He smiled slowly. "If I fell to my knees, I'd find something better to do than grovel."
Her face blazed with heat. This was getting too hot to handle. "I work for the FBI," she blurted out.
His eyebrows shot up. "Do ye really?"
"Yes. We're in the same sort of business, Mr. MacKay. Catching bad guys."
He cocked his head, studying her. "Where are ye stationed?"
"Kansas City. You?"
"Wherever they need me. So ye really are a black belt in tae kwon do?"
He'd doubted her? She planted a hand on her hip. "I've been thoroughly trained in self-defense, Mr. MacKay."
A corner of his mouth dimpled. "My friends call me Robby."
Her heart pounded. "Are you calling me a friend?"
"Aye." He reached out and touched a strand of her hair that had escaped from the clip on the back of her head. "Does yer hair curl like this naturally?"
"I'm afraid so. It's impossible to deal with."
"I like it." He tugged on the strand till it was taut, then let go, and it bounced back into its normal corkscrew shape. He grinned. "A man could play with yer hair for hours." He touched her temple.
With a gulp, she stepped back. "I¨CI should check on my uncles. Would you like something to drink? Some hot tea?"
He lowered his hand. "I'm fine, thank you."
"I'll be right back." She dashed into the house and quickly set some water to boil on the stove. Chicken, she chided herself. She should have let him touch her, maybe even kiss her. But how could she trust him? She was so attracted to him, but as far as she knew, he was simply looking for a little fling to spice up his vacation.
She'd never been the type to indulge in a fling. Growing up with the ability to detect lies had caused her to avoid anything that smacked of insincerity. Besides, she would only be on the island for two weeks. Was that enough time to forge an honest, meaningful relationship? Did she dare even try it with a man she couldn't read? The unknown could be scary, but also very exciting.
She peered through the windowpane in the back door. He was still in the courtyard, amusing himself by peering through the telescope. Robby MacKay, a soldier on leave. She wondered how badly he'd been injured.
She fixed her cup of tea and carried it back to the courtyard. When he smiled at her, her heart stuttered. She was seriously falling fast.
She sat at the table and motioned for him to join her. "Are you sure I can't get you something to drink or eat?"
"I ate before I came." He sat beside her.
She liked the way his red hair glinted in the candlelight. It seemed rather long for a soldier, but it was neatly tied back. "How long will you be on Patmos?"
"About three more weeks." He hesitated a moment, then continued. "I'm ready to go back now, but my boss disagrees. He thinks I was traumatized or some such nonsense."
"Post-traumatic stress syndrome." Olivia sipped some hot tea. "It's very common among soldiers."
He shrugged one shoulder. "'Tis much ado about nothing. I know life is no' fair. There's no point in whining about it."
She gave him a worried look. "Sometimes it's healthier to talk things out. Repression can lead to serious side effects down the road, and I don't just mean emotional outbursts. It can affect your physical health."
He shot her an annoyed look. "I'm perfectly fine. And hell will freeze over before I'll talk to a damned psychologist."
She sucked in a quick intake of air. Her cup wobbled in her hand, and she set it down on the table.
He frowned at her. "What's wrong?"
Everything was wrong. Her heart plummeted into her stomach. She should have known this couldn't last.