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Chapter One

Jordan Wilkins read the sign above the double glass door and groaned. Incognito's. Exotic to Erotic, A FANTASY LAND OF MAKE OVERS.

Though it wasn't unusual for men and women to use the same hair stylist, he still preferred going to an old-fashioned men's barbershop. He hoped such a place existed in this Florida panhandle community. Too busy getting the ball rolling on the Brantley Shores mall project for Johnson Enterprise, he'd not had time to look.

As he walked inside, a strong stench wafted through the air, tickled his nose and burned his throat. He coughed.

A brunette, standing behind a chest-high counter with a phone receiver pressed to her ear, glanced up and smiled. Jordan smiled back, temporarily forgetting his aversion for entering the feminine establishment. He looked beyond the pretty receptionist and reflected in a mirror-lined wall, a row of unappealing, plastic-capped and tinfoil-wrapped women staring back at him.

They reminded him of a tough renovation job he'd recently completed on a rundown historical building in Orlando. The before, not the after. Unlike the beautiful masterpiece turned out by Johnson Enterprise, not one of these antiquities of womanhood looked as if she were getting the exotic or erotic treatment Incognito's advertisement promised.

The brunette hung up the phone and gave Jordan another flirtatious smile. "May I help you?"

Jordan cleared the thickness lodged in his throat from the chemical scent, and said, "Yes, ma'am."

"Carrie. My name," she added, tapping the tag over her left breast when he lifted a brow in question.

"Er, Carrie, I have an appointment with Louise at five."

With her hair done up in little flat curls to match the era, the young woman's red flapper dress looked like something straight out of the roaring twenties. Her deep-veed neckline made a provocative part when she leaned over the appointment book, giving Jordan an ample glimpse of cleavage. When she straightened, he caught a mischievous glint in her eye that took all the fun out of looking.

"Come this way, Mr. Ravens," Carrie said, walking away before he could correct her. He shrugged his shoulders and followed. To avoid the gawking stares of the row of women, he kept his eyes on the fringed bottom of Carrie's outfit, which caressed her calves in a sensuous sway.

She seated him at an empty chair next to a fat-cheeked woman who gave him a sly peek through short sprigs of dark brown hair. She wore a silly grin that reminded him of a happy face sticker. The technician wielding the brush dryer that lifted the hair and obscured the woman's face fit the salon's erotic image rather well. A sheer yellow garment revealed a pair of long, sinewy legs. A jogger like himself, he theorized. He lifted his eyes to her ebony-skinned stomach where a diamond-like jewel sparkled and undulated each time she moved.

"Harrumph." The sound came from the chair to his left. He spun around and met the disapproving gaze of a prune-faced woman who had small pieces of tinfoil sticking out all over her head.

A tentative smile lifted the corners of his lips. Her forehead screwed up into a mass of deep wrinkles when she glanced at the stomach-decorated hair tech, then back at him. He wondered who she disapproved of most, him or the belly dancer hair stylist. When Jordan out-stared her, she lifted a Good Housekeeping magazine in front of her face and made another condemning sound.

"This is Louise's station, someone will be with you in just a moment," Carrie said, patting him on the shoulder as if she knew exactly what he was going through. She gave him an apologetic look when she draped a bright pink smock around him and then lightened the mood by screwing her eyebrows up to form a straight line across her forehead, a perfect imitation of the stern woman sitting next to him. Jordan grinned. Tinsel Head cleared her throat as if she'd witnessed the young woman's mimicry through the dense pages of the magazine and Carrie scurried away.

He watched her shimmy and sway around a group of stations located in the middle of the room. She looked back and smiled at him when she stopped and tapped the shoulder of a woman hovered over a deep washbasin--Carlton Ravens' fiancée, no doubt. Carlton had made the appointment to have his hair cut by his fiancée, Louise. Since Jordan's construction foreman had to fly to the main office in Orlando for a work orientation, and since Jordan was in bad need of a trim, Carlton graciously offered to let Jordan take his place.

The strawberry blonde straightened, stretched, and glanced his way. He felt a sudden thud in his chest and checked to see if Tinsel Head noticed the guilty surge of heat that crept up his neck and other places.

The magazine blocked her view so he allowed himself another look at Carlton's sweetheart. And what a sweetheart!

He couldn't see her eyes clearly from this distance, but they seemed to glow, indicating a vivid, bright color. Her lips, even bare of red gloss, looked well-defined, full and enticing. Nothing alluring about her outfit, though, unless you considered the way the black lacing at the front of her gray jumper lifted and enhanced the fullness of her breasts against a prim white blouse.

Tiny red-gold wisps of hair hung in uneven ringlets around her small oval face. His project manager was one lucky s.o.b.

Until a week ago, Jordan hadn't seen Carlton Ravens since they'd worked on a project together for Benjamin-Micah Construction a year ago, so he'd never met his fiancée. When Anthony Johnson had asked Carlton to fly back to Orlando with him today for a company orientation, his old friend had insisted Jordan take the appointment with Louise. The haircut was a part of Jordan's effort to make a good impression on the group of hostile community leaders he must face at the town hall later tonight.

He realized he'd been staring at the woman too long when he heard another disgusted snort. He avoided the eyes of the wrinkle-faced, foil-wrapped head next to him as he turned around and sorted through the stack of magazines lying on the countertop. He glanced into the mirror and caught the woman leaning forward to peek over his shoulder at his selection.

The smelly chemical scent hit him again and he sat back, snapped the publication open, imitating the woman's previous show of disapproval. He didn't realize until he stared down at an ad for sanitary napkins in the woman's magazine how foolish he must have looked.

* * *

When she felt a tap on her shoulder, Kate rose from over the basin and stretched. She'd spent at least five minutes rinsing the perm solution from Mrs. Walker's hair before the woman was satisfied with the job.

"Have you seen Louise?" Carrie whispered. "Her five o'clock, Carlton Ravens, is here."

"You can sit up now, Mrs. Walker," Kate said. She wrapped a towel around the woman's head and began massaging the excess moisture out.

"Are you sure you got it rinsed good enough this time. My husband hates for me to come home smelling like I just came from the beauty shop."

"I'm sure, Mrs. Walker." Kate sighed. The first week of each month, every woman past the age of sixty-five held a standing appointment with Incognito's, the only hair salon in Brantley shores. Most were sweet, adorable grandmotherly types. But Kate had gotten more than her share of complainers today. She was hot, tired, and her feet hurt in the pointy-toed shoes. The heavy material of the new costume Jodie asked her to try out today hadn't helped matters either.

She took a quick, envious glance at Jasmine's light, airy harem outfit. The dark-skinned beauty seemed to get all the best costumes, at least the coolest ones anyway. Of course, she was the only employee who had the figure for the flowing material--tall, willowy and graceful.

Jodie insisted all the image consultants dress as if they'd come from a different era, and she had fun typecasting each one. Right now Kate felt anything but the composed, virtuous Dutch milkmaid that Jodie believed best suited her personality.

Though the worst heat of summer was over, the air conditioning in the old frame building didn't do an adequate job of keeping the place cool. Kate blew at a wisp of hair plastered to her forehead.

"Louise already left." Then so Mrs. Walker couldn't hear, Kate leaned near Carrie's ear and whispered, "I can't believe the man is so inconsiderate. He left a message for Louise while we were out to lunch that he had to leave town on business."

She very nearly voiced an unlady-like expletive when she cast a darting glance toward the thoughtless man sitting at Louise's station. Just a blow dry away from finishing the day, Kate wasn't in the mood to worry about Louise's errant fiancé.

She lifted one of her aching feet and rotated it for relief while contemplating the short respite at home before meeting her brother, Artie, at the town meeting.

"I don't remember taking any message like that," Carrie whispered back.

"I thought Jodie told you. She left the message taped to Louise's mirror. I don't know what he expects, making a spur of the moment change without notifying her."

"You're so rigid, especially about men," Carrie scolded, then raised her voice slightly and added dreamily, "Ohhhh, just look at him. Isn't he cute? Louise is so lucky."

"Ouch! Kate, you're rubbing too hard."

"Sorry, Mrs. Walker."

"Well, what are we going to do?" Carrie asked. "You know Jodie wants us to be especially courteous to the men from the mall construction. She's depending on the extra business these next few months. Who knows what will become of Incognito's when the new mall opens."

Kate frowned. She looked down at the thin head of hair she'd toweled dry. She tossed the wet terry cloth into a bin, retrieved a dry one from the shelf and draped it around Mrs. Walker's shoulders. It wouldn't take more than a minute or two to do this blow-dry. Louise would cover for her under similar circumstances. She sighed with resignation.

"Okay, I'll take care of it, Carrie. Tell Mr. Ravens I'll be with him shortly."

The dry took longer than Kate expected. She had to rearrange Mrs. Walker's hair at least three times before she'd gotten it styled to suit her. Kate pocketed the hard earned dollar tip and approached the man at Louise's station from the front desk where she'd bid Mrs. Walker goodbye. She viewed his face in the mirror in front of him. Carrie's description of Louise's fiancé was misleading. Cute just didn't fit. Drop-dead handsome was more accurate.

An involuntary moan slipped past her lips and she glanced around to make sure no one heard her. No one had, because with the exception of Mrs. Davidson and Jasmine who were now at the washbasins, and Carrie sitting at the front desk, everyone had already left. Jodie, the owner, had been mysteriously absent all afternoon, which puzzled Kate since she hadn't mentioned having to leave. If her employer didn't return soon, Kate would be expected to stay and lock up. She'd have to call Artie and tell him she couldn't make the meeting.

Straightening her spine, Kate narrowed her eyes on the broad shouldered hunk and reevaluated him. It took more than hard muscle and good looks to impress her these days. Her ex-husband had been a looker too, and he turned out to be the biggest womanizing scoundrel east or west of the Apalachicola River. Besides, Carlton Ravens was already taken, and even if he weren't, in spite of Jodie's admonishment, Kate didn't have much use for anyone associated with Johnson Enterprise.

The only point in his favor was Louise's defense of him, saying he'd taken the job to be near her. Their weekend-commuter romance--they'd met six months ago at her sister's wedding in Atlanta--must have become quite tiring.

Kate paused to shake off the weak-kneed feeling she got when the man pressed a hand behind his neck and stretched. Geez, she'd been dead on her feet before, but never to the point of fainting. She shook off the feeling and scrutinized the light streaks in his tawny-blond hair that brushed across his wide shoulders.

He didn't seem particularly interested in reading because he was rapidly flipping pages of the magazine. With his head lowered, she couldn't see his eyes, but she noted the tiny squint lines that ran outward from the corners. As a construction worker, he probably spent a great deal of time outdoors, which gave him a nicely tanned face.

