I twisted in my seat to look at Nye. "What do you mean, it's the house?"

He paused in his pacing for a second. "It has to be. Whoever's doing this wants the house, not you. Think about it—apart from the initial burglary, everything that's been done wasn't only designed to scare you, but to scare you away from here."

The brick through my window, the message on the lounge wall, the eggs, my bike tyres, and now Twiglet. Nye's idea definitely had some merit. "But I wouldn't leave."

Was that a smile or a grimace? Hard to tell, but he still looked sexy. Oh boy, was I in trouble.

"I bet he didn't expect you to be so damned stubborn. What's the value of this place?"

"I don't know. I inherited it, remember?"

"And it never went on the market?"

"No."

"So, somebody could want it for themselves, and they just never had the opportunity to buy it?"

It was possible, but I couldn't really see it. "I guess, but it's not in great condition, or even in the best part of the village."

"Has anyone made you an offer for it?"

"I had one of those 'we sell any house' cards through the door from an estate agent, but apart from that, no."

"So, that leaves us with option two."

"Which is?"

"There's something in here that somebody wants."

I looked around the dilapidated kitchen. I'd done my best with it, but the whole place was still...tired.

"What could possibly be in here? It's full of junk."

"The first burglary, nobody took anything, right?"

"Not that I could tell."

"They just made a whole lot of mess. I reckon they were looking for something, and they clearly didn't find it, because everything since then has been done to terrify you into leaving."

Which could be the case if not for one massive flaw in his logic.

"Why now? The place was empty for months. If somebody wanted to search it, why didn't they turn the whole place over then? Nobody would even have noticed."

Nye stopped and leaned against the sink. "I can't answer that. Yet. Maybe they didn't know the thing was here? There must have been a trigger for all this. Who else knew your aunt left you this place in her will?"

"Nobody. She didn't have one. I was her only surviving relative, and one of those heir-hunting companies tracked me down from the Bona Vacantia list."

"I'll need their details."

"Mickey wouldn't have done anything. He's harmless."

"No such thing. And even if it wasn't him, he might have tipped someone off when he started digging into your aunt's life. Eleanor Rigby. Like the old Beatles song?"

"That's right."

"This started with her—I'm sure of it. You need to tell me everything you know about her."

"But I don't know anything. I only met her a couple of times when I was a child. She and my mother fell out, and I never saw her in later years."

"Well, we'll need to come at this from a different angle. Someone must have known her." Nye talked at a hundred miles an hour, no doubt mirroring his thoughts. I'd never seen him so animated. "What was the argument with your mother about? Do you have any other family who might be able to help us?"

"Only my father."

"Can you call him?"

Could I call him? Nye made it sound so easy. Like I could just pick up the phone and dial the man who'd shattered my childhood.

"Liv, what's up? You've gone white."

"I haven't spoken to my father in a decade," I whispered.

Nye crouched beside me and took my hands in his, making me feel dainty yet insignificant at the same time. Pluto to his sun.

"What happened, babe?"

"He ran off with his secretary when I was twelve, and I haven't seen him since. I don't even know where he is."

"What about other relatives?"

I shook my head, fighting back tears. "There's no one."

He enveloped me in his arms, and that hug took some of the pain away.

"Shit always happens to the sweetest people. Sometimes, I think karma's playing a joke on us."

Sometimes, yes. I nestled into Nye and breathed in his scent—a woodsy cologne over musk that was all man. His warmth seeped into me, and I never wanted to move again. Sometimes, karma came through.

"We can ask in the village about Eleanor," Nye said into my hair. "Are you up to paying Carol another visit?"

"I survived the first one, so why not?"

He pulled back and gave me a lopsided smile. "Yeah, you're right. I'm the one who's gonna be in trouble. I'll have a flak jacket sent over."

Nye found Carol's number and tried calling her, but there was no answer.

"She's probably gone out to a gossip session," I said. "WI meeting, knitting society, that sort of thing."

"Let's go tomorrow morning. She'll be around at breakfast if she's got guests in."

"What do we do now?"

"I'll get the geeks in the office to search in the meantime, but for you, I'd suggest dinner and an early night. Want me to order takeout?"

"No, I'm fine to make dinner." After all, that was what I'd promised.

Even though I felt jittery inside, I knocked out a quick spaghetti bolognese with a chocolate fondant for dessert. Nye cleaned his plate and had seconds.

"You weren't kidding when you said you could cook, were you?"

"Baking's more my thing, really, but I'm glad you liked it."

"There's only one thing more delicious in this room, and I'm looking at her."

Was it possible for feet to blush? Because I'm pretty sure mine did. I flushed from head to toe. Nye got up and walked towards me, and I waited in anticipation, every nerve ending aflame.

He carried on walking.

When he got to the sink, he put his hands on the edge and stared through the window at the darkness.

"Shit, I shouldn't have said that. Not to you."

I stood up. "What do you mean? Why not?"

Desperation tinged my voice, and I hated myself for that.

"I shouldn't be leading you on."

Words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them. "But I-I-I really like you."

I'd never bared my feelings to a man like that before, but when Nye turned, his stony mask told me my effort had been in vain.

"Liv, if I thought you were the type for a fling, I'd have you moaning underneath me upstairs by now. But you're not. You need a white knight."

"But what if I've fallen for black?" I whispered.

Because I had. The timing couldn't have been more wrong, but the man was right. Nye might have made my insides churn and my legs tremble, but it was more than that. He also made me feel secure. Nye was no Edward, and no Tate either.

He backed me up against the counter and leaned forward, one hand either side of my hips. Stormy eyes looked down into mine.

"I'm not the man you're looking for."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

"Stress does funny things to people."

"I didn't say that because I was stressed!"

Nye stared at me, and I pushed his hand away and sidestepped. Okay, I did sound just a little stressed.

He closed the gap between us again and cupped my cheek in his hand. "I'm going to save us both from future heartache and walk away. One day, you'll thank me."

"You arrogant—" I started, but he'd already left the room.

How dare he assume he knew what was best for me? A few seconds later, the living room door closed behind him. Not closed. Slammed. I eyed up the bottle of red on the table and got halfway through pouring myself a glass before I gritted my teeth and threw it down the sink.

No, I wouldn't resort to alcohol this time. If nothing else, I had to thank Edward for preparing me for this. Although my heart hurt worse for a man I'd never even kissed than it did after the demise of a two-year relationship.

I washed the dirty dishes on autopilot, then climbed the stairs alone. How did I misread things so badly? I'd dreamed of having Nye beside me in bed, and now I didn't even have a cat.

The cool expanse of cotton seemed to taunt me as I closed my eyes. Sleep wouldn't come easily tonight. Life would have been so much more straightforward if I'd liked Tate or Warren in the same way as I did Nye.

Why did my heart crave the one man I couldn't have?