"I like mayonnaise."

"I seldom clean house."

"I drop-kick my clothes." He flattened his palms on each side of her head and touched his thumbs to her temples. "You're talking habits, not secrets."

She licked her lips. "I forget to pay my bills and beg for extensions."

"Don't we all." He tipped up her chin with his finger and taunted her. "Bring a skeleton out of your closet."

She wiggled a little and he pinned her, his chest and hip bones forcing her to keep still. She felt the cut of his six-pack and the muscles in his thighs. She closed her eyes and hissed through her teeth. "My vibrators have names."

He grinned. "Is the Jack Rabbit called Mac?"

She inhaled as his words soaked in. Then the unthinkable happened. His humor made her horny. Her breasts grew heavy and her nipples poked the red nylon of her sports bra. The hot feel of him from her waist down was a turn-on.

She affected him, too. The bulge in his board shorts brushed her belly as he rested his forehead against hers. "I like a woman who calls out her vibrator's name when she comes." His voice was deep, low, and irritatingly sexy. "I'm still waiting for a secret so dark and scary that it would stop traffic if I yelled it to the world."

"I'm attracted to you."

He blinked, looked skeptical. "Don't placate me."

She crossed her heart. "It's the truth."

He eased back a little. "Are you planning to act on your attraction?"

He'd given her enough space to duck under his arm. She escaped his sexual heat. She'd been honest. He just hadn't believed her. "I shared a secret with you," she said. "A confidence to be kept, but not acted on."

"You're crushing my nuts."

"I wasn't joking."

"Prove it."

"Can't. I have a date."

"You'll be thinking of me the whole time."

"Don't bet on it."

She was back to being snippy, Mac James noted as he leaned a hip against the front counter. Lady could lie with the best of them. She was no more attracted to him than he was to her. Then why was he sporting inches? He was so hard he hurt. Shifting his stance didn't help. He wanted her.

He watched as she finished dressing the mannequins. She added the hats, then chose their flip-flops: rhinestone ones for Joy and leather for Roy.

"Nicole Archer from The Jewelry Box lent me a necklace and bracelets for Joy," she said. She moved to the front counter, where she unlocked a drawer. She removed two layered gold chains with sunburst charms along the links. The bracelets came next. She held them up for him to see. "Assorted metals inlaid with blue onyx and crystals."

He nodded, appreciating the fact she'd shared the colors. "The bracelets look expensive. Shouldn't you keep them under glass?"

"I have security on staff this week," she told him, tongue-in-cheek. "Sophie's volunteering and she hired a young boy named Randy to help out, too. The kid can be trouble."

"How much trouble?"

"He stole a pair of sunglasses during lunch and Sophie went after him. Dune then took off after Sophie. He wasn't going to let her face the situation alone."

Mac took it all in. His always calm, always collected partner had been concerned for Sophie. She'd protected Dune against Zane at the Sneaker Ball. Dune now stood beside her when dealing with a punk kid. He found this all very interesting.

"Randy's holding his own now," Jen went on to say. "Sophie brings out the best in him. He'll guard the jewelry."

"A thief to catch a thief?"

She nodded. "Exactly."

"Sophie," he said thoughtfully. "I like her."

"So does Dune."

Mac narrowed his gaze on her. "How do you know this?"

"It's pretty obvious. My cousin brought us lunch and spent half a day helping out. He's never," she stressed, "done more than a walk-through."

Mac grinned. "He may become a permanent fixture."

"Why are you smiling?" she asked.

"I know something Dune has yet to realize," he said. "I like being one step ahead of the big guy. He's usually two steps ahead of me."

Jen placed the jewelry on Joy, then stood back to admire both the mannequins. "They look beach friendly," she said.

She then glanced at her watch. "I need to get going."

Mac moved toward the door. "Don't let me keep you."

"Bye, Mac."

A part of him wasn't ready to call it a day. But she was meeting up with someone and he had no excuse to stay. Grandfather Frank wanting wheat bagels wouldn't work a second time. The scheme was lame.

He was about to leave when her cell phone rang. She pulled it from the pocket of her shorts, looked at the number, and moved out of earshot. Her "Hello, Kyle," drifted back to him, faint yet discernible.

Mac assumed the caller was her date. Such a call so close to going out wasn't good. The guy was either running late or about to cancel. Mac guessed that she was about to fly solo.

He rubbed the back of his neck. This was none of his business. Why should he care? He didn't really. Yet Jenna crossed his mind when he least expected it. There was something about her that both ticked him off, yet tempted him.

Eavesdropping wasn't new to him. He was barefoot and she'd never hear him coming. He headed to the storeroom, leaned against the wall, and listened.

"I wish you'd told me about your girlfriend," he heard Jen say. A pause while Kyle spoke, then it was Jen once again. "I understand. If she wants you back, you need to work through your fight."

She sounded understanding, Mac thought. He waited for her to pitch a fit. She didn't. He hadn't realized she'd ended the call until she charged from the back room. Anger slapped her flip-flops. Her radar picked him up. She was on him in a heartbeat.

"I knew you were here," she accused. "You're like a wiretap, listening in on my private conversations."

He thought he'd been quiet. "How'd you know I was here?"

"I heard you breathing."

He'd been holding his breath and only released a short, soft whoosh before he turned blue. Apparently Jen had sharp hearing.