He reminded her of a surfer-type model on a poster displayed in the front window of Incognito's a few months back. A little too long for her taste though, this man's hair fell a good three inches over his collar. But as a connoisseur of beautiful manes, she had an urge to run her hands through the thick mass. Being an image consultant gave her the perfect excuse to satisfy her whim.

Close behind him now, she reached out and slid her fingers through the silky strands. When he looked up at her with a pair of earth shattering gold-brown eyes, she had to bite her lower lip to keep from making another spontaneous sound.

* * *

Jordan felt the light touch of slender fingers thread upward through the back of his hair. His eyes locked with large green ones in the mirror, causing him another jolt of desire.

"Hi," she said. If velvet had a sound her voice would be synonymous.

"Hi," he rasped back. Thank God, the nosy old biddy was gone. He was sure he sounded like a warthog with a sore throat.

It took a moment before he could pry his gaze away from the sea-green one staring back at him long enough to take in the rest of her appearance. He laid the magazine over his lap when he felt another twitch in his lower region.

She's Carlton's fiancée, he reminded himself. She continued to run her fingers though his hair as she made a slow circle around him. He twisted in the seat and searched for something about her to turn him off.

Too short! With him sitting on the barber-type chair, her head barely cleared his shoulder. He lifted his gaze to her hair. It reminded him of the inside of an overripe papaya. Braided and pulled into a coronet framing her head, it made her look very much an alluring young Fraulein.

Jesus! He was concentrating on the wrong things.

She smiled. He frowned.

He looked for other flaws besides her height. Her nose was a bit pointy and her chin a little sharp. Not much of an imperfection when her expressive sea-green eyes, elegant swan-like neck and full natural pink lips distracted from those minor shortcomings.

Her fingers in his hair felt like a lover's tender caress. Thankfully, the magazine hid his most telling reaction from view.

Libido in check, he shook himself mentally, leaned forward and placed the magazine on the counter, grateful for an excuse to detach her hands from their tantalizing foray. But, instead of the relief he expected, the separation brought an unwanted deprived feeling. "Could you hurry it up? I've been waiting quite awhile."

She frowned at the reprimand. "Of course. What would you like?"

What would you like, he mimicked silently and had an instant vision of her hair released from those thick, tight braids and spread across a pillow. His pillow.

She jerked open a drawer in front of him and took out a pair of scissors. His impression of a fraulein was further emphasized when he got a closer look at her drab gray dress. It resembled something he'd seen in a World War One movie. The garment covered her primly enough, from neck to mid-calf, but the tight bodice that outlined her well-rounded breasts kept drawing his attention.

She had a sweet, flowery scent that he immediately associated with tulips, even though he had no idea what tulips smelled like. The gathered skirt of the wool garment draped softly around her derriere when she bent to open a lower drawer and caused another painful twinge in his groin. He swallowed and continued to use his best defense; being rude. "I'd like to have you trim my hair and be able to get out of here sometime within the next week if at all possible."

She slammed the drawer shut and straightened. She gave him a quelling go-to-hell look he knew he deserved.

"I guess you don't want a wash then," she sniffed.

A wash would have been nice, but it probably would only prolong his agony. "That's right."

She walked behind him, seeming to deliberately avoid further eye contact. She combed his hair roughly forward over his eyes. Her scissors had a ruthless snipping sound. A blow dryer hummed from somewhere on the other side of the room.

Jordan chastised himself for being so abrupt. This was not how he should be treating Carlton's fiancée. They were bound to be thrown together at various social functions in the near future. He should try to be cordial. He'd just decided to apologize when she leaned forward and her breast brushed across his shoulder. Surprised by the sensual touch, he jumped, causing the chair to swivel sharply to the right.

The scissors closed with a loud snip.

He caught her as she fell across his hard thighs. Thankfully, his hand was over the part of his anatomy that would tell her just how hard that part of his anatomy had become. He became distinctly aware of how soft she was in contrast. Even through the heavy skirt, when he turned over his hand to help lift her off his lap, her flesh molded to his palm with such perfection he couldn't help what he did next. It just happened.

As his five-year-old nephew, Tony, would say, 'the devil made him do it'. He gently squeezed her supple bottom.

He could have used the excuse that he was helping her up, if his other hand hadn't come down on her waist holding her in place. She struggled for a moment, then her eyes went wide when she looked up at him and she gave a little squeal.

Damn! Maybe he squeezed harder than he thought.

He started to apologize, then realized the cause of her screech wasn't from pain, nor from his familiar advances--unless he was losing his touch--when she covered her mouth, averted her head and muffled a giggle.

In the mirror, he caught sight of her as she burst into full-bloom laughter. Hell, the whole damned shop stared at him--at least the three he saw--behind hand-stifled snickers from Carrie, the belly dancer, and Tinsel Head who stood at the checkout counter wearing a silver-blond helmet that he assumed was her real hair. He followed the direction of their fascination to his own reflection, and discovered the source of their amusement. Apologies for improper advances and uncontrollable attractions forgotten, he jumped to his feet, unceremoniously dumping the Fraulein onto the floor.

"Jesus! Look what you did to my hair!"

Easing her way up off the hardwood floor, she rubbed her bruised posterior, then started to speak. "I-hiccup--"

"Look! Look, what you did!" Jordan felt like an idiot for repeating himself and even more so because he was doing it in front of a sniggering bunch of women.

Not enjoying being the center of attention, he gave them all a scathing glare that sent them back to what they were doing before he'd become their source of entertainment. Then he looked at the papaya-headed nymph and rasped out between clenched teeth, "What in the hell are you going to do about this?" He reached up and grabbed the short, spiked strands of hair that stuck out above his forehead.

"Hiccup." Kate placed a hand over her mouth in an effort to repress the ill-timed case of hiccups. Her mirth was arrested temporarily by the quelling look in his eyes. If looks could kill, she thought, she'd be dead meat. "Hiccup."

He shifted his glare back to the mirror and tried to brush down the disobedient strands. When he released them, they returned to their standing position.

She slapped her hand back over her mouth in a futile effort to hold down a giggle that bubbled up in her throat and popped out anyway, quickly followed by, "Hiccup."

He scowled at her. Gold sparks flared from his eyes and subdued Kate's next laugh. She hiccupped again instead.

It was his fault for giving her those heated looks with those beautiful golden-brown eyes, she thought, her amusement turning sour. She stewed in silence. From the way he groped at her body, she wondered if he'd tripped her on purpose, just so he could play innocent when he copped a feel. The unfaithful clod. Poor Louise. "Hiccup."

All Louise ever talked about was how in love she and Carlton were and what a wonderful, loyal, loving and handsome man he was. Well, handsome, Kate conceded, but as for the other traits that Louise had praised, well, "Hiccup"...poor Louise.

"I asked you a question!"

Fascinated by the twitch in his jaw, Kate's hiccups subsided and she gaped in silence.

"What the hell are you going to do?" Jordan hissed under his breath. He was trying to remain calm, wasn't he? He was trying to be nice, wasn't he? Hell, Jordan thought, it wasn't the hair so much. He was not that vain. It was the humiliation. That was it!

The little hoyden had fondled him. She'd rubbed her hands through his hair, rubbed her soft bosom against his shoulder and caused him to lose control of his senses as well as his libido. Jesus! How much was a guy supposed to take? And to think that Carlton thought the sun rose and set in this, this woman. This little tease he'd offered to marry. Poor Carlton.

"Please sit down. I'll fix it," she coaxed sweetly.

That smile...that smile could make mush out of granite, Jordan thought, causing him to lose some of his annoyance and compelling him to return to the chair as she'd asked. She swirled his chair around until his back faced the mirror.

"What are you doing?" Jordan asked, worriedly.

"I can reach the front easier this way." She continued to wear that sweet, innocent smile.

Well, he thought, that makes sense. He wouldn't have to worry about her leaning those beautiful soft mounds on his shoulders anymore. It made sense until she lifted her arms to cut his hair. This new position gave him a view that again brought that unhealthy-healthy sensation to his lower region.

Hovering directly in front of his eyes were those beautiful jiggling mounds. His hands began to itch like crazy. His knuckles turned white where he clutched the chair arms in an effort to keep from following his instinct to reach up and grasp those handfuls of man's pleasure. It must be the desire for the forbidden, he thought. He'd never felt this uncontrollable urge around another woman in his life.

Snip. Snip. Snip. She'd show him, Kate thought.

She didn't like being threatened, especially about something that hadn't been her fault in the first place. She'd fix him all right. She gave him another condescending smile and ignored those fascinating sparks in his amber eyes. His expression of outrage took on a more moderate, less heated look as he relented and eased further back in the chair. Poor Louise.

Snip. Snip. The lecherous beast.

She didn't have to look down to see him staring at her breasts. She could feel it. She only hoped he couldn't see her nipples standing at attention beneath her clothes. The thought made her fingers stop a bit closer to his scalp as she clipped the strands above them.

Snip. Snip. She felt a warm rush of air as he exhaled. She shivered. She clipped and held her breath to abate another bout of hiccups that threatened to rise in her throat. Poor Louise.

The little sorceress was really enjoying this, Jordan thought. He noted the way her nipples pebbled beneath the soft material of her blouse. A vision, another fantasy of taut nubs standing out against a pinkish brown areola sent a wave of current through his body.

He tried closing his eyes to banish the view from his mind and let out a small swooshing sound when he released the lung full of air he'd contained much too long when the impression remained. Eyes closed, the image became even more fine-tuned. He tried a deep breathing exercise he used when jogging, to calm his erratic heartbeat. Her sweet flowery scent invaded his concentration and caused a new hothouse fantasy to cross his mind.

He wished she'd hurry up and finish. Then he wished she wouldn't. He didn't think about how much hair was being removed. He was relishing his fantasies too much. He opened his eyes just enough to take a peek at those sweet little nubs again, then squeezed them tightly shut when her breasts moved seductively against her silky, soft blouse. Damn right, she knew what she was doing, he thought. Poor Carlton.

Kate finally stood back and observed her handiwork. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down slightly to keep from grinning. Maybe she got a little too carried away. He was still a handsome devil though, even with his new, much shorter hairstyle. He would be furious, she thought. She just hoped that Louise would forgive her, but she would leave it to him to explain what had happened. She would love to be a fly on the wall then.

She picked up the soft-bristled brush and cleaned the loose hair from his shoulders with meticulous care. She thought he mumbled a curse when she blew at a few stubborn bristles on his nape. He was going to be outraged, she thought, and glanced around nervously to make sure her cohorts were within shouting distance.

Jasmine was stronger than she looked. The mud wrestling she did down at Papa Joe's place on Saturday nights kept her in tiptop shape. And even though Carrie was attracted to the man, Kate knew she could depend on both her friends to come to her aide if she needed them.

She slowly removed the smock and turned him toward the mirror and stepped back. The outburst she'd been prepared for didn't come. However, the silence that ensued was twice as menacing.

Jordan stared at his reflection for a long moment. He thought of all the times his sister-in-law, Emma, had ruffled his long tresses and cajoled him about getting it cut into an executive style like his brother, Micah's. Some of the last words his father had said this afternoon before boarding the plane with Carlton was, "Jordan, be sure you get a haircut. Remember, the image presented for the company at this meeting tonight is half the battle of winning the citizens over to our way of thinking."

Well, wouldn't his father and Emma be happy if they could see him now?

That thought took some of the edge off his anger--some, but not all. He avoided looking at the little green-eyed enchantress. She probably thought she'd gotten back at him for squeezing her luscious butt when she'd fallen across his lap. Maybe this was her way of getting even. Or more likely it was a subconscious attempt to alleviate her own conscience about her part in what happened. Well, he'd get his revenge, too.

Somehow.

Poor Carlton. Someone should tell him what kind of woman he was engaged to. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing. This one is on the house," she said with a magnanimous show of even white teeth as she backed away as if she were afraid he'd pounce on her.

He frowned. He'd never hurt a woman in his life, although taking this one over his knee was mighty tempting. He pulled out a large bill and threw it down on the counter. "Hell, lady, you deserve something for the job you did on me today."

Chapter Two

Jordan rushed into his rented bungalow on the beach. With less than thirty minutes to get ready and make it to the community center for the meeting, he had to hurry. By the time he showered and dressed, he'd almost forgotten about the sweet little lamb that had given him a shearing until he picked up a brush to run through his nonexistent hair.

He stood staring at the unbelievable sight for a moment. He'd not worn his hair above his ears since he was a small child, when his mother decided she was tired of combing his unruly locks. At least, that was the reason she gave his stepfather when she insisted that Bradford start taking him to the barbershop twice a month.

Truth be told, he couldn't remember his mother ever taking the time to comb his hair. If his stepfather didn't do it for him or he didn't think to do it himself--which pre-school boys rarely do--it would remain for days in a tangled dishevel.

Although he didn't like the buzz cut he got, he did enjoy the friendly atmosphere among the men in the shop. And he'd been willing to do almost anything to keep his mother happy.

Soon afterward his mother's mental state began to deteriorate to a point where she didn't even notice his hair. Most days she hardly looked at him since she either locked him into the closet or locked him outside. Outside was much better since he could go to the bathroom whenever he needed to, albeit, behind a tree or out in the wooded area behind their shack of a house.

And just after he turned five and made that last barber shop trip shortly before his mother died, he swore to himself that when he got old enough to make his own decisions, he'd never have his hair cut again. Of course, he'd relented several years later when it became a nuisance while going about his summer jobs doing yard work. So he'd had it clipped to just below his ears, then kept that style after he learned the girls liked it.

Jordan turned his head from side to side. At least, he had normal looking ears. Not protruding elephant ears like Calvin Bonner. He and his friends had teased the poor boy unmercifully when he arrived at school after his dad had practically shaved his head.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror now, Jordan felt an affinity with Calvin and remorse for his thoughtless remarks.

Damn Carlton's fiancé for trying to make him into a Calvin Bonner look-a-like.

Of course, he was exaggerating a little. Actually, she'd done a rather nice job of tapering the sides around his ears to blend with the chewed look on top. There was very little left there except the blunt sprig that flipped out over his forehead. It was a little shorter than was fashionable, but apparently she'd had to do that to make it match the gap she'd taken when she'd fallen into his lap. Remembering that pleasant experience, his anger began to subside. It wasn't so much that as it was the pair of full sensual lips and sea-green eyes that continued to haunt him. He shook himself out of the abstracted musings and reminded himself for the umpteenth time "she's Carlton's fiancée".

Just as he turned to put his suit coat on to leave, the phone rang. His voice came out abnormally stilted. "Hello."

"Jordan?"

Jordan softened his tone. "Oh. Hi, Dad."

He only recently started calling Anthony Johnson "Dad". Their first meeting had taken place only four years ago. Though, during the time since, Jordan had come to love and respect the man, it was still a little difficult for him to use the paternal tag. Spending more and more time out of town and having to communicate with him by phone generated the necessity to address his father in some way with more frequency. Jordan thought it surprising how often you could converse with someone face to face without ever calling the other person by name.

He certainly could not answer the man over the phone with, "Oh, it's you," or, "Mr. Johnson." And even though his father had the foresight to recognize Jordan's discomfort with the situation and gave him the option of calling him Anthony, Jordan saw the relief and pleasure in the man's eyes when he decided to call him "Dad".

The mall project was very important to Jordan. It would be the first major job he'd have total management of from start to finish. Even though he'd supervised several lucrative projects before leaving his half-brothers' company, Benjamin-Micah Construction, to go to work for his father at Johnson Enterprise, he still felt the need to prove his competence.

His father's goal was for him to become a vice president when old man Swartz retired and eventually to replace Anthony as president. Anthony's influence as well as his controlling interest would have been enough to assure Jordan's promotion. But Jordan agreed with his father, at the age of twenty-seven, he'd needed a few more years to gain the respect of the much older staff before taking over. Bringing this project in on time would help.

He had great respect for Anthony's opinion. That was why he'd gone to Carlton's fiancée to be groomed before the meeting. He wanted to present a good impression for his father as well as for the company Anthony had built from scratch thirty-five years ago.

"...afraid I'd miss you," Anthony said, bringing Jordan out of his reverie. He realized his father had been speaking to him the whole time, but knowing this was merely a pep talk before the town hall meeting, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what he'd been saying.

"I was just on my way out."

"I won't keep you long then. Are you prepared for the meeting with the community leaders?" Anthony asked.

"All shaved, shined and sheared," Jordan answered, with an emphasis on the sheared part. He touched the side of his head and envisioned himself as fitting in well as a member of the military.

Anthony laughed. "I wasn't worried about your personal appearance, son."

"Oh, yeah?" Jordan grinned. "Then why the instructions just before I left to buy a new suit and get a haircut?"

"Well...it always helps to look your best. Gives you an air of confidence and power," his father assured him.

"Well, you have nothing to worry about. All I need now is a uniform and stripes on my sleeves."

"Huh? Is there a problem, Jordan?" Anthony asked, obviously concerned by Jordan's sinister remark. "If you're not feeling well, we can reschedule the meeting. Then I could fly up and go with you."

Feeling contrite for taking his foul mood out on his father, Jordan's attitude mellowed. "I don't foresee any problem with the locals tonight." That wasn't exactly true, for he knew some of the business owners weren't any too happy. It wasn't just that the residents were worried about losing the small town flavor of their community. He knew it was that many shop owners feared being put out of business when the new mall opened up. For some, it could be a legitimate concern that Jordan wasn't sure how he could alleviate. "We just need to assure the residents that we're not the ogres of disruption and destruction they've been led to believe."

"Well, if anyone can do that, I'm sure you can. You'll call me afterwards and let me know how things went?"

"Sure thing." Jordan knew it wasn't a lack of confidence in him that made Anthony such a worrywart. it was just the man's nature. He was used to having his fingers-in-the-pie, so to speak, and relinquishing these matters of responsibility were bound to cause him moments of anxiety. Jordan was about to hang up when his father added.

"Jordan."

"Yes."

"Remember, no matter the outcome of this meeting, we've already got our permits. So the only thing riding on this is community cooperation when the project starts. Although it will make life a lot easier to have it, it's not imperative. I've seen it go both ways over the years. So don't be overly upset if things don't go well. I have every confidence that you'll do your best."

"Thanks, Dad." This time Jordan did not hesitate in his use of the paternal name.

* * *

"Mom, have you seen my tennis shoes? I was sure I left them under my bed," Kate said with some urgency. She kneeled on the closet floor and rummaged through the boxes stacked on the floor. She hadn't bothered to unpack a lot of her things since returning to live with her mother almost three years ago.

At the time, she'd opted for the lesser of two evils--staying with her mother or staying in a bad marriage. Her mother was not an easy person to live with and Kate had never intended to remain in the same house with her forever. But each time she tried to bring up the subject of moving, her mother managed to make her feel guilty for wanting to leave her all alone.

Kate sat back on her heels, feeling frustrated. If she didn't hurry, she'd never make it to Enrico's on time.

The last client of the day caused her to have to work overtime. She'd skipped her usual walk on the beach on her way home. If not for Louise's snobbish boyfriend showing up she would have been gone long before the mother with three small boys came in.

It happened as she cleaned up her station to leave. Jodie had returned but seemed preoccupied when Kate hinted that she could use a little assistance. Jasmine offered to help out after she'd finished Mrs. Davidson, but the mother was so pleased with the results of the first child, that she insisted that Kate cut the others, also.

After she finished the children, she gave a prayer of thanksgiving when the man wearing a bright green windbreaker walked in and Jodie motioned him over to her station.

Jodie Marcona, the owner of the shop, had mysteriously disappeared earlier. Kate assumed she'd gone to her apartment above the salon, nursing another one of her migraine headaches. Poor Jodie had been plagued with them recently and had developed a tendency to leave the shop without notifying anyone.

Kate was dog-tired but she'd already missed the community meeting and she didn't intend to miss the dinner engagement she had with Artimus. Now she was being delayed because of her missing shoes. She could wear another pair, but after standing all day, the walking shoes would give her feet a much-needed reprieve.

Knowing her mother often used her things without putting them back where they belonged, she asked again, "Please Mom, I'm in a hurry. Have you seen my shoes?"

Kate stood in the doorway, starring at her mother who was propped up by a pillow in her favorite chair. Lilia Fraser wore an old faded bathrobe and worn slippers. Her hair was a washed out gray that hung limply down her back. Even though Kate offered numerous times to do her hair, her mother always declined. She looked like a woman nearer ninety than sixty.

"What are you in such an all fired rush for, anyway? Where are you going?" her mom questioned grumpily. Kate's mother watched reruns of "Little House on the Prairie" every evening and she didn't like the interruption.

"I'm going out to dinner, Mom. I told you this morning. Remember?"

"Shhh." Lilia held up her finger, demanding silence.

Laura Engles was saying something important--much more important than her own daughter, Kate thought.

