Then again, she could turn out to be a nut. Last night had been a lot of fun, but it was only one evening. He'd misjudged people with more time than that to observe them. Carolyn, to name one. The woman who'd taught him, by throwing an antique vase at him, that women's clothing should not go in the dryer.

That was one thing that had occurred to him last night as he'd been looking at Gray's furnace. She was beautiful, and intelligent, and certainly seemed nice, but he didn't know her at all. If they had slept together, and she'd turned out to be different than she seemed, it would have made for a very long summer.

If he was honest, though, the real reason he had decided not to spend the night was that he was afraid she was was everything she seemed to be. That was, the kind of girl he could really fall for, and the last thing he needed was to fall for someone who was leaving in a month or two. everything she seemed to be. That was, the kind of girl he could really fall for, and the last thing he needed was to fall for someone who was leaving in a month or two.

That said, it had been hard to leave her. With her wide blue eyes and kitten-soft hair, not to mention her killer body, he'd d.a.m.n near had to tear himself away.

From inside the house, Duke barked, and Sam jogged up the back steps to find the dog at the front window, tail sailing back and forth like the white flag of surrender. Inexplicably, his nerves jumped, as if he knew Gray was at the door. He felt the conflict of wanting desperately to see her and yet not wanting to ruin the memory of the night before by seeing her again. What if she wasn't what she'd seemed?

He was being stupid, he thought, and opened the door. But the porch was empty. He took one step out and saw someone move around the corner of the house, clearly heading toward the back. He caught a fleeting glimpse of blond hair, and excitement rippled through his chest.

It was was Gray. Had she gotten a ride in somehow? Was she looking for her bicycle? Or him? Gray. Had she gotten a ride in somehow? Was she looking for her bicycle? Or him?

On the heels of that thought, he realized that she was heading for his backyard. The very place her dress hung drying in the summer air.

Laying his head back, he closed his eyes and cursed.

Duke barked and ran for the back door. Sam followed, squinting his eyes as if that might change the view. Out the window he saw Gray, in a short white tee shirt and clamdiggers, standing by the clothesline fingering her dress.

With a deep, bracing breath, he opened the back door. Duke bounded out, tail high and wagging wildly.

Gray turned toward him, and on her face he read shock, then surprise as she spun toward the approaching dog.

"He's friendly," Sam called, sensing doom. This was the part where she suspected him of doing something awful. Where he had to explain the unexplainable-really, the dress just showed up on my lawn-with an excuse as flimsy as "the dog ate my homework."

Duke bounded toward her, but rather than looking afraid, Gray knelt and extended her hand, palm up, for Duke to inspect.

"Is this where you live, you naughty thing?" she said, laughing. She turned a bemused expression on Sam. "This is your your dog?" dog?"

He shrugged ruefully. "If I say yes, are you going to be mad at me?"

"That depends," she said, rising. Duke sat on her feet and leaned up against her thigh, snowy head bent back to look up at her adoringly.

Traitor, Sam thought. He should be over there ripping the dress off the line, to show her how he'd done it. Sam thought. He should be over there ripping the dress off the line, to show her how he'd done it.

"Why do you think I'd be mad?" She eyed him suspiciously.

Too late, he realized that by admitting he knew this was her dress, he was divulging that a) he'd seen her naked on the bicycle and b) he hadn't told her. His mind worked furiously, as his face warmed with shame, but all he could come up with was the fact that he was pretty much screwed any way this played out, so it was probably best to stick to the truth.

"Are you blushing?" she asked, eyes wide. Then she closed them, putting one hand to her brow. "Oh my G.o.d. You saw me, didn't you? You saw me riding home yesterday morning. Is that why you came and talked to me at the bar last night?"

"I-well-it's-the thing is..." There was no way out of this. Yes, he'd seen her, but that wasn't his fault, was it? And yes, it was why he'd talked to her at the bar, but he'd have talked to her anyway. She was gorgeous. And yes, his dog was the reason she'd had to ride home naked to begin with, but it wasn't as if he'd trained Duke to do that kind of thing. He'd been as shocked as anyone when he found the thing in his yard.

With both hands, she covered her face and bent over at the waist. For a horrified second he stood frozen, watching her shoulders shake.

Good G.o.d, he thought, he thought, she's crying. She's going into hysterics. she's crying. She's going into hysterics.

Beside her, Duke stood up, still wagging his tail and hopping lightly off his front two feet to lick her arm.