"I'm sorry," he said, the best he could do.

"Sorry that you eavesdropped, or sorry I don't have a date?" she asked.

He went with "No date."

She shrugged, sighed. "It doesn't really matter. It's been a long day and I was running short on time. I only had twenty minutes to get home and pull myself together."

"I held you up. I'm to blame."

"I may find fault with you, Mac, but not tonight," she said. "I could've shoved you out the door at any time."

Instead she'd let him stay, let him dress a mannequin. She'd recognized his insecurity in being colorblind and promised to keep his secret. He hoped she was true to her word.

"What about Twilight Bazaar?" he asked.

"I have several family members selling artwork. I need to make an appearance. I can attend alone."

"Or you could attend with me."

"Bailing me out a second time," she said more to herself than to him. "Let's learn from our past mistakes. We didn't connect at the Sneaker Ball, it's doubtful we will over art."

"I'm an art connoisseur."

She looked skeptical. "An expert on women, I could accept, but art? Not a chance."

"Art was an option if I didn't make it in volleyball," he said straight-faced. "I like to finger paint, papier-mache, and mold peanut butter play dough. I'm a master with the glue gun and macaroni. I love to body paint and roll around on butcher paper, especially with a partner."

"You excel in sticky mediums."

"The stickier the better." Black Cherry body oil came to mind. Unexpected, but timely. The oil warmed to the touch and was lickable and tasty. He had a need to get naked and naughty. He hadn't had sex for a week. Kami had been willing and they'd fooled around. In the heat of the moment, thoughts of Jen had crossed his mind and lingered. He couldn't shake her. He'd lost interest in Kami.

All that would change tonight.

Maybe he'd cruise the Blue Coconut for a game of pool or hit happy hour at the Parrot Walk. There were always hot chicks wanting a cocktail and a hook-up. He was in the mood for rug burns and love bites.

"Mac?" Jenna snapped her fingers near his nose. "I'm leaving."

"Hang loose." He followed her out.

She locked up, then left him with a wave of her hand.

He watched her walk away. There were no mincing steps or major wiggle to the woman, he noted. She moved with purpose. She smiled at everyone she passed, many being family and friends. A red light stopped her at the Center Street crosswalk. He caught her profile.

A breeze brushed her hair off her face. Her cheekbones were high and the tilt of her chin was stubborn. She was petite and fit. No way was she packing five extra pounds. She was too damn firm. She looked hot in her belly shirt and shorts. She had a light golden tan, which he found prettier than the beach babes who baked a dark brown.

She waited and waited at the long light. She glanced at her watch, then swung her arms at her sides. A pedicab approached and she flagged it down. She climbed in the three-wheeled rickshaw. The driver took off, cutting the corner sharply.

She was gone. He experienced a sense of emptiness. He neither liked nor understood the feeling.

The bar scene suddenly lost appeal.

He felt left behind.

Jenna Cates was worth pursing.

He ran in front of the next pedicab, forcing the driver to slam on the brakes. The driver said something rude, which Mac ignored. He was at fault. He could've caused an accident on the boardwalk.

He pointed east. "A pedicab just rounded the corner," he said. "Can you catch it?"

The driver looked college age. His name badge read JOE. He eyed Mac as if he were crazy. "Give chase in this heat?"

"It's only ninety-two." Mac had played volleyball in three-digit temps. "I need speed."

"I'm a cruiser."

"I'll triple your fare."

"Add a big tip?"

Mac nodded. "Send the bill to Dune Cates."

"Get in," Joe said.

Mac settled on the narrow cushioned seat. The driver took off, pumping his legs like a superhero.

They rounded the corner at Center Street. Joe pedaled so fast that the back tires left skid marks. Mac squinted against the sun. He'd lost another pair of sunglasses. That made two pairs this week. He needed to be more careful.

He slapped his hands on the back of Joe's seat. "That's them, two blocks ahead."

It felt like a car chase scene from a movie, Mac thought, as the driver left the wide sidewalk and took to the street. This wasn't Bullitt, Ronin, or Mad Max, but a chase was a chase.

A car swerved and pedestrians scattered. Joe was hell on wheels. He beeped his horn at a flock of crows and shouted at a jogger. He was pedaling full-out and bridging the gap. Less than half a block separated them now.

Joe's commotion caught the attention of Jen's driver. The man gestured and she glanced over her shoulder. Mac was close enough now to see her face. Her gaze widened and her lips parted. She said something to her cabbie, which caused him to pick up speed.

Joe heaved a breath. He was growing winded. They quickly lost ground. The pedicab moved beyond the hustle of the boardwalk and pier and crossed into Olde Barefoot William, where the majority of the Cateses lived. The streets were quiet and the old Florida-style cottages were quaint. The homes were shingled and shuttered with wide porches. They'd withstood hurricanes and time. The homes were handed down through generations. Here lay the inner circle.

Enormous evergreens lined the narrow two-lane road. Ancient moss hung from the branches. The sun cast shadows and the scent of hibiscus and plumeria was heavy on the air. Sprinklers whirred as homeowners watered their lawns.

Mac craned his neck. His pedicab had stalled out. Joe was sweating and swearing under his breath. Mac leaned back on the seat and took a moment to plan his next move. He'd been so intent on reaching Jen that he'd yet to come up with an excuse for chasing her down. He had nothing.

He usually thought fast on his feet.