Sighing with resignation, Kate rummaged through her closet for another pair of shoes. The only thing that would look all right with the jeans and sweater she'd opted to wear was an old pair of sandals.

Kate didn't spend a lot of money on clothes, since she spent most of her time at work. Her employer insisted that they wear the costumes she picked out, expecting to be reimbursed for the expense when she provided them herself. Since the costumes would look ridiculous as street wear, most of the stuff Kate hardly ever got a chance to wear outside of work.

She probably had one that would look appropriate enough in Enrico's Restaurant, but her favorite off-duty outfit consisted of a pair of blue jeans or cutoff shorts and a T-shirt. She had to play dress-up all day, and she'd be darned if she'd wear one of the costumes on her leisure time. So she had insisted that Artimus chose a place where she could dress casual. Enrico's Seaside Italian Restaurant was a place where you could go dressed either way, as were most of the beachside restaurants.

"So. You're going out again?" Lilia stood in the doorway to Kate's bedroom now. Obviously the house on the prairie had been put to bed for the night.

Kate hopped around on one foot while she slipped the other into one of her sandals. "Mother, I haven't been out in two weeks."

Her mother snorted. "Who you going out with? Not a man."

Yes a man! Kate wanted to shout. She scowled into the mirror and bit her tongue to hold back the retort as she applied a small amount of lipstick. But of course it would be a slight exaggeration, since the man she was meeting tonight just happened to be her brother. And the last thing she wanted to do was tell her mother that she was meeting her own son. A son who refused to come to the house to pick Kate up so he wouldn't have to see Lilia. Kate was much more considerate of her mother than that.

Lilia Fraser was an overbearing and sometimes obnoxious creature, but in spite of her insensitivity to other people's feelings, Kate would never deliberately hurt her. So instead she just said, "I'm meeting a friend, Mom." Then to keep her mother from questioning her any further, she brushed by her quickly. Picking up her purse off the hall table, she reached for the front door.

"You know I don't like being alone at night," her mother admonished.

Kate inwardly groaned. This was her mother's lament every time she went out. She knew it wasn't because the woman was afraid of being alone. Heck, she'd raised three children for many years without a husband to help her and had never shown any fear during all that time. This reminder made Kate soften toward her as it always did. She hugged her mother. "I know you don't, Mom. Just lock the door after me, and don't answer it. I promise I won't be very late."

"What if Mary Jane comes over?"

Mary Jane Smith was their neighbor and the closest thing her mother had to a friend, since her obnoxious attitude had never won her many close acquaintances over the years. But there was hardly a chance that Mary Jane would come over at night. The eighty-year-old woman had hardly gone anywhere in the last year since her husband, Ralph, died. Frequently suffering from arthritis, she could barely get around. She had no family, so Kate and her mother looked in on her from time to time. Kate did all of the elderly lady's shopping and tidied up her house on the weekends. Her mother said she had all she could do herself just taking care of their own house.

Kate made a reply to appease her mother. "If Mary Jane comes, you can answer the door."

Her mother snorted again and Kate quickly closed the door behind her.

* * *

Jordan was only semi-pleased with the outcome of the town meeting. It looked as though Johnson Enterprise would have to make a few more concessions.

Some, such as the street landscaping up and down the avenue where the mall was to be located, had already been discussed between Anthony, himself and the other investors and were to be executed anyway. The playground and park the residents wanted the company to help build in the neighborhood was a minor demand. He knew Anthony would gladly supply the materials, and a number of the crew would be willing to donate their labor on weekends for the project. The only problem would be location. No one had offered to contribute land.

The one thing he could not agree to however, was the thing the group who owned businesses directly across from the mall were most adamant about--their request of a promise of no competition.

Since their establishments consisted of such a varied representation, the mall would be hard pressed to conform to such an agreement. However, he did concede to take their concerns before the board of investors and see if some kind of compromise could be worked out.

The meeting had drained him but hadn't spoiled his appetite. Jordan was famished.

He picked a cozy restaurant not far from his bungalow. He loved the spicy flavor of Italian food and he hoped he would not be disappointed with the cuisine offered here at Enrico's. After being seated, Jordan looked around the room and spotted the spokesman for the community, who had presented their demands at the meeting, sitting a few tables away. Artimus Fraser had been the most outspoken citizen about the no competition clause.

Jordan was about to go over and speak to him when a pretty little brunette stepped up with a menu and a glass of water. She practically drooled in a country-hillbilly accent, "Hi. My name is Barbara and I'm your server tonight. What can I get you, sugar?"

Jordan grinned at her and winked. He was used to this kind of flirtation. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, the spaghetti and meatballs is the only thing in the kitchen that Enrico hasn't burned tonight. You see, his wife took off with the dishwasher and he's been a little distracted. Y'all know how these temperamental Italians are." She emphasized the "I" in Italian. "She'll come back as usual in a few days, so I don't know why he's fretting so."

Jordan's curiosity was piqued. "You mean she does this kind of thing all the time?"

"Yeah, well. Y'all know how it is. She wanted to spend some time with someone who understood her language."

"Her language?"

Barbara smiled. "You know...pillow talk."

Jordan laughed. He was amused by his gullibility in falling for that old joke. He knew she was waiting for him to ask if she'd be interested in some pillow talk, since he was pretty fluent in it himself. But for some reason, tonight he didn't feel like playing the game.

"Well, Barbara," he spoke her name as if they were old friends...or lovers, "I guess I'll settle for the spaghetti. And bring me a draft beer, please."

Barbara sighed. "I don't suppose y'all would be interested in some desert?"

"Enrico didn't burn the desert either?"

"Well, sure he did, but I left a cherry cobbler warming at my place this afternoon. I get off around ten, if you're interested."

This was the perfect opportunity for him to get rid of all that sexual tension that had built up in him since his encounter with soft and sexy Louis-the-hairdresser this afternoon. He should jump at it.

He'd almost decided to accept Barbara's offer, when he saw Artimus stand to greet someone. The short strawberry blonde's back was turned to Jordan, but she looked very familiar. He watched as she stood on tiptoes and hugged the community leader. When she turned to be seated in the chair that Artimus held out for her, Jordan knew why she looked familiar. It was none other than the shearing-shark from the beauty shop--Carlton's fiancée.

Well, so much for true love, Jordan thought. Poor Carlton was off on an endeavor that would help secure their future together and here his fiancée sat at an intimate candlelit table with another man. The two-timing little...

"Well...?" Barbara prodded.

"Huh? Oh, just the spaghetti will be fine." He'd lost his appetite even for that all of a sudden.

Barbara sulked at his sudden inattention. "Whatever you say, sugar." She picked up the menu and flounced off in a huff.

* * *

Artimus reached over and squeezed Kate's hand. "You look tired, honey. The old lady giving you a hard time?"

Kate smiled. Her brother's concern, she knew, was genuine. "I'm fine. Just been in a slight rush today. Had to work late. You shouldn't call Mother that, Artie."

He grunted. "I know. I just can't help but resent the way she takes advantage of you. You need to get away from her, Kate. You're going to wind up just like her if you don't."

"Artie, please. She's your mother, too, for God's sake. She can't help the way she is."

"Don't be so naive. She could help it. She doesn't want to change. I'm just glad Nan and I moved out before she completely ruined our marriage."

Grateful for a chance to change the subject, Kate asked. "How is Nancy?"

"Fat and sassy."

"With good reason, being eight months pregnant."

"Yeah, well...she's even more beautiful now. I keep telling her that but she says she feels ugly and useless. Her feet have been swelling so she has to stay off them more now, and you know how she hates to let the house go."

"Maybe I could come over Saturday and help out."

Artimus dropped his fork. "You do and I'll kick your butt three ways to Sunday. You have enough to do, taking care of Mom. And if I know you, you're still cleaning up for old lady Smith on the weekend."

"Really, Artie. Mary is hardly any trouble at all to clean up after, and I just bring her dirty clothes over to throw in with ours. It takes very little of my time."

Artie smiled. "My God, Kate, what are you vying for, sainthood?"

Kate blinked back the burning sensation behind her eyelids. She had not been a saint a few years ago. No one's feelings but her own had mattered to her at that time.

"I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to talk so sharp. I know you mean well. But you can't take on the problems of the whole world. Besides, I don't mind pitching in and doing the housework and laundry myself."

Kate looked at him astonished. "You? Mr. Macho who's favorite saying when asked to dry a dish or pick up a dirty sock out of your own bedroom was, 'that's a woman's job. Three women in the house should be able to take care of those simple chores. I've got to go practice for the big game tonight'."

He faked a chagrined look. "I wasn't that bad."

"No?" She laughed. "As I remember, your last words before leaving the house for football practice were, 'Nell, don't forget to have my uniform washed before Friday's game'. And of course if our older sister didn't do it for you, I would." She wrinkled up her nose at him and chided. "Spoiled brat."

"I'm sure you're exaggerating," he said, but he laughed at the shared memory.

* * *

Jordan sat sipping his second beer. His meal had been just so-so. Apparently Enrico had made a new batch of spaghetti before they got around to serving him, so he'd gotten a helping of burnt-melancholy-sauce over sticky noodles. But the beer took the edge off the dry pasta. It didn't, however, take the edge off his growing animosity for the young woman sitting at the table with Artimus Fraser. A feeling of resentment began to surge to the surface as he watched their intimate exchange of touching and laughing.

Carlton Ravens was a good man. He didn't deserve this kind of treatment. Poor Carlton. Well, one more beer. If they continued with their little tryst much longer, he would be forced to intervene, on his friend's behalf, of course. He heard them laughing again. That did it.

Artie looked up at the man casting a shadow over the table. A surprised look on his face, he stood and they shook hands. In spite of the current of animosity at the meeting they'd gotten on a first name basis. "Hello, Jordan."

Kate had drunk two glasses of wine, and since she hardly ever indulged, she was feeling in high spirits. She grinned mischievously as she scanned her handiwork.

"I'd like you to meet--"

"We've met," Jordan snapped before he could finish.

Jordan didn't miss the narrowing of Frazer's eyes with a discrete warning. He could hardly blame him. He knew his rude voice did not meet the profile of the man he'd betrayed at the meeting earlier.

The woman with Frazer gave Jordan a dazzling smile that made his heart do a few crazy little jigs. "I'd like to talk to you a moment. In private," he added, then reached down and practically lifted her from the chair.

"Now just a minute," Artimus objected.

Jordan scowled, ready to stand his ground, but Kate put her hand against the man's arm and said, "It's okay, Artie."

Kate turned back to Jordan. She'd never heard Louise mention her fiancé's last name. So it was Jordan. "Mr. Jordan probably wants to get back his fifty bucks. I'm sorry, sir, I've already spent the money on this lovely dinner we just had," she fibbed.

