"You didn't do me a favor," I said calmly. "Nick doesn't have anything I want. And you're not in the middle of anything, Vanessa."

Vanessa shook her head and gave me a cool glance overlaid with pity. "He told me a few things. About how he'd been treated. He was very charming. A little sad, actually."

I suppressed a bitter smile. How he'd been treated? That was what a narcissist did. He turned around and accused you of doing what he'd done, and he could be so convincing that you might even end up doubting yourself. I was sure Nick had told people that I'd treated him badly, that I'd walked out on him. But I couldn't control what he said, or whether others believed him or not.

"He can be charming," I allowed. "Every spider knows how to spin a web."

"There are two sides to every story, Haven." Condescension dripped from every syllable like rancid honey.

"Of course there are. But that doesn't mean both sides are valid." I probably should have shut my mouth right then. But I couldn't keep from adding, "And some people are all bad, Vanessa. I wouldn't wish Nick on any woman." Even you, I thought privately.

"I never realized how naive you are," my boss said. "I hope someday you learn to look at the world with a little more sophistication."

"I'll work on that," I muttered, and swiveled in my chair until my back was facing her.

It was not a surprise when Nick called in the middle of the day. I had already figured he'd gotten my work number from Vanessa. But the sound of his voice still caused my stomach to turn over.

"How was your date last night?" Nick asked. "I bet there wasn't much conversation going on after I left."

"Don't call me at work," I replied shortly. "Or at home, for that matter."

"There's only one thing a woman wants from a gym rat like that," Nick continued, "and it has nothing to do with talking."

I smiled a little, enjoying the fact that my ex-husband was so intimidated by Hardy. "He's not a gym rat," I said. "He happens to be very intelligent. And a good listener — which is a nice change."

Nick didn't seem to notice that last comment. "You didn't even go out. You stayed in the apartment and let him ball you all night, didn't you?"

I wondered if Nick had watched my apartment. That gave me the creeps. "That's not your business," I said.

"I wish you'd have been half so willing to give it out while we were married. Put a wedding ring on you, and you turn frigid."

Once that comment would have hurt. And I might have even believed that I was frigid. Now I knew better. And I knew Nick for exactly what he was, a narcissist who was incapable of caring about anyone but himself. I could never change him, or make him aware of his own flaws. Nick wanted what he wanted . . . he didn't understand himself any better than a shark was aware of why it wanted to kill and eat. It just did.

"Well, think God you're rid of me," I said. "Do us both a favor and don't call again, Nick."

"What about your things? What about that bracelet from your aunt — "

"If it means having to see you again," I said, "it's not worth it."

"I'll throw it in the f**king garbage," he threatened. "I'll pull it apart and — "

"I've got work to do." And I hung up on him, feeling triumphant and disgusted at the same time. I decided not to tell Hardy, or anyone, about the call from Nick. It would take little provocation for Hardy to track my ex-husband down and wipe him off the planet. And while I wouldn't have minded having Nick gone for good, I wouldn't be too crazy about visiting Hardy behind bars.

Over the next two weeks I learned a lot about Hardy. We spent every possible minute together, not by any plan or design. It was just that he had become the person I most wanted to be with. And the puzzling thing was, he seemed to feel the same way.

"It's almost too easy," I told Todd on the phone one night, while I was waiting for Hardy to come home from work. "There are no mind games. He calls when he says he's going to. He shows up on time. He really listens to me. He's sort of, well, perfect. It's kind of worrisome."

"No one's perfect. You're leaving something out. What is it? He must be hung like a cocktail weenie."

"No. If anything, he's too much the other way." There was a pronounced silence. "Todd? Are you still there?"

"Yeah. I'm just trying to think of a good reason to continue our friendship."

I grinned. "Jealousy is so unattractive, Todd."

"It would help if you could tell me one thing that's wrong. One flaw. Bad breath? Warts? Some condition that requires antifungal spray?"

"Would chest hair be a flaw?"

"Oh, yeah." Todd sounded relieved. "I can't stand a chest rug. You can't see the muscle cut."

I thought it best not to argue, even though I disagreed. There was something infinitely comforting and sexy about being held against a broad, hairy chest.

"Haven," Todd said, sounding more serious. "Remember what I told you about him."

"The thing about not being a simple guy? About being twisty twisted?"

"Yeah, that. I stand by my gut feeling. So be careful, sweetheart. Have fun, but keep your eyes open."

Later I pondered what it meant to keep your eyes open in a relationship. I didn't think I was idealizing Hardy . . . it was just that I liked so much about him. I liked the way he talked to me, and even more, the way he listened. I especially liked how tactile he was. He gave impromptu shoulder rubs, pulled me onto his lap, played with my hair, held hands. I hadn't been brought up in a physically affectionate family — Travises put a high premium on personal space. And after my experiences with Nick, I had never thought I could stand being touched again.