She looked down guiltily at the notebook in her hand. "All right, so I forgot." He snorted at that statement. She quickly put the notebook away. "So, were you in the military?"

He laughed."No."

"Then why does that man call you Captain?"

Tyber rubbed the back of his neck, seeking a way to explain this. "Blooey is an excellent cook." She stared at him expectantly. "He... thinks he's on a pirate ship and that I'm the captain."

As if that explained it. She continued to stare at him.

Tyber sighed. "Arthur Bloomberg used to be a brilliant mathematician. We worked together at one time. It was his work on imaginary numbers that drove him slightly over the edge-the paradox, you see. As Blooey says, 'What was the point?' Pun intended."

"I see. I think. He had sort of a nervous breakdown, and you took him in." She was beginning to see yet another side to Tyberius Augustus Evans. A side she liked very much. "Doesn't he have any relatives?"

"None that will claim him. Besides," he said by way of explanation, "Blooey's the best shipmate I've ever sailed with. Wait until you taste his cooking-I really think it's his true vocation, doctorate be dammed."

"That man has a doctorate?" Her expression was incredulous.

"Yes, but compared to his vegetable terrine, its meaningless."

Tyber led her through the conservatory onto the grounds behind the house. They passed more gardens, then passed through a high wrought-iron gate in yet another stone wall. This was the "pool area." The entire site was reminiscent of a secluded grotto, with boulders lining the pool itself, giving it a natural pond appearance. Several little waterfalls cascaded into the pool from the rock wall, which contained, of all things, an outdoor fireplace. A second iron gate led directly into the house.

It was a lovely spot.

It was devoid of guests.

Zanita looked around. "Where is everybody?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said you were having an end-of-class, Indian summer pool party."

Tyber threw himself onto a wicker lounge, crossing his hands behind his head. "And so I am."

Zanita's eyes narrowed. "There are no other guests, are there?"

"I don't recall mentioning other guests to you."

She tapped her foot. "I can see you have a tendency toward presumption, Dr. Evans."

"And how is that, Ms. Masterson? I issued an invitation; you accepted." He watched her from under half-lowered lids. "Now, why was that, I wonder?"

He was toying with her. He knew exactly why she had accepted!

Zanita kicked a pebble off the patio and into the pool. "You know why! I want an interview with you!"

Tyber's silvery blue eyes followed the pebble with some amusement as it skipped across the stones to plop into the water. Unfolding himself from the lounge chair, he walked behind her to cup his hands on her shoulders.

Zanita tried to move away; he pulled her back.

Bending low, he said firmly in her ear, "No interview. No more debris in my pool."

Zanita swallowed convulsively at the heat of him behind her. She suddenly wanted to rest her head back against his chest, feel those powerful arms come around her...

She blinked. Bad enough she behaved foolishly just now. No need to compound her error by throwing herself at the man.

What was wrong with her? She was usually a very cautious person when it came to relationships with men. Hadn't Mills told her so? Not that she wanted a relationship with him. He probably wouldn't be interested even if she did. And what if she had truly pissed him off just now? How stupid can one person be? After all, she was his guest.

His capable hands moved at her shoulders, massaging her tense muscles. The act did not relax her.

"Did you notice the topiary labyrinth when you came in?" His low voice sent shivers down her neck.

Still captured by his hands, she nodded her head warily.

"Good. I want you to know that the maze is extremely complex. To date, no one has successfully navigated through it. Do you know why I built it?"

She shook her head, sending her curls bouncing.

"I built it as a foil to anyone foolish enough to seek an interview. Those creatures eat little reporters like you for lunch."

Zanita gasped, her imagination running wild.

Tyber's answering chuckle was a strong, sexy laugh of male amusement. Was it her imagination or did his lips just brush her hair?

She broke out of his hold, turning to face him.

"Really, Tyber, I just want-"

"No." He tapped her nose. "Now, would you like something to drink, Curls?"

Tyber was being difficult. But not impossible. She would have to bide her time and try again in an hour or so. Smiling secretly, she accepted his offer of refreshment.

Tyber handed her a frosty glass of lemonade from the outdoor bar, thinking she had the look of his cat again. He knew the look well. She wasn't going to give up.

He sighed.

How was he going to get her mind off that damn interview? As long as she thought of him as a subject for her article, she wouldn't be seeing him as a person.

A person who was extremely attracted to her.

There was something about her that drew him like a magnetic force. From the moment he spotted her sitting in that third-row seat in the lecture hall, he had been captivated by her. He hadn't quite figured it out yet.

Despite his unorthodox persona, Tyber was not a man who leaped into idle indulgences with women. Because of his secluded lifestyle and his penchant for research, his experiences with women were usually based on a mutual interest in scientific matters, or were the natural result of a deepening friendship.

His liaisons followed a pattern.

He always knew the woman on a professional basis first before engaging in a friendly affair. These relationships had a tendency to last several months before being mutually set aside. There was tenderness, decent sex, and a certain camaraderie.

This one, however, was different.

For some reason, Zanita Masterson incited him.