What a joke, she spent his money to entertain a lover, Jordan thought. "I don't want the damned money back."

That settled, Kate plopped back down in her chair.

Artie lifted his eyebrows. This was getting interesting, he thought. He didn't know what was going on between these two, but he'd have to be blind to miss the sizzle of tension between them. Artie had been trying to get his sister to have some kind of a relationship with a man for the past three years. Ever since that bastard she'd been married to left her bruised body on Artie's doorstep. If any man ever hurt her like that again Artie would kill him. No matter how much his wife and Kate pleaded with him not to. If he could have found Drew that night, he was sure death or at the very least a beating to top the one the man had given Kate, would have been Andrew Wentworth's fate.

"What money?" Artie demanded. If Kate owed Jordan money, he would make it good himself.

Jordan watched as the girl directed her enchanting smile at Artie.

"Forget the money." Jordan's patience wore thin.

She ignored him and spoke to Artie. "Mr. Jordan was so thrilled with the haircut I gave him this afternoon that he left an exceptionally large tip."

She flashed those even white teeth again. Artie glanced at Jordan's closely cropped hair and coughed. Jordan knew it was a badly disguised laugh.

That was the last straw. He lifted Miss Scissor-Fingers by the upper arm to her feet a second time. Then he gripped her hand and practically dragged her along behind him.

Artie grabbed her other hand and tugged her back. "Look Jordan, she's not going anywhere until you explain what this is all about."

Jordan looked from Artie to Carlton's fiancée. He could slug him and drag her along forcefully, but he liked Artimus and this really wasn't his fault. He probably didn't even know about Carlton, Jordan thought. He smiled congenially. Well, if that was the case, he knew one way to make her come along willingly. "It's about a mutual friend." He emphasized the word friend and gave her a coaxing smile.

The smile had an unusual effect on Kate. She felt as if a ton of hot lava had just been poured over her, running in rivulets down between her breast all the way to...Uh, oh.

She'd better go with him, she decided, and find out what this was all about. Then get away from him as quickly as possible. A friend. Could he be talking about Louise? Had something happened to her? She turned to her brother. "It's okay, Artie. I'll see what he wants and be right back."

"I'll give you ten minutes," Artie informed them. He was dying to know what was going on. But if his sister had finally found a man she was interested in, he would give it a chance to work out. He wouldn't let his business difficulties with the man interfere with his sister's happiness. He found he respected Jordan Wilkins in spite of his affiliation with the developers of the mall project.

Jordan made a snorting sound as he turned and tugged her along. The bewitching creature had Artimus wrapped around her little finger from the looks of it. She must have twitched that cute little behind at him, too. The thought made him furious.

Before they reached the front door, Barbara, the waitress, stopped Jordan with a hand on his other arm. "What about that desert, sugar?"

Before he could give her an answer Kate jerked his other arm and became the leader out the door. "I don't have all night, Mr. Jordan."

Jordan gave Barbara an apologetic look and replied, "Maybe later."

Kate continued tugging on his hand until they reached the alley beside the restaurant. Then she turned and sneered, "Okay let's hear what you have to say. What about our friend?"

Agitated and unsure of how to go about chastising her for two-timing Carlton, Jordan began pacing back and forth. His anger began to renew itself when he remembered the way she was brandishing her charms on Artimus a few moments ago. Suddenly he stopped just inches away from her and pointed his finger in her face. "How can you be so disloyal to your man?"

"What?" Her man. She mouthed the words.

"Don't act so innocent. He's a good, honest hard worker who happens to think the sun rises and sets in you. And what does he get in return? You out carousing around behind his back."

Could he be talking about Drew. She hadn't seen her ex-husband in months and months. Not since that last summer when he'd come to beg her to go back with him. The day she had slapped the divorce papers in his hand and told him to get lost. Which she thought thankfully he had done until now.

And as far as being good and honest, that was a laugh. Drew Wentworth was a hard worker, maybe. He did everything hard. Hard work. Hard liquor. Hard gambling. She had even put up with that, until the other. The one thing that no woman could tolerate; other women and hard fists. It was just like him to have a friend keep an eye on her.

Obviously Drew did not tell Mr. Jordan about her brother or he would not be hounding her now. She hadn't had a date with anyone since she and Drew separated three years ago. Not because she felt any loyalty to Drew. She just hadn't had the desire to spend any time with the opposite sex.

The fact that Drew was having her watched made Kate seethe with anger. And of all people, by Louise's boyfriend. Who, by the way, did not have the right to be throwing stones. If she were not mistaken about the little interplay between him and the waitress inside--and from the twinkling sultry looks exchanged, she was sure she wasn't--he was the one guilty of infidelity. For some reason this made her even more upset than the fact that Drew was having her followed.

Kate punched him in the chest with her finger.

Stunned by her attack, Jordan took an awkward step backward.

"You of all people have no right to point an accusing finger at me. What was going on between you and Little-Miss-Dessert-Later? I'll bet she wasn't talking about the kind served on a dish." She jabbed him again.

For a moment he was on the verge of apologizing. Until he realized he didn't have anything to feel guilty about. He was free to make accusations of that sort. She wasn't!

He grabbed the hand of the finger that had left a painful spot on his chest. Gripping her fingers as she tried to pull them from his hand, he realized something was missing he hadn't noticed before. "You're not even wearing your ring."

Obviously she wouldn't want Artimus to know she was engaged. From Jordan's impressions of Artie, he didn't think that the man would knowingly infringe on another man's territory.

"Of course, I'm not wearing my ring." She jerked her hand away, and backed up, rubbing the sting from her fingers where he'd held them too tightly.

Glaring, silently, he began walking toward her. She slowly edged away until she came in contact with the concrete block wall. When Jordan raised a hand to place on the wall beside her head, she flinched.

Her reaction shocked and disturbed him at the same time. Had he been that forceful? He'd never struck a woman in his life. Had someone hurt her before? Surely not Carlton.

He'd become good friends with his foreman and usually he wasn't that wrong about a person. Seeing the momentary look of fear in her beautiful eyes inspired an emotion of remorse that he might be the cause of it.

Jordan gently laid the hand that he'd extended on her shoulder. Bringing the other one up, he brushed a loose strand of her hair back around her ears. "I would never hurt you," he spoke softly.

His face was mere inches from hers. Only a fraction closer and he would be able to feel those soft pink lips that had him in such a fever this afternoon. But he wouldn't make that kind of move. He'd frightened her, and he didn't like the feeling that gave him.

Kate's hand pressed upon his chest and she could feel the accelerated thudding of his heart. She had the urge to massage it to calm it down, but she was frozen into place by those hypnotic golden-brown eyes. They seemed to be looking into her very soul. Saying things to her. Kiss me, kiss me. Her lips parted and she rose the slight distance to meet his.

Jordan had never tasted anything as sweet or alluring. Her lips were just the appetizer, however, as his tongue slipped past them seeking the first course. He was ravenous. He plunged and sought the depths of her honeyed mouth until they both became breathless and came up for air. Each drew short rasping breaths and leaned forward, anxious for another taste. Just as Jordan delved his fingers through the silky strands of her hair and tugged her head into place to resume his repast, a voice interrupted.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Chapter Three

When Jordan stepped back, the sweet bundle that he reminded himself once again belonged to Carlton, dropped to her knees. He thought at first she'd lost her balance and fallen. He started to reach down and help her up.

"Hi, Artie," she said. "I'll just be a minute. I seemed to have lost one of my combs."

Realizing the reason for her posture, Jordan squatted beside her and began a sincere search for the missing hair ornament. Her previously swept back hair now obscured her face as she directed her attention upon the ground.

While they crawled around trying to spot the missing article, Jordan noticed Artimus walk to the opposite side of the alley and stoop down to pick something off the ground. A grin spread across his face. He held up the comb and said, "Could this be what you're looking for?"

"Oh, my. I wonder how it got over there?"

"We were walking around a bit. Remember?" Jordan offered and noted a red flush creep up her face.

"Oh, yes. We were walking about while we were talking," she agreed in a nervous tone.

Artie raised an eyebrow. Jordan wondered why the man wasn't jealous, when it was obvious from Louise's swollen lips, they'd been kissing. If it'd been his date--

"We'd better go, sis, Nan will be worried if I'm too late."

Sis? Had Jordan heard right?

"Okay, Artie. It was nice talking to you, Mr. Jordan." She held out her hand. Instead of shaking it, Jordan clutched it tightly in his oversized palm. He looked at her feeling like a jerk. "Your brother?"

Kate felt a blush creep up her cheeks again. This time it was because she felt guilty for not setting him straight in the beginning. If she had, maybe the events that followed would never have happened. Maybe then she wouldn't have been left with the burden of guilt for betraying a friend by kissing her fiancé. But the guilt was not hers alone to bear, she thought. He shouldn't have been stalking her for her ex-husband. Drew had no claim on her anymore.

"Yes, my brother," she snapped. "Now you can report to your friend that I'm true blue."

He squeezed her hand. "Now we both know that isn't so, don't we?"

Kate knew he wasn't asking a question, just stating a fact. She'd not been loyal to her friend Louise. She'd practically thrown herself into the arms of her friend's fiancé. But he was even more guilty since he'd seduced her to start with, and what about that waitress? She jerked her hand away from his and said with derision, "Yes, indeed. We both know better, don't we?" She turned and strode away, not waiting to listen to Artie bid him goodbye.

* * *

The next morning, Jordan got up slowly from the couch. His head pounded from consuming too much beer the night before. Still smarting from his clash with Carlton's smart-mouthed fiancée, after leaving the restaurant, he'd stopped at the store for a six-pack. He'd downed all six beers, then went out like a light on the couch, watching a late show on the television. He hadn't drunk that much since that night over four years ago when Micah, Emma and himself had celebrated his twenty-fourth birthday. He grinned at the memory.

That was the night he realized that he didn't have a chance with Emma. It was plain to see she was already head over heels in love with his brother. She'd proved to be better suited as a sister to him than a sweetheart. She'd also turned out to be the best friend he'd ever had.

Even now she could read his moods and respond to them better than anyone else he'd ever known. Of course, she was the first person he'd ever been able to confide in. Oh, he knew he could talk to his brother, Micah or his father, Anthony, if he wanted to take the initiative to do so. But Emma inspired his confidence. He felt comfortable around her and knew no matter what they discussed, if he asked her to she wouldn't even tell her husband what he'd said. That was probably why he'd envisioned himself in love with her.

