She found a second scar just under his chin. She softly kissed it. She then admired his suntanned shoulders and the strength of his chest. His upper arms were ripped. His abdomen was defined. She wanted to look lower, to peek beneath the sheet, but she knew her movement would disturb him.

He surprised her by clearing his throat and saying, "The scar by my eye happened when my brother Zane hit me with a rock. Scar under my chin was caused by Shaye. She took karate and kicked me."

Sophie tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help herself. "Your family is dangerous."

"We took each other down as kids, but as adults we're united. Barefoot William means everything to us."

"Your town means a lot to me, too," she said.

"We're glad you're a part of it."

That was good to hear. She never wanted to impose on anyone, but she felt comfortable with the Cateses.

"Today will be a busy day on the beach," she said. "A number of activities are scheduled for the tourists: stand-up paddleboard racing, sandcastle building, and kite flying."

"It's fun to watch the action from the boardwalk if you're not participating," he told her. "The unicyclists will be performing as well as the stilt walkers."

She sighed. "I wanted to ride with the uni-troupe."

"Backward?" he teased.

"I could've turned myself around."

"Trust me, you're better off at the museum. It's safer. I want you protected."

His concern pleased her. "I'm looking forward to speaking with the mayor."

"You want me to join you for moral support?" he asked. "I could meet you on the boardwalk and drive you to the courthouse."

"That works for me," she agreed.

"Mac and I have volleyball practice at eleven. I should be done by three. I'll meet you near the rickshaw hut."

Dune shifted on the bed then. He pushed back against the headboard and sat up. He eased her across his groin.

She winced and he worried.

"You're sore," he said, reading her expression. "I'm sorry, Sophie."

"I'll be fine," she assured him.

He held up his hands, wide palms and long fingers. "I give a good massage," he said with a smile.

She lay on her stomach and let him work his magic. His hands were therapeutic. There was nothing sexual in his strokes, only healing. He kneaded the kinks from her neck to her toes. Her body went liquid under his touch.

He gave her a forty-minute rubdown. "Better?" he asked.

"Between you and an aspirin, I'll recover."

He stroked a finger down her spine, his gaze hot on her bare skin. "More sex means less soreness. You'll get used to me."

She rose on her knees. "You'll prove your theory to me later?"

He trailed a finger down her cheek and his gaze roamed over her appreciatively. "I'll give you lots of proof."

She hesitated, uncertain. "What's the best way to start our day?"

"You cook a gourmet breakfast and serve me in bed."

She went wide eyed until one corner of his mouth twitched. She poked him in the chest. "It's toast and coffee."

She slid off the bed and went in search of her bathrobe. She found it on a hanger behind her bathroom door. She secured the tie, then backed into Dune as he came in. He wore black boxer briefs and carried a shaving kit. He walked a little stiffly himself; the bulge in his briefs was evident. She couldn't help but do a double take at the sight of his muscular chest. She loved his strength and size.

He looked down on her and blocked her from leaving. He was suddenly serious. "My stubble scraped your chin. I'll shave more often when we're together."

She didn't mind. The raspberry marks would fade with her face cream. "I'm going to feed the hamsters first, then I'll fix your toast," she told him.

"Glinda and Scarlett come before me?"

"Priorities." She grinned. "They're little and helpless and you're self-sufficient."

He swatted her on the bottom before she left.

Seeds and thin slices of apple went to the Dwarfs. The hamsters scurried around in excitement.

She returned to the kitchen and started the coffee. Breakfast for Dune soon grew into a tall stack of burned toast.

"I'm not that hungry, Sophie," he said when he entered the kitchen. He'd taken a shower and his hair was finger-combed. He wore a Spike It white T-shirt and khaki shorts. He was barefoot.

"I was going for the perfect piece of toast," she said over her shoulder.

"You've gone through an entire loaf."

"I'll get it right yet."

He came to stand behind her. His arms curved around her waist and he pulled her back against him. He kissed the top of her head. "You're wasting bread."

He stepped to the side and tossed the bread wrapper into the trash can. He looked the stack over and selected two slices from the middle. The least burned of the bunch. "Butter?" he asked.

"In the refrigerator," she said.

Dune swung open the door. He chose peanut butter and jelly, too. He took out a pitcher of orange juice, then set the table for her. He moved around the kitchen without difficulty, as if he'd lived with her forever.

In those moments, Sophie realized how easily he fit into her life. She was shy where he was secure. Somehow his assuredness was rubbing off on her. She was slowly coming into her own. She liked the new, emerging Sophie. Liked her a lot.

They'd just settled at the table when her mother arrived. She knocked on the glass, then shoved back the sliders as though the house belonged to her and not to Sophie.

Maya's timing couldn't have been worse. The sight of Dune and her daughter having breakfast together stopped her mother cold. Maya was impeccably attired, as always, in a charcoal gray suit and matching pumps.

Her outfit was the exact color of Scarlett's fur, Sophie thought.

Maya's face pinched. "I see you have a visitor."

"Sophie invited me to breakfast," Dune said. "I just arrived."

Sophie was grateful for his white lie.

Maya looked skeptical. After all, Dune had blurted out that he was moving in with Sophie, though Sophie doubted her mother had believed him. This was different.

There was no mistaking Sophie's tousled hair. Whisker burn marred her chin. The tie on her robe had loosened and the top and bottom satin panels lay open, exposing her cleavage and thighs. She quickly covered herself.

Dead silence was followed by a long-suffering sigh from her mother. "Be sure to make your bed," she said.

Maya still told her what to do. Sophie felt like she was five years old again.

"What can I do for you, Mother?" she asked.

Maya stood stiffly. "I asked you a month ago what you wanted for your birthday and you never responded," she said. "Your birthday is on Saturday. What have you decided?"

Dune nudged her, then suggested, "How about a pool party?"

Maya shook her head. "Sophie's afraid of water. She doesn't swim."

"I do now," Sophie said. "Dune taught me."

Her mother surprised her. Instead of a caustic remark, her face relaxed. She nodded. "How nice of him. Your grandmother always hoped you'd learn. She tried to teach you, but you cried so hard you vomited in the pool."

Dune poked her. "You puked?"

The memory had stuck with Sophie. "I was six and I'd just eaten breakfast. Waffles and maple syrup. It wasn't a pretty sight."

Dune rubbed her back. "You were a kid. You got scared. No big deal. A nervous stomach can be nasty. I've seen professional volleyball players let nerves get the better of them before a tournament. It happens."

He was kind, Sophie thought, always building her up and never tearing her down. She was grateful. "A small party might be nice," she said. She had a few friends now. She could invite Shaye and Trace, Mac and Jenna, as well as the women from her volleyball team.

Her mother frowned. "You're not a good hostess," she stated flatly. "You're too shy. People don't want to attend a party where the birthday girl stands in the corner."

"I think she's outgrown the corner," said Dune. "I've recently seen Sophie as the center of attention."

Maya raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

Sophie blinked. "When was that?" she asked him.

Dune smiled down on her. "When you spoke to the mayor at the Sneaker Ball, and later when you gave the pedicab tours. You had a captive audience."

He was right. People had flocked around her. They'd listened to what she had to say. She'd been interesting and entertaining.

"We'll throw a party here poolside late Saturday afternoon," Sophie decided with confidence. "Works for me."

Her mother huffed. "That doesn't give Marisole enough time to plan a menu."

"I won't need Mari," Sophie said. "I can fix hamburgers, hot dogs, potato salad-"

"Let's make it potluck," Dune offered. "Less work for the birthday girl. Everyone will bring a dish."

Maya was stunned. "You're asking guests to bring their own food?"

"That's how it's done in Barefoot William," said Dune.

"But this is Saunders Shores," her mother argued.

"You're welcome to join us." Dune was polite, but firm. "Can I put you down for a container of coleslaw? Or corn on the cob? Better yet, a cake?"

Maya looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. She moved to the sliding glass doors, keeping her back to them. "Your gift, Sophie?" she pressed without turning around.

Sophie's throat tightened. "Come to my party, Mother."

Maya didn't miss a beat. "Your father and I have plans for Saturday," she said without remorse. "He's playing in a charity golf tournament at Royal Palm Country Club. I'll be joining him afterward for dinner, drinks, and the silent auction. It's an all-day event and will run quite late."

Disappointing yet typical, Sophie thought. Her parents so seldom came around, especially when she needed them most. This was her birthday. She'd reached a quarter century, a personal milestone with so few memories of doing things as a family. She tried not to let the hurt show on her face. She would celebrate with her friends, thanks to Dune.

Her mother tapped her fingernails on the glass slider. She appeared anxious to leave. "I'll have a present selected and delivered to you," she said, then slipped out.

Sophie's heart sank.

Dune tried to lighten her mood. "At least she's picking out your gift. That's something to celebrate."

"My mother doesn't run errands." She knew that for a fact. "Her personal shopper will pick up the phone and call a trendy boutique. A dress will be delivered, probably tea length and in basic black. The dress will hang in my armoire beside the dozen other dresses she's sent to me over the years."

Dune took a bite of cold toast, then followed it with a sip of lukewarm coffee. Sophie admired his willingness to work through the breakfast she'd prepared for him.

"We'll find an occasion to wear this year's dress," he said. "I'm good for a fancy dinner."

"And dancing?"

"Have you improved since the Sneaker Ball?"

She'd stepped all over his feet when they'd slow danced. "We'll only dance fast."

"I'll suffer the bruises," he said. "Holding you close is better."

He stretched his arms over his head, then rolled his shoulders. "I'll talk with Shaye before volleyball practice," he said. "We'll put your party together."

Her heart warmed. It had been years since anyone threw her a party. Her mother had given up on her by her ninth birthday. She was still a kid at heart.

Dune glanced at the stove clock. "It's after nine," he said. "Mac and I have volleyball practice and you need to get to work."

Sophie scooted off her chair. "I'd hate to be late and have Shaye fire me."