“You’re being overly sensitive, Megan. Dr. Hill is a brilliant man.” Megan looked down into the book on her lap. “Fine, he’s brilliant . . . he’s a brilliant lech. I don’t like being around him.” The living-room lights were turned off, save for the small Tiffany lamp beside the old sofa. Cain and Megan were seated beneath the lamp, reading from the same book. “Forget Dr. Hill. Did you finish this stuff about Leptospira australis?” “Screw it.” “Can’t. They’re wee itty-bitty things.” Megan shook her head, and, putting his arm around her, Cain nuzzled her on the cheek. “Dan—” He licked her jawline. “Dan, please!” Cain leaned back, throwing up his hands. “Okay, what is it?” “I don’t know.”