He smiled again at the memory of the morning after the celebration, when he was so hung over he could hardly stand. He'd confessed his love for Emma to Micah that morning, and Micah showed his appreciation of those feelings by beating the snot out of him.

Emma and Micah shared a kind of engrossing, enduring passionate love that often made Jordan envious. Theirs was a fairy-tale kind of romance that Jordan had never believed in before. The all-consuming need those two had for each other was uncommon indeed. He wondered how that must feel, to need someone so much that you could never get him or her out of your mind. If you weren't with them, you were thinking about them.

The picture of a brassy little strawberry blond with green eyes and great body danced before his eyes. He shook his head to clear the image. He didn't want to think anymore about the sweet suction-cup lips that had him puckering up all night in his dreams. He felt a tightening of his lower anatomy and swore.

What he needed was a good brisk run on the beach to clear his head. He tugged on his shorts and running shoes and hurried out the back door. He paused at the top step of his bungalow that led down to the deserted beach and took a deep breath.

This was one of the great advantages of living on the seashore, he thought. He could get up early and take a solitary run with no spectators. The only people he'd encountered so far at this time of the morning were a couple of other runners and a few fishermen who paid him very little heed. Being a loner of sorts, and liking his privacy, that suited Jordan just fine.

Taking another deep breath and exhaling slowly, he stretched his muscles, bending and twisting to warm up before he started. In the distance the sun glinted off a long pigtail swinging down the back of what was obviously one of the female species running along the shoreline. He soon caught up with her and the woman turned just as he drew close.

"Good morning," she panted breathlessly, and gave him her usual sultry look.

"Good morning, Mrs. Webster," he replied, trying not to sound disappointed. Elena Webster was staying in the bungalow next to his. She'd let him know several times that she was available.

He shot on past her to keep from having to converse any further. He didn't feel like being seduced so early in the morning. Hell, what was the matter with him lately? First he turned down Barbara the waitress and now Elena Webster. Of course, he'd never made a habit of sleeping with married women. Engaged ones either for that matter, he thought. Louise's crystal green-eyed image quickly came to mind. Would he? He shook his head and ran faster.

If the runner had been who he first thought it was, what were his intentions? Certainly not seduction. Absolutely not. He closed his eyes and remembered Louise's soft body pressed against him, her warm moist lips clinging to his. Damn. He cranked up his speed another notch.

* * *

Kate walked down the damp wooden steps that led from the parking area to the deserted beach. One of her favorite times of the day to be on the beach was early morning. The other time was late afternoon, just at sundown. Sunsets were a spectacular sight on the gulf. The only comparable sight she knew of were sunrises on the Atlantic. Although her recollection of those were marred by the last one she'd gone down to the Jacksonville beach to witness. It was a day that would be forever ingrained in her mind.

She'd never forget the two bodies behind the sand dune as she'd stepped to the top of it on her early morning walk. She'd been about to retreat and give the lover's back their privacy when she took a second glance at the back of the man who was thrusting against the pretty dark haired woman beneath him. She'd quickly averted her eyes thinking she must be mistaken. Then she heard the familiar voice speak to the woman. "God, baby, this is good, better than anything that frigid bitch I'm married to has ever given me."

Then she knew why Drew hadn't come home the night before.

Funny, Kate thought, how calm she'd felt when the words flowed past her lips that warm spring morning. The beaches were blessedly deserted there as well. Anyone watching the scene would have thought she was an unconcerned spectator. She neither showed nor felt any emotion as she calmly voiced her sentiments.

"Don't worry, Drew, you're never going to have to suffer the frigid bitch's embraces again." Then she turned and walked the four long blocks back to their apartment.

When Drew came in a few minutes behind her, she already had her bags half packed. She didn't have much. Drew had bought her very few clothes in the three years they'd been married. The only thing that stuck in her craw was the fact that she had to ask him for money for bus fare back to Brantley Shores. As much as she'd dreaded it, she would have to go back home to her mother. It would just be another of Kate's continuing string of failures in Lilia's eyes. But even that had been preferable to remaining with Drew.

He'd abused her unmercifully that morning. It'd taken her a long time afterwards to even remember all the details of what happened, and even now she tried not to think about it too much.

Drew hadn't understood her serene facade. He'd insisted it was the first time he'd been unfaithful. Kate knew it was only the first time she'd caught him. All the other times she'd confronted him with evidence or suspicions, he'd been able to convince her it was just her jealous imagination.

"Look, honey, it's not what it looked like--"

"Not...not what it looked like," she cut him off. "My God, Drew what were you doing to that poor woman, giving her ass-to-ass resuscitation?"

She'd stopped packing suddenly and laughed at her own crude joke. She couldn't quit laughing. The joke was on her.

Drew tried to stop her hysterics in his usual way of dealing with her when she irritated him. He backhanded her across the face, sending her sailing across the bed. Her ribs, caught by the side of the hard, old-fashioned suitcase, pulsated with pain, temporarily cutting off her breath as well as her laughter. The mirth returned however, when she opened her eyes and caught the momentary sight of fear in Drew's face.

"Uh-oh, you didn't kill me this time, Drew." She'd wagged her finger at him mockingly. "Better try again." She couldn't seem to stop the taunts that she'd known without a doubt would only bring her more abuse. She welcomed the physical pain.

It was much preferable to the other--the agony of having the man she'd thought she loved deceive her in the worst kind of way. The pain of the loss of their baby only added to her torment--the baby that had caused them to get married in the first place. She knew Drew had felt trapped by it, but what choice did she have? Maybe it was her fault that he was the way he was. Maybe it was her fault that he sought out other women. Yes, she wanted physical pain, needed it to block out her guilt. Drew didn't disappoint her.

He'd dove on top of her, tearing her clothes from her body. She'd kept laughing. Nothing made her stop. Each rip of her clothing made her smile. Even the painful entrance of him into her dry body brought a cackle of mirth. With each grunt he'd made, each hard grinding thrust of his body, she incited him to further abuse, which he'd given mercilessly.

She hadn't understood then why she'd reacted so weirdly. The psychiatrist Artie took her to later had explained that she'd suffered a hysterical episode during an uncontrollable and unacceptable situation. It was her way of escaping the harsh pain and reality she couldn't bear to face at the time.

People react to stressful situations in different ways, he'd said. When being raped, some women, he explained, block out the events with a numbing withdrawal as though it were happening to someone else. Others fight their attacker and usually get beaten worse for the attempt.

She'd not fought Drew that morning, so she didn't know how much worse she could have been beaten. Before Drew finished, her face was swollen so tight she could barely see through the tiny slits left for her eyes. Drew's pressing weight and thrusting did nothing to alleviate the distress of the two cracked ribs. She hadn't felt much pain at the time. Drew stared at her for a long time afterwards. The sharp twinge in her left side brought her to her knees as she slid off the bed.

He'd tossed some clothes at her he'd pulled from the suitcase. "Get dressed, I'm taking you home. I don't ever want to see your ugly face again, so don't think you can change your mind later and come back."

Just like that. He was taking her home. Home. She'd never felt like she had a home. Not with Drew, not with her mother. But it would be a place to stay until she could figure out what she was going to do. Somehow she'd managed to get dressed. When she looked in the mirror, another bark of laughter escaped her throat. She really was ugly.

The gentle waves washing over her feet brought Kate back to the present. She stared out across the glistening waters of the Gulf of Mexico. As the cool gulf waters caressed her ankles, the tears she'd been unable to shed then now flowed freely.

* * *

Jordan panted hard. He'd run further than usual today, and the only way he was able to keep up the pace on the return trip was to stare down at the shadow he was trying to keep up with. He glided back and forth in the wet sand near the surf's edge. He'd learned real fast that you couldn't run very far in the soft ankle deep sand further up on the shore.

That was the basic difference in the beaches along the State's panhandle and the more familiar ones he'd been used to on the east coast of Florida. The beach patrol didn't have too much concern about cars driving on this section of the beach. Anyone trying it without four-wheel drive would be calling a wrecker to pull them out.

He moved into the edge of the water, letting the splash of moisture cool his sweaty body. This was a good run. At least he would be too exhausted to get another physical erection from the fantasies that kept playing through his head about his friend's lover. He'd no more than formed the thought than he slammed into an immobile object blocking his path.

The impact sent the sprawling woman face down into the salty warm surf. Jordan barely avoided landing on top of her by bracing himself on his forearms. He boosted himself up and looked into the sputtering face of the one who'd been the subject of his recent fantasies. Even coughing and gagging with a face full of straggly wet hair, she was beautiful. He lowered his eyes to the wet clinging T-shirt that outlined her full breasts. He attributed the pebbling of her nipples to the cool plunge into the gulf water.

She gasped and crossed her arms in front of her.

"Are you okay?"

"What do you think? You clumsy oaf." She coughed again, unveiling those precious globes to his view once more when reflex caused her to cover her mouth. "Why don't you watch where you're going? Or do you always make it a habit of accosting women everywhere you go?"

"Only the pretty ones." Jordan grinned. He stood and leaned forward to offer her his hand. "Here, let me help you."

She held out her left hand for his assistance. He hadn't noticed the other hand cupped into the remnants of the wave that washed over her body. As he pulled her upright she splashed his face with a salty spray.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments then blinked several times as if trying to refocus. His eyes burned from the briny assault.

"So, you like playing, huh?"

She began a backward retreat further into the surf. "I-I'm sorry," she sputtered, but she didn't appear too sorry since she was wearing a mile-wide grin.

He stalked her playfully until she was knee deep in the water. "You don't look sorry."

"Well...uh, looks can be deceiving, you know." She gave a nervous laugh and looked around with an apprehensive expression. Suddenly she didn't seem so amused.

Jordan noted the change in her demeanor and wondered what caused it. Was she afraid of the water? A lot of people had phobias about the sea currents, sharks, and other unknowns of the Gulf. He didn't want to distress her further so he decided to forego the dunking he'd intended to give her.

She clung to him when he caught her beneath the legs and around the waist as he lifted her from the water. She held on for dear life, as if expecting at any moment to be dropped back into the cold water. She looked perplexed when instead he carried her to shore. When he didn't immediately put her down, she didn't seem to object.

It felt much too good to hold her. He savored the feel of her breast through the damp material pressing against his bare chest. He wondered if she realized she was stroking the bristly too-short hair at the nape of his neck with her thumb even though the rest of her fingers were clasped together tightly.

His hand slid up her thigh toward her hip as he slowly let her body glide down his. He felt a charge of electricity and barely suppressed the urge to caress her. She must have experienced a similar feeling for her knees buckled when her toes finally touched the sand. He caught her in his arms.

