.

never fixed waffles for me.”

      “They are frozen,” Cassidy said patiently.

      “Those, either,” Manny said with a grin.

      By the time the first popped up, Marise had returned to the kitchen. “I like your house,” she said.

      “It’s not finished,” Cassidy said.

      “I still like it. I always wanted to live in a home that looked like a real home.”

      “Where do you live?”

      “A condominium in California when we’re not traveling,” Marise said wistfully as she took a waffle on a plate. He’d already put a big dollop of butter on it, as well as real maple syrup.

      He put another on a plate for Manny and popped one in the toaster for himself, then he leaned against the sink and watched her eat.

      “A glass of milk?” he asked.

      “Thank you.”

      The milk was spoiled.

      “Coffee?” he suggested.

      “That would be good.”

      He looked for the instant coffee jar. It was empty. Manny was shaking his head.

      “Water would be fine,” she said.

      He poured her a glass of water and sat down to discover that his own waffle was now cold.

      This isn’t going to work.

      But it had to.

      It was going to be hell, though. Being in the same room with her disconcerted him. And it had been a long time since he’d felt so…inadequate.

      Just a few days. Then he could reclaim his life. His instant coffee. His hot frozen waffles. A shirt thrown on the sofa.

      A few days.

      A very long few days.

      And, he thought as he watched her enjoying those slightly over-toasted waffles, too few.

      That last thought was more terrifying than any killer.