"Gray, I'm sorry." He strode toward her, hands outstretched. "I don't know how it happened. Heck, I can't even imagine how he got the thing off you to begin with. But I swear, I had nothing to do with it. I-"

She straightened and he saw that her face was wet with tears. But instead of the desperate look of unhappiness he'd antic.i.p.ated, he saw that she was laughing. laughing. She'd been bent over at the waist, convulsed with laughter. She'd been bent over at the waist, convulsed with laughter.

His heart lightened immediately. "What?"

"I can't believe it." She giggled through a hand now at her mouth. "Of all the people..." She laughed again, then tried to sober, wiping her eyes and stifling her mirth. "That is is why you talked to me last night, isn't it?" why you talked to me last night, isn't it?"

"Gray, I would have talked to you anyway. My G.o.d, you stood out at that bar like an angel in a tar pit. But believe me-"

"Did you even think about telling me you had my dress?"

"Of course!" He threw out his arms. "But tell me, how do you do that? How do you say to someone you just met that, by the way, you have her clothes at your house."

She arched a brow. "It beats having her find find her clothes at your house." her clothes at your house."

He inclined his head. "I'll give you that. I'm sure it looks...odd."

"I'll say. Just tell me this. Were you down there? On the beach? Did you watch me...?"

"What? Oh, no. G.o.d, no. Believe me, if I'd seen Duke take your clothes, I'd have gotten them back to you right away. I found the dress right over there"-he gestured toward the spot-"late yesterday morning, after he got back to the house covered with sand. But...how did he even get the dress? What were you doing without your clothes?"

It was her turn to blush. "Acting totally out of character. For which I was punished severely." At his confused look, she added, "I was skinny-dipping."

The visual this statement brought with it made his lips curl into a smile. "Okay, now I have to confess that had I seen that, I would definitely have returned the dress. But I can't say how quickly."

Incredibly, she laughed. Then, with one hand scratching Duke's ear, she reached out and touched her dress again. "Did you actually wash it?"

"Yeah, it, uh, looked a little the worse for wear when Duke brought it home."

"You named your dog Duke? What is it with this town and the Duke of Dunkirk?"

"I didn't name him after that duke. I didn't name him after any any duke. It just, well, I don't know. Maybe I did. Come to think of it, the name just came to me, and it seemed to fit." duke. It just, well, I don't know. Maybe I did. Come to think of it, the name just came to me, and it seemed to fit."

"It does fit." She leaned down and looked Duke in the eye as she buried her hands in his fur. "So you're the guy in the long coat I've seen walking with him on the beach."

Sam frowned. "Uh, no. Probably not. I don't own a long coat, for one thing. And lately I've been too swamped with work to walk him much."

"Does he go with you to your jobs?"

"My, uh, jobs?" He frowned, shook his head. "No, I work at home."

She c.o.c.ked her head. "I thought you were a plumber. Because you were going to come fix my furnace. You have-tools. You know what to do with pipes and stuff."

He chuckled. "No, sorry. I'm nothing so useful. I'm a music reviewer. Cla.s.sical, for magazines, mostly. CDs, concerts, DVD performances."

Her expression cleared. "That's how you knew that Beethoven piece."

"Everybody knows that Beethoven piece." When she flushed, he added, "Everybody who's into cla.s.sical music, that is. Hey, listen, I was going to call you. How 'bout I come work on that furnace this afternoon, if that's all right with you."

She beamed. "That'd be great!"

"I can bring your bike, too, when I come. I'll just throw it in the back of the truck." He indicated the pickup next to the garage. "How did you get here this morning?"

"I walked."

His brows rose. "That's quite a hike."

"Oh, I love to walk. And it's a gorgeous day."

He gazed at her, knowing that a besotted look had settled onto his features. "Gorgeous," he agreed.

She smiled. "I was thinking, when you're done with the furnace, I could treat you to dinner. As a thank-you. I'm a pretty good cook."

A gratified warmth spread throughout him. It was easy to say he didn't want to get involved with someone who was leaving, but when faced with this amazing girl, it was getting too hard to say no.

"That sounds perfect."

She nodded once, smiling, and turned to go. A second later she turned back. "Oh, and Sam? Could you also bring my dress when you come?"

He laughed. "No problem. I'll send Duke over with it the minute it's dry."

Several hours later, Sam emerged from Gray's bas.e.m.e.nt, a bag in his hand and the heater humming, if not quietly at least effectively, behind him.

Gray turned from the stove where she was sauteing onions and couldn't help grinning at the handsome, disheveled man before her.

"Have you exorcised my ghost?" she asked.

"That should be the last you hear of him." He held aloft a bag full of clanking parts. "No more ghostly wailing. No more cigarette smoke. Do you think you'll be lonely?"

"Hardly. Relieved is more like it. So how do you know how to do all that stuff?" She wiped her hands on the towel over her shoulder.

"Hey, you live in old houses long enough, you learn how old stuff works." He leaned a hip against the counter. "That smells great. What is it?"

"We're having shrimp scampi. I hope you like garlic."

He grinned. "Only if you're eating it, too."

Gray blushed with pleasure. "It's only fair."

They stood there a moment, both wearing dopey smiles and goggling at each other, before Sam said, "So, you mind if I take a shower?"

"Oh no, not at all. The bathroom's at the top of the stairs."

"Great." He dropped the bag on the counter and headed for the stairs, leaving Gray to cook and think about the naked man being caressed by warm soapy water not fifteen feet above her.

It was only about ten minutes later when Sam called down to her.

She moved to the bottom of the steps and saw his wet head poking out of the steamy bathroom. "Need someone to wash your back?" she teased.

That fabulous smile overtook his face again. "Actually, I was looking for a towel, but if you're offering...?"

She started up the stairs. Ah, the temptation. The linen closet was right next to the bathroom, and he watched as she retrieved a clean towel and handed it to him.

He took it with one hand, his fingers covering hers on the terry cloth, and pulled her closer, the door shielding all but his head and one shoulder. He kissed her, damply but chastely, and smiled. "Thank you."

Her gaze caught and held his. "You're welcome."

They stared at each other a long moment, then both leaned simultaneously in for another kiss.

Feeling gutsy, as was so easy with this guy, Gray pushed the door wider with one hand and stepped into his embrace. Sam deepened the kiss, pulling her close to his wet body, the length of it hard against Gray's. She felt his arousal stiffen against her and pushed her hips into his. Her hands held his head, fingers woven through the wet tendrils of his hair.

Heat fired between them, and it wasn't just because of the hot shower. Sam's hands rode down her back, then around her waist and beneath her shirt.

Gray let her fingers run down his ribs and around his hips to the hard evidence of his desire. "Let's go into the bedroom."

Sam pulled back. Gray had just enough time to worry that he might refuse, when he smiled, and said, "Lead the way."

They fell onto the bed in a flurry of pa.s.sion. He pushed at her shirt until she sat up and pulled it swiftly over her head. Sam went for the b.u.t.ton on her pants, and a second later she was naked.

"Incredible," he exhaled.

Gray thought the same thing as she pushed him back onto the bed and lay her body over his, flesh against flesh, the delicious sensation of one body meeting another for the first time. He had the physique of an athlete. Her hands covered his pectorals while his reached up and touched her hair where it cascaded toward her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"You are..." he breathed, but he didn't complete the sentence as Gray cupped his hardness and stroked.

He inhaled sharply. "My G.o.d."

She smiled, and his hands moved over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, across her ribs and stomach. One hand tucked itself between her and where she rested atop his hips, his finger immediately finding her center.

She bit her bottom lip. Oh, she needed him. Now. Now. She felt none of her usual inhibition, required none of the usual coaxing to bring the act to fruition. All she felt was hot, naked hunger. She felt none of her usual inhibition, required none of the usual coaxing to bring the act to fruition. All she felt was hot, naked hunger.

She propped herself up on her knees and his fingers dove inside. She gasped, then sighed, her hands caressing the evidence of his desire.

"I...let's..." She couldn't form the words, but her hand directed him toward her heat.

"Jeez," he exhaled. Then added, "Have you got...?"

She reached over toward the bedside table and opened the drawer. She had just put the condoms in that morning, hoping for this occasion but doubting it would actually happen.

He rolled slightly and took the tiny envelope from her. As he moved, she had the opportunity to note just how well muscled he was, despite being lean. He fumbled with the wrapper, then tore it open with his teeth.

Gray laughed, and a second later his hand was back on her and her head began to spin.

He donned the condom in one swift move, then pulled her decisively over him. She wavered just a second. But when she saw him tilt his head at her hesitation, felt him stroke her thigh like a filly that needed calming, she gave a small smile and rose up to cover him.