They stared at each other for several long moments. With her head tilted back and her lips barely inches from his, Jordan was tempted to kiss her again. It would be a terrible mistake, he thought, even as he leaned closer. There was no one within view on the deserted beach and even if someone came along to interrupt he was much too close to his bungalow, too close to privacy, to stop. He recognized the answering heat of passion reflected in her eyes. What the hell.

She closed her eyes and opened her lips to his, and whispered, "Carlton."

He swore and pushed her away. Her eyes snapped open and she blushed profusely.

Damn. Why did she have to think of her boyfriend now? Hell, Jordan thought, he should be glad she did. He chastised himself for almost giving in to such impulsive behavior a second time. Her thinking of her fiancé at a time like this must surely be some kind of omen. Jordan had forgotten about Carlton for those few moments. Another minute and he wouldn't have given a damn even if he had remembered. His own overwhelming guilt made him apologize.

"Look, I'm sorry."

"You don't look sorry," Kate repeated his earlier reply. And her grin relieved their uneasiness as well as her guilt for letting the situation reach the level of intimacy that it had. This was her friend's fiancé, and she had practically let herself be seduced by him. Again! She felt guilty for the way her body still craved contact with his.

At first, when he'd cornered her in the water, she'd been a bit apprehensive, after she laughed at him and remembered what happened the last time she'd laughed at a man. But he'd swept her up and carried her to shore with such gentle care, she'd felt silly for her concern. Her rational side told her very few men were like her ex-husband.

The heat of this man's strong arms crushing her against the golden hair-covered muscles on his chest lingered. Her eyes drifted to that area, committing each bulge and swirl to memory. Then they lifted to memorize the firm, sensual lips that she even now longed to taste again. His muffled groan made her realize what she was doing. She stepped back, afraid he might touch her again and knowing she might not be able to resist if he did.

She cleared her throat. "Well...I-I guess I'd better get going. I'll be late for work as it is, since I'll have to go back home now to change."

He stared down at the shorts and T-shirt she was wearing and she answered his unasked question.

"I always bring the clothes to change into at work. I like to take a walk on the beach before going in. Kind of clears my head for the day." She knew she was chattering. But she wanted, needed something to say while she prolonged her departure as long as possible.

She wanted to look at him some more. Just look. Surely there couldn't be any harm in that. Her eyes hadn't gotten a chance to get a good peek at his powerful thighs or his taut buttocks. She remembered how they rippled beneath his cotton twill pants when she'd gotten a glimpse of his backside as she'd trailed him toward the restaurant's exit the night before. He wasn't giving her any excuses to linger, however, as he just continued to stare at her in silence.

"Well...goodbye." She started to turn and leave.

"If you have your clothes with you, why are you going back home this morning?"

She grinned at him and he followed her glance down to her wet clothes. The reason was obvious, she thought. She eyed the row of public showers down the beach. She could rinse off there but she knew from experience, the briny feeling would remain without a thorough scrubbing.

"I need a shower with soap and water. I'll probably lose a couple of clients because of the delay, but I don't think I'll be able to work all day with the sticky feeling that salt water leaves on the skin." When he made no further response, she turned to leave again, lifting her fingers in a little wave. "Well, see you around."

"You can use my shower." The words tumbled out before Jordan could catch himself. He must be crazy. He could hardly keep his hands off of her as it was and to have her in his house, in his shower, naked...he must be crazy. But this knowledge did not make him retract the words. Instead he rationalized his behavior. "It's my fault you got all wet. It's only fair to offer you my shower."

She stared at him as though trying to decide if his offer were sincere, or if he had any ulterior motives. Noting her hesitation he continued, "I live up there." He pointed to the row of bungalows up the steep slope from where they stood. "It's up to you, of course, but you won't have to be late for work." He grinned. "Those customers you miss might be big tippers like me."

The redness crept into her cheeks again. "I didn't know you lived on the beach."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I think your suggestion is quite improper." She sounded like an offended Victorian maid and he responded with a hearty laugh.

"Good day, Mr. Jordan." Giving him a haughty look, Kate stomped away from him as best as anyone could stomp through ankle deep sand. She'd taken only a few steps before his hand caught her arm, stopping her.

Jordan tried desperately to control his mirth. She was so damned cute. No doubt she could easily play an actress in an 18th Century play with the words and expressions that seemed to come from her so flawlessly. Even he was almost convinced of her innocence.

"Look, it doesn't make sense for you to drive all the way back home when I have a perfectly good shower you can use. You won't be late. Besides," Jordan continued, "even if I do look like the big bad wolf, I haven't had an appetite for the little red riding hood type for quite some time."

He noticed a slight twitch of her lips and thought a little more persuading and she'd soon be standing naked in his shower. He silently groaned. Was he losing his freaking mind? Apparently, yes. "I promise I don't have any two way mirrors and you can drape a towel over the key hole to the bathroom to assure your privacy."

He knew he'd convinced her when her lips turned up into a full-fledged smile, exposing a perfectly straight row of pearly white teeth, and her head fell back as she let out a beautiful trill of uninhibited laughter.

Taking her good humor for acquiescence, he took her hand and led her up the steep row of plank steps that led to the back of his bungalow.

They moved quickly through the screened back porch that stretched along the full width of the house. She shivered as they stepped into the cool air-conditioned kitchen and he quickly led her along the hallway through the only bedroom and on into the large bathroom. He watched her eyes widen at the combination bathtub-spa in the corner. It had been a surprise to him too, when he first viewed the amenity in the small bungalow.

It was one of the things besides the beach side location that had enticed Jordan to rent here. Anthony had scoffed at him for not taking more elaborate lodging. He remembered his father's argument.

"For God's sake, son, the company is picking up the tab anyway and you deserve better. There's a much nicer condominium just up the street. Why don't you check it out? I'm thinking about buying one as a vacation retreat and you could get the feel of the place and give me your opinion."

Jordan got his way in the end. He didn't want elaborate, exclusive quarters. Until he met his father four years ago, he had always resided in very moderate surroundings.

Moderate. Hell, to tell the truth, at times, he'd lived in down right slums. That was all his stepfather could afford most of the time, since he often would go for months at a time without working.

Those times were bad. His stepfather drank a lot, and belittled Jordan most of the time, always letting him know what an unworthy burden he was on him. What a sorry excuse of a family he came from; a family that wouldn't even claim him as his own.

Jordan refrained from reminding Bradford that his precious Isobelle, Jordan's mother, had not wanted Jordan either.

Without asking, Jordan readied the hot tub instead of the shower. After adjusting the faucet until the water temperature felt right on his hand, Jordan walked into the bedroom and came back with his maroon velour robe. He handed her the robe and turned on the jets in the tub. "Give me your keys and I'll go get your clothes."

Kate dug into her tight wet pockets and retrieved the keys. After she instructed him on how to find and identify her old faded red Accord, he left her to peel out of the sticky clothes and soak in the warm, pulsing water. It would be heaven if he could join her.

Fifteen minutes later, Jordan slammed another cabinet door closed and cursed. "What did I do with those coffee filters?" he mumbled to himself as he opened yet another cabinet to search. "Filters...filters...filters," he chanted as if they would come running like the cat that sauntered over to his side.

Her furry tail rubbed across his lower back and then slithered against his leg as he squatted down to examine a bottom cabinet.

"What do you want, Puss?" He stroked the pet that'd been waiting by the front door when he'd returned with his guest's car.

He had inadvertently adopted the ugly animal when he'd made the mistake of feeding her. He'd come home one evening and found the half starved creature sitting on his doorsteps. "I guess you're hungry, as usual, aren't you, Puss." The cat purred when he ran his hand down her back and licked his hand. He wondered if the woman in his bath would respond with such relaxed appreciation. He could almost visualize moist droplets of water cascading down her body as she stood to exit her bath. One drawback to the bungalow at a time like this was the thin walls.

He remembered then why he'd been so determined to make a pot of coffee. It was a means of keeping busy and getting his mind off of the goings on in the other room. He opened the cabinet under the sink to get the bag of Tender Vittles. "Ah...ha." He pulled out the box of coffee filters along with the cat food.

After putting the coffee on to brew, he picked up Puss along with her bowl and stepped out to the safety of the porch to await Louise and the coffee. At least out here he wouldn't be able to hear the sounds of her sloshing around in there, sounds that only intensified the erotic pictures that kept flickering though his mind.

Kate found her clothes draped neatly across Carlton's bed. The only problem was the fact that she had no dry underwear. Well, so what? Half the girls down at the beauty shop went without bras most of the time. The peasant blouse that she was wearing today would look better without a bra anyway. At least without one she could wear it off the shoulders the way she'd seen gypsy women do in all the old movies. Jodie might frown on her inhibition, but she didn't care. If the shop's air conditioning worked as poorly at keeping her cool as it had the day before at least she'd be comfortable.

Kate sat on the side of the bed and pulled on the sheer thigh high hose. Then she stood and pulled down the full gathered, ankle-length skirt. She turned and viewed her body in the mirror behind the bedroom door. Even though the garment clung in a graceful drape around her hips as she spun around, the material was thick enough she didn't think that anyone would be able to tell that she didn't have any panties on.

Rolling her wet clothes up tightly, she went to test her theory on the first person who would be seeing her that way. She left the towel bundled tightly around her hair.

Kate eyed his hairbrush lying on the dresser. Then shrugging her shoulders, she decided against using it without his permission. She'd forgotten to ask him to bring her purse in, which held her comb when he went to retrieve her clothes. She would just run her hands through her hair to untangle it, then comb and blow dry it when she got to the beauty shop. There she could blow dry it as well.

He looked up as she stepped out the back door onto the porch and she handed him a cup of black coffee. "I thought you probably didn't take cream and sugar."

"No, I don't." He grinned, as if pleased at her foresight. "Sit." He scooted to one end of the porch swing he was sitting in to make room.

Kate leaned over and stroked the cat sitting in his lap. "Poor kitty. What happened to her face."

"Don't know. Puss doesn't belong to me," he said. "She's a free spirit. She comes and goes as she pleases."

"Oh." Like him, she thought, wondering how Louise ever got him to propose to her.

Sitting down next to him on the swing, Kate surveyed the homey atmosphere of the area. On the other end of he porch was a set of white wicker patio furniture. Her eyes drifted out toward the gulf. She could almost picture early morning breakfasts at the glass top table while enjoying the panoramic view of soft sand and gently lapping waves.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes..." she hesitated slightly as she turned her head and looked into those captivating amber eyes which held a golden twinkle. His words reflected her very thoughts. "Yes, it's very nice," she almost sighed. It was a two-person swing and they were very close. Kate thought if she moved ever so slightly her thigh would brush against his. The temptation was great. Thankfully he broke the case of stupids that plagued her each time she came in breathing distance of him by getting up from the swing and going inside.

