“Come on,” she said. “I want to learn some more of your secret spy-catcher skills.”

He laughed and carved into his steak. “Okay, tell me another story that’s not true.”

“About what?”

“Anything. Just make something up. A total fabrication.”

“All right.” She took a final bite of her meal, then dabbed her napkin over her lips and set it atop the empty plate. “When I first met you on the beach yesterday, I was physically repulsed by your presence. Like, completely horrified. You’re flabby and out of shape with no muscle tone to speak of, and your eyes are a ridiculous color.” She paused, flicking her gaze over his massive biceps and chiseled chest, before returning to his eyes. Her stomach did a funny little somersault, but Grant didn’t blink. Had she gone too far? His expression was passive, and he said nothing, but he was nodding slightly.

She kept talking to fill the silence. “And of course, now that I’ve spent a little more time around you, I know you’re a complete and utter dolt. You have no real talents like cooking or woodworking or home renovation, and you don’t seem to have any admirable connection to your family.” She pressed her lips together, but Grant kept nodding, a faint smile on his face.

“You have all these shelves around your house that are packed with books, which is a total bore—I mean, who

likes a man who reads? And I saw the diploma on your wall in the office—magna cum laude?—please, no one likes an intelligent man, especially not one with great big hands and killer abs and a smile that could melt titanium on an ice rink. And don’t even get me started on your complete lack of career ambition or failure to serve your country or community or charity or—”

“Are you finished?”

He was watching her with amusement in his eyes, so Anna managed a weak smile, even though the room felt

a little spinny. “Actually, no. I could probably keep going a while.”