Page 32 of Sinner’s Game

“Ronan…”

He takes a step closer, a teasing gleam in his eye. “Come on, or I won’t take you up.”

“That is incredibly unfair.”

He shrugs, like what can you do? “So much of life is.”

“You’re evil, you know that?”

“It’s a burden, but I bear it. Let’s head on into the house.” He turns toward a small door on the north side of the circular room. I stay put.

He pauses, his hand on the knob, then turns back to me.

“You’re incorrigible,” I tell him.

“One of my finer qualities.”

“Fine. Whatever. The silent, sexy type. Satisfied?”

“Silent?”

“Well, not now. Though maybe you should try harder to live up to your reputation.” I try to sound grumpy, but I know I fail. I’m too amused.

“And sexy.” He punctuates the word.

“Do you know how many sexy men I’ve met who’ve turned out to be complete jerks?” I’m barely managing to keep a straight face.

“I guess that means I’m a breath of fresh air.”

I can’t hold back any longer. I laugh, then nod. “Yeah. I guess you really are. Thanks,” I add.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. For being silly with me?” The words come out as a question because I really don’t know what I’m thanking him for other than being here and letting me—helping me—forget for a moment why I’m even on this stunning property.

“You’re welcome,” he says with soft sincerity, as if he understands all of that, even though I haven’t said a word. Honestly, I think maybe he does.

“So how long have you lived here?”

“Do you remember when it went on the market about six years ago?”

I nod. “I wanted to tour the place, but you actually had to provide financial statements.”

“I bought it. Moved in four years ago. Took about two to get her fixed up. I wanted to stay true to the exterior of both the house and the lighthouse, but both interiors needed significant work, especially from the standpoint of turning the lighthouse into an office. Ready for the tour?”

“Um, duh.”

“Come on.”

He uses a key code to open a locked steel door, revealing a winding staircase. I follow him up, feeling like I’m touring a European castle. “Do you have to maintain the light?” This is one of the few working lighthouses on the Southern California coast.

“The Coast Guard still does that, but only when necessary, which hasn’t happened yet. It was retrofitted when I bought it, so the lamp lasts a very long time. But the place itself is all mine.”

“That’s really cool. I’m glad it’s still functional. It’s like a piece of history.”

“Exactly what I thought when I bought it. Here we are,” he adds, stepping off the circular stairs and into a huge, spacious room with mostly glass walls and modern furniture, including a desk that must be at least six feet long and a sofa that is practically begging me to sink into it.

“This is your office? Wow.” I slowly walk around it, passing an interior wall that is lined with steel cases. “What’s in there?”