She started to unwind the towel from her hair and leave. No point in having an excuse to see him again by taking his towel. Running her hands through her hair to finger comb it, she stood to leave. Then the screen door from the kitchen squeaked as he came back out. He walked over to the chaise lounge and sat with his legs astraddle of it. Patting the section in front of him, he said, "Come over here."

"What?"

"Come over here and I'll comb your hair for you." He held up a comb, the one she had forbidden herself to use earlier.

Kate nervously ran her hand through the long tresses again. "Th-that's okay. I'll do it when I get to work."

She became fascinated with the twitch in his jaw as he gave the order again. "I said come over here."

She didn't like being bullied. She would not...

"I said come here." The twitch became a more rapid jerking motion as his teeth clenched tighter.

Shrugging her shoulders, she walked over and sat down where he indicated.

Her hair was a tangled mass, but he was gentle. Working the strands slowly, he was careful not to cause her any pain. It felt good. Kate was used to being the one to wash, cut, comb and coddle others. To have the roll reversed for a change made her feel pampered. She closed her eyes and released an unintended, audible sigh.

He chuckled.

Kate ignored it. She was enjoying it too much to care if he was making fun of her.

Jordan combed her hair long after it seemed necessary to continue. Occasionally he lifted the strands and let them sift through his fingers.

Just when Kate was being lulled into a lethargic state of trust, he swept her hair back and draped it across her right shoulder. She could feel his breath on her neck and felt the heat of his gaze on her naked shoulder. His hard legs tensed and his hard muscled thighs brushed against her hips. She froze. She should move.

His body felt warm on her thinly clad skin.

She didn't have any underwear on, for god's sake. She really should move.

She did try, but as the hot and tingly sensations began in unmentionable areas of her body, she began to melt into him instead. His arm slid underneath her breast, his warm breath continued to tease her shoulder.

She did move then.

Her head drifted back against his shoulder and her face turned to meet his firm yet soft lips.

God, she tastes good, Jordan thought. He licked at her lips with his tongue, tracing the outline of her teeth then urging her mouth to open for him. When it did, his tongue plunged and plundered.

She reacted to his touch tentatively at first. Then as their contact intensified she responded with more fervor, parrying and answering each venturous probe that brought with it a new plateau of pleasure. On and on the kiss lasted until Jordan finally gave in to the need to catch his breath. Just for a moment, and then his lips sought hers again.

"Carlton," she whispered against his lips, lips that never reached their destination. Her eyes snapped open as he lifted her to her feet.

"Damn." Did she have to keep mentioning the one name that was just as good as pouring ice water in his pants? Jordan stood away from her. "You'd better go."

She pressed trembling fingers over her lips. She looked so damned sexy with the lingering tinge of color on her well-kissed lips. Jordan cursed silently and the same pinkish color flooded her cheeks. He felt like a heel.

"We'll just forget this happened. We both know it shouldn't have happened." Jordan paced back and forth and spoke convincingly. More to try to persuade himself that not only shouldn't it have happened but he should regret it, which he didn't.

He stopped pacing and stared at her. Damn her. Why didn't she just leave? Why didn't she slap his face and stomp off? Blame him? Anything...anything except standing there looking so vulnerable and innocent. Hell, they both knew she wasn't innocent.

It was her fiancée she was betraying by letting Jordan do those things to her. Dammit, could he help it if he was just a typical hot-blooded all-American male? Knowing that was a flimsy excuse for his conduct made him all the more angry with himself. He swore and wished a thousand times over that he'd never met her. Even now he was having a tough time controlling his urge to reach for her again.

Why was he looking at her as if he hated her? Kate wondered. How quickly men were able to turn their feelings off and on. The creeps. He was engaged to Louise and yet he sat on his back porch seducing Louise's best friend. Well, maybe not best friend. But certainly her and Louise had developed camaraderie over the past few months. How many times had Louise confided to her about what a wonderful man she was engaged to? Ha! Poor Louise.

Kate valiantly fought off her own feelings of guilt and placed the blame squarely on the broad shoulders standing so enticingly in front of her. Her confidence restored, she could now leave with some dignity.

She straightened her shoulders and thrust out her chest, momentarily forgetting her lack of underwear that made her feel slightly indecent.

Ignoring his swearing as he began to pace again, she said, "You're absolutely right. And I'll thank you to keep your hands to yourself from now on." Her eyes glared with accusation.

"My hands were doing all right until you began rubbing your naked little backside against me." He conveniently forgot he was the one that initiated the rubbing to begin with.

"I-I am not naked," she sputtered her indignation but didn't deny the other. She simply couldn't seem to remember if he was right about that part.

"Almost." The devil was winkling in his eyes again and he gave her one of his teasing grins.

"That does it. If you think you can get away with putting the blame on me for what happened you've got another think coming, buster."

Jordan ducked but not in time to keep the towel she picked up and threw at him from catching him across the face. He pulled it down just in time to see the comb come flying his way. He didn't duck in time to miss it either. He cursed at the slight sting on his temple.

"That's another thing. Not only are you a low down two-timing scoundrel, but you can't seem to string two words together without inserting vulgarity."

Jordan rolled his eyes. She was reverting to her Victorian vocabulary again. This time he ducked in time to miss the coffee cup that went sailing past his head and shattered into the wall behind him. He almost laughed out loud at the look of incredulity on her face then.

"My God. Look what you made me do." She spoke the accusation in a breathy whisper. Before he had a chance to defend himself she slammed out the back screen door, ran down the steps and across the hot white sand.

"Wait!"

Kate ignored him and kept walking, once again finding it incredibly difficult to stomp through sand. The bellow of words from the porch doorway brought her to an abrupt halt.

"Your car is out front in my driveway."

She spun around, sending the soft sand flying around her legs. She ignored the feel of the gritty particles lodged between her sandal-clad toes as she tromped back toward him and stopped at the bottom of the steps. She placed her hands on her hips to help allay the subservient feeling of having to look up at his towering figure from the top step.

"My car is around front?" She gritted her teeth as she slowly spoke the words.

"That's what I said." He gloated.

"My purse is in my car."

It wasn't a question, though he answered it anyway. "Yep. I believe I saw it on the front seat."

"My comb is in my purse."

"You don't say?"

"If I'd had my comb, this whole thing could have been avoided."

"Think so?" He dared her to answer.

She couldn't. Kate wanted to believe it wouldn't have happened. But she couldn't deny, at least to herself, that she had enjoyed it. Instead of answering she tromped off again in the right direction to reach her car. Not through his house. She didn't want to ever set foot in his house again. She chose the path around the side yard.

Staring for a long moment after her disappearing figure as she rounded the corner of his house, Jordan expelled a long breath of air and went back inside. She was mad as hell, he thought. Anger was an emotion he could handle. Much safer than the other feelings she instilled in him, he thought.

He pulled off the T-shirt he'd put on after his run and discarded it on a kitchen chair. He now felt more heated from his encounter with the little hellion than he'd ever had from his one of his morning runs.

Hellion. Damn, she had him doing it now, talking like someone who lived in a prior century. He needed a bath. A cold shower. A very cold shower.

He stopped short on his way to the bathroom when he noticed her keys still lying on the kitchen counter where he'd tossed them earlier. He debated for a moment about taking them out to her. Instead he decided it would be much more humbling if she had to come back for them. He'd wait. He grinned when he heard the squeak of the screen door.

His smile faded when he realized the person standing in the doorway to the kitchen was not his little hellion. His. He'd better get it through his head that she belonged to Carlton.

Elena Webster stepped inside and greeted him wearing a tiny, thong bathing suit. She slithered across the space separating them.

"Good morning, Elena."

"Good morning, darling."

She stepped closer, her breast just barely graze against his chest. He'd already edged back so far the countertop was digging a hole in his hip. She slid her arms provocatively up his chest and around his neck. Any moment he expected her to start purring louder than Puss who brushed against his leg for attention.

"I thought maybe you could use a little cooling down after your run this morning."

"You sure cooling down was what you had in mind, Elena?"

"Well, I thought we might take the round-a-bout way of working up a sweat first. Did you know that sweating is nature's way of cooling your body?"

"Really," he chuckled. "And all the time I thought the purpose was to make a person stink bad enough to take a bath."

"We can bathe later," she cooed. Her lips settled on his like a starved animal. He started to push her away, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the little hellion standing in the door with her mouth hung open like an alligator catching flies and reconsidered. Maybe it was best if she thought the worst of him.

Kate stood at the threshold, staring at the lip-locked pair. Damn, damn, damn him. Just a short while ago she'd been the one he'd been intimately clinging to. Did it not matter to him who he was physically attached to as long as she wore skirts? She scanned the semi-nude body of the woman twined around Jordan and snorted. Obviously, skirts were not a perquisite either.

Kate spotted her keys lying on the counter just behind the welded bodies. She stomped across the floor, trying to get their attention without actually having to speak. She didn't want to speak to him. Apparently they were too enthralled to be distracted by her attempt for notice.

"Excuse me." She cleared her throat and tried again much louder. "Excuse me!"

Apparently he was much more mesmerized by this woman than he'd been by her. The horny bastard.

Kate elbowed him sharply in the ribs. Satisfied by his wince of pain, she reached around his back for her keys.

The woman glared at Kate for the interruption. Then turned her attention back to Jordan, all the while maintaining her hold around his neck.

"Do you know this person, darling?"

He gave Kate a lecherous grin, holding her gaze as he spoke. "Well let's say, I almost knew her."

Not missing his intentional use of the biblical term, Kate responded hotly. "Thank God, you'll never know what you never knew."

She spun around, determined to make a quick exit, not noticing the soft fur tail that was swishing back and forth next to her foot. She stepped on Puss's tail.

Puss squalled in protest scratching at the nearest thing to her, her master's leg.

He howled almost as loudly as Puss. Jerking his leg up, his knee rammed into the half-clothed woman sending her sprawling upon the kitchen floor flat of her bare butt.

Suppressing her laughter behind her concern for Puss, Kate leaned down and picked the offended cat up. "Poor baby, did I hurt you?" She crooned and stroked the poor creature, while Carlton glared at her suspiciously. Puss licked Kate on the face. Kate knew it was silly but she felt as if Puss was on her side.

She placed the cat back onto the floor and strolled out, feeling very smug. Her unintentional victim cursed as he inspected the long scratches on his leg. He ignored the woman reclining on the floor with an irritated pout on her face

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