She made him want her on a level he was unfamiliar with. There was an urgency in the air when he was near her.

The sight and scent of her aroused deep, mysterious passions in him-passions he ached to explore with the same thoroughness with which he explored his other endeavors.

And it wasn't just the passion-though Lord knew, that was enough.

What captivated him as much as the physical pull was that he couldn't seem to anticipate her. Zanita Masterson was a surprise in every way. He didn't understand it, but he wasn't particularly concerned about it. He was confident he would figure it out in time.

They sat in the sun slowly sipping their lemonades.

Zanita was careful to skirt the topic of the interview until she was ready to pounce.

Tyber was careful to skirt the issue of his raging desire lest he pounce.

In their quest to avoid certain topics, they found to their surprise a wealth of other subjects in which they shared similar viewpoints. They liked the same movies. They loved trying out new restaurants. They itched to travel and explore, knowing they had a nest at home, waiting. They were open to new ideas and situations. They shared a love of art and antiques. And most important, they had a similar sense of humor.

Zanita wondered how it was possible for her to have so much in common with a man who was a genius.

Tyber calculated the odds of their being perfect together sexually as exponentially high.

Their thoughts were interrupted by Blooey yelling at the top of his lungs. "Come 'ere, ye scalawag!"

Tyber and Zanita stared at each other silently.

A second later, the gate banged open and a streak of orange fur whizzed by, a rack of lamb clamped firmly in its jaws.

Blooey followed hot on Hambone's tail, waving a kitchen cleaver. "He's got the dinner, Captain!"

The cat jumped on top of the barbecue, zealously guarding his prize.

Zanita's hand covered her mouth, but it did little to hide the giggles she could not suppress. Whoever heard of a cat making off with an entire rack of lamb? Being chased by a little pirate sporting a cleaver? She broke into peals of laughter.

Tyber turned to her, more than a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Never mind, Blooey. We'll pull into Port KFC tonight. My old friend the Colonel has invited us to dine."

Blooey beamed. "Ye think he'll be serving that fine chicken he does, sir?"

Tyber eyed the half-chewed rack of prime lamb wistfully, "There's a distinct possibility, sailor."

The three of them piled into the front seat of Tyber's 1955 cherry-red pick-up truck, affectionately known as "Big Red."

Zanita learned that he had restored the vehicle when he was still in high school. First the house, now the truck. It seemed the man had a penchant for bringing things back to life. Rather like Dr. Frankenstein, she mused.

When they stopped at a light, Tyber spoke low in her ear. "What are you laughing at now? Don't you realize I arranged all of this just to impress you? I had to promise Hambone a week's supply of filleted salmon. The cat's a tough negotiator." Tyber pressed on the gas when the light changed.

"I wouldn't doubt that for a minute. Actually, the reason I was laughing was because I was thinking that you're rather like Frankenstein."

"Frankenstein?" Tyber hit the brakes.

"Oh, don't be offended; I mean the doctor, not the monster."

He eyed her strangely. "Gee, thanks," he said drily. "For a minute there, I thought I was being insulted. I can't tell you what a relief it is to know you think of me as a deranged scientist with delusions of godhood instead of an ordinary old monster."

Blooey let out a bark of laughter. "T'weren't nowhere to go but down on that one, Captain!"

Tyber lifted one eyebrow. "Indeed."

"Have faith, Captain. Women are difficult creatures at best."

"So I've been told, Blooey." Tyber peered down at Zanita menacingly, then he spoiled the effect by winking at her.

Zanita grinned back at him, thinking Blooey was right; he did resemble a pirate captain.

Big Red swung into the lot and up to the order window.

Tyber turned to his passengers. "Okay, who wants what?"

Zanita licked her lips. "I'll have Extra Crispy."

"That spice is a fine blend, Captain."

Zanita agreed. "On the other hand I've been meaning to try the rotisserie style."

"So you want me to get Rotisserie Gold?" Tyber asked.

"No, fried is the Colonel's specialty, Captain."

"Yes, that's right." Zanita agreed with Blooey. "Original Recipe. Wait-"

"Don't forget the biscuits."

"-white meat."

"Ach, the dark is best, lass."

Tyber dropped his forehead against the steering wheel.

"Potato wedges, too," Zanita added.

"Nay, the mashed potatoes!" The car behind them honked. "Don't forget Hambone loves the gravy, Captain. Though he's not deservin' it, is he?"

"That does it!" Tyber rolled down his window. "Give me the largest bucket you have and throw some of everything in it!"

Zanita and Blooey gave each other secret smiles on the drive back to the house. It seemed the two of them knew exactly how to get to Tyber. And did it right well together, too.

They ate outside on a wicker table by the pool, Hambone licking a little saucer of gravy at their feet. After they had cleaned up, Blooey decided to return to his "cabin" to finish a mystery he'd been reading. Zanita and Tyber elected to stay outside to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather. They plunked down on side-by-side lounge chairs, both of them kicking off their shoes.

Tyber absently watched the water rippling in the pool. "Do you want to go swimming?"