Guy, she was on pins and needles. Before a few seconds passed, there was a jingle of keys and a cracking of the door.

"Is everyone decent in there?" came a familiar voice from without.

"You mean, am I in here debauching myself on a mother and her daughter? No."

"You're never going to let me forget about that, are you?" said Eli as he entered the room, a twisted smile on his lips.

There was an impulse to stand and greet him, but the awkwardness of the moment won over, and, after flicking off the television, she merely rose from the bed and took a seat in a comfortable-looking couch situated beside the veranda doors opposite the bed. To her horror, she realized she hadn't reapplied her makeup after showering and lifted a palm to shield her face. Looking away, it was clear there was no diplomatic way to act.

"Oh, oh, oh ...," she pleaded weakly, "don't look at me."

From the corner of her eye, she could see he'd taken up a perch on the edge of the bed. Only a few feet separated them.

"Am I to turn to stone, then?"

"Don't tease. I don't have any makeup on."

"Let's see it ... come on."

It shouldn't have been that big a deal, so she relented with scant fuss. Turning with a theatrical sigh, she extended her face toward him for inspection and waited patiently with an indulgent but put-upon look on her face. Eli made a show of inspecting her mug, turning this way and that, looking her up one side and down the other. Throughout, he made cooing and clucking noises reminiscent of those of Thorne Saenz.

"Hmm ... interesting," he said finally. "Hold on ...." As he spoke, he lay back on the bed, stretched, and fumbled with the nightstand drawer. Finally, the drawer yielded a pair of spectacles, which he perched on the very tip of his nose before sitting up and resuming his inspection. "Okay," he said, "I see what we've got here."

"And what's that?" she asked with the barest hint of sulkiness.

"Kate Johnson, you are a beautiful woman ... a beautiful, beautiful woman. But I don't get you. I'll admit, you do have a gorgeous figure, but you seem to think that's all you've got going on."

She said nothing. There was nothing to say. There'd always been something she didn't like about her looks ... something that she just couldn't accept when others praised them.

As he observed her further, perhaps waiting for her to speak, Eli raised his feet to the top of the bedframe and continued to regard her carefully over the tops of his knees. He went on.

"You know, without makeup, your eyes seem just a little farther apart. It's really very fetching."

"I look like a space alien."

"No, you don't." His words were flat and confident. "Though you do look otherworldly."

"Oh, clever."

'It's not just a play on words." By that time, he completely had abandoned the play-acting. "I think you're even more beautiful without makeup ... if such a thing is possible."

His attention was just too much for her, and she again felt the need to change the subject.

"Thank you for letting me stay here," she said with the most sincere smile she could muster. "As much as it kills me to admit it, food and rest were what I really needed ... again." She hadn't forgotten her episode at the beach house. "And thank you for the kind words, but I'm going to put some lipstick on." As she moved to the bathroom, she couldn't help but comment. "This place is small, but I like it a lot. How long have you got it for?"

"The next year," he called out.

She poked her head back out the door. "A year? Are you settling down?"

"Hardly. Your zillionaire neighbor wants me on this project for the duration ... which means forever. I told him I would, and the cottage is my standard condition."

"Why forever?" she asked after she came back out. He was no longer sitting on the bed. She hesitated a moment at the double doors to the veranda, glancing skyward left, right, and forward before looking out to where he sat in a comfortable looking chair. One quick breath and a skosh of vertigo later, and she was sitting next to him looking, she hoped, a little more presentable. She'd applied some lipstick and a few other things. It wasn't the full monty, but that little touch made her feel better.

Eli spoke first.

"He's got this wild idea he's going to put in a series of lakes on the property and being a twenty-seven-year-old dot.com zillionaire can't imagine why that would be a problem."

"Lakes? Up in the canyons?"

"Yup. And it's doable, too, despite the fact you folks live in a desert, but it'll require building dams and conduits, piping in water, et cetera. It'll cost many, many, many millions, but only after seventy-five or a hundred years of court dates, hearings, motions, briefs, reports, and studies ... and millions of dollars more in legal fees, all to get it past federal, state, and local agencies. And, of course, it will cost a fortune to maintain every year."

"You're kidding me. What happened to 'hey, boss that's beautiful, but?'"

"He's a zillionaire. I gave him that whole song and dance, as did a hundred other people, but he wants to go ahead anyway. There isn't tons for me to do until the lawyers sort things out, so, for the time being, I have other projects and a semi-permanent place to stay."

"We're almost neighbors, now," she said, secretly pleased that her being in LA might have influenced his decision in some way.

His chair was immediately beside hers and facing the opposite direction. Perhaps that sense of intimacy influenced her, and she felt another bout of candor strike.

"I wasn't going to call you back," she said quietly.

"You mean after dinner with the Saenz's?"

"Yes. You knew?"

"Not for certain ... I mean, it's pretty clear you've been in a bad way. And that night seemed especially bad."

"I'm not usually like this," she said in husky voice. "I'm not a crier ... I'm not so desperate or ... pathetic."

"Kate, you're none of those things ... except the crying bit. And that'll pass. Everyone goes through hard times in their lives. It doesn't define us."

"Except for you, Mr. I've Got the Discipline of a Stormtrooper."

"No, no ... don't ever let the outside fool you." There was a reluctance in his voice. "I don't ... I don't know ... I'm not sure how I was before the accident. I suspect I inherited some of Rachel's moods, or maybe it's the long-term effects of the head trauma, but either way, I've had problems over the years, a couple times pretty bad ones. Not long after Rachel died, I sort of ... came apart. And I had a tough go after the divorce, too. But I was lucky enough to have people in my life then. It's nice to think I could've handled it on my own, but there's something about just having someone there ... especially someone who doesn't judge you when you've done something stupid."

You fucker, said that wicked little voice inside her. She couldn't believe he'd used such a tender moment to suck her in.

"Did you really do that?"

"What? Shoot the Monkey Man? I like to think I hit him, but ...."

"You know what I mean. Did you really defile those two women?"

"Why would I lie about something like that?"

"To cheer me up, to teach a lesson about prying, to take my mind off the Flying Guy, to ...." There was an enormous moment of inspiration that took her by the scruff and gave her a thorough shake. "No ... to make a point about how easy it is to lie to someone," she said with confidence.

Just the faintest smile flitted across Eli's face, and then it was gone.

"I'll only say this," he said, carefully weighing his words, "I told you what? Four or five stories the other night? At least one of those stories is the absolute God's-honest truth. And at least one of them is more or less bullshit." Then he had the nerve to wink at her. "I'll leave it to you to figure out which are which."

"You fucker," she said aloud before catching herself. Her face shot to pure red as she clamped her hands over her mouth, both to cover her embarrassment and to squelch the peals of laughter that came after. It was some minutes before either of them could speak again. Eli's sense of humor, that's what had her hooked.

"You cuss pretty well for an amateur," he said after he recovered himself.

"It wasn't five stories. It was four. You owe me another one ... a good one." It was only fair, after all.

"I'm not sure I have any more. You got all my A-list material last night."

"And it can't be something you made up."

"Okay, come pick out what you want for lunch, and I'll figure out something to tell you after."