She held out her arms, exhibiting herself, and found a smile for him. "I'm not sure this is the best brunch attire, but I appreciate the offer. Maybe next week." He looked at her a long time, just looking. Then he reached out and took her hand. He didn't grimace over the dirt.

"I care for you a great deal, Kate." He glanced toward the house, then back at her. "Don't shut me out."

Leaning forward, he kissed her on the forehead, so kind, so gentle, so perfectly right for her, then he got in his car and drove away. She watched him.until his four-door sedan disappeared around the bend in the road. He was an incredible man. And she resolved to make time for him next week.

Feeling good about her decision, she went inside to her workroom off the kitchen and found the buckets.

Thankfully, Jesse was nowhere in sight. But she hadn't gotten more than the first tool cleaned when she heard the screen door open, then bang shut.

"Anyone home?"

He entered the kitchen, and she could see him through the open workroom doorway, the sun casting

him in morning light.

"I'll be there in a minute," she called out.

He had dressed in a pair of khaki shorts with a polo shirt hanging out untucked, boat shoes without socks, and a Texas Rangers baseball cap that he tossed onto the counter. Anyone else would have looked unruly. Jesse Chapman looked wonderful and amazing and like more trouble than she knew how to handle.

He pulled open the refrigerator and looked inside.

"There's orange juice if you want some," she said.

"Thanks."

By the time she scrubbed her hands free of dirt, he was on his second glass.

"Can I get you something for breakfast?" she asked. "I have Cheerios, powdered doughnuts, and

Pop-Tarts."

"A regular health nut."

"Strawberry Pop-Tarts. Plus I have granola bars."

Jesse grinned, then glanced back into the workroom. "You have plenty to do. I'll make breakfast while

you finish up."

"You?"

"Believe it or not, I can make a Pop-Tart as easily as the next guy."

He didn't wait for a response. He got busy going through her cabinets and pantry. "Success. Strawberry

and blueberry. The only other thing I need is a real cup of coffee-"

She pointed to the coffeemaker and the tin next to it.

"-and I'm set."

She nodded and then went back to the gardening tools. When she finished and returned to the kitchen,

he was just serving breakfast.

"I made enough for both of us," he said.

She really was hungry. "Thanks." She debated taking a quick shower.

"Clean up later," he said, reading her thoughts. He shoved her gently into the seat, then set a premade

pastry in front of her.

They ate in companionable silence, until Jesse finished. "Man, can I use a toaster."

"So much for modesty," she teased.

He glanced over at her with a wicked smile. "Modesty is overrated."

Kate rolled her eyes, then finished her last bite. Reaching across the table, she gathered their plates.

"I can't believe you're dating Parker," he said, leaning back, holding his coffee against his broad chest.

"Why? He's a fine man, even if he is a friend of yours." This time she grinned.

"Cute. But I don't like him."

"How can you say that! You were friends for ages."

"Yeah, well," he conceded grudgingly. "I guess I just don't like him for you."

For some reason, this really got to her, or maybe it was just a lot of things piling up. Him here. Looking

great. Still wild. Whatever the reason, she sat back in the chair and skewered him with a scowl. "Given that you're a guest in my home, I don't want to be rude. However, I feel compelled to point out that my relationship with Parker Hammond is none of your business."

Jesse only grinned, unabashed, his corded forearms rippling as he set his cup aside and tossed his napkin on the table. He whistled, then shrugged. "You and Parker- who would have guessed?" He held his hands up in surrender. "Certainly not me, though that could be because I never really saw him as having much appeal."

"Glad you're such an expert on men. Have you switched over?"

His eyes went wide for half a second, then he gave a bark of appreciative laughter. "There's my Katie."

"I am not your Katie."

He sat for a long second, just looking, before he pushed up from the table and stepped beside her chair.

Hot, intense emotion ticked through him and he couldn't explain why her words bothered him. She

wasn't his. He didn't want her to be his.

But that didn't stop the hard, driving need that beat inside him. He leaned close to her ear, pressing in on her space, making her uncomfortable. "Then whose Katie are you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

"Are you really Parker's?"

"I don't belong to anyone."

Her indignation amused him, and he smiled at her defiance. Then with slow, deliberate movements, he

grabbed her chair and pulled her and the furniture around as if he couldn't do anything else. He leaned down and braced his hands against the hard wood arms on either side of her, bringing them face to face.

"I think I get it," he mused. "You're modern and liberated. The Gloria Steinem of Meadowlark Drive."

Something deep and indefinable pushed him on. He tilted her back until the chair balanced on two legs.

Her mouth opened in surprise, a single long strand of curling hair trailing along her cheek.

"Does that mean there's still a little bit of the old, wild Katie left underneath all that prim?"

"I was never wild," she managed to say.

"Do I need to remind you about wanting to punch Billy Weeks in the nose? Or riding your bike like the

devil licked at your heels?" He let the chair drop back into an upright position. "What happened to that little girl?"

"She grew up."

He ran his gaze over her body. "I noticed."

The gold that highlighted her hazel eyes flared. But then she shook her head. "I noticed something, too."

Jesse tilted his head. "What?"

"Another woman in my guest cottage."

His thoughts jarred to a halt before he laughed out loud. "Now, Katie," he cajoled, "don't look at me like that-so condemning. Would it matter if I told you that I didn't have sex with Gwen?"

She blinked. "Sex?" she managed with a high-pitched, completely unprofessional non-news anchor voice.

"Surely you've heard of it," he teased, running the back of his finger along the line of her jaw. "Sexual intercourse. Having a little feel-good fun. The facts of life. Surely by now someone has told you about the birds and bees."

Her mouth fell open as he pulled her up from the chair and everything changed. The air around them crackled with anticipation, his muscles tightened. They were inches apart, close enough that he could lean down to kiss her. And he wanted to. He wanted to strip her naked and teach her all the things he had thought about when they were dancing Friday night. Which was crazy.

She might have grown up to be a woman who could easily turn a man's head, but she'd also grown up to be a woman with high standards and a strong moral compass, and that made it easy to resist her-okay, easier to resist her.

Katie made him think about things that had nothing to do with his life. Like that damned innocence she wore like a shield. He liked experienced women. It didn't take a genius to know that Katie was not. He liked his women bold, knowledgeable. The kind who expected nothing from him in return.

But he couldn't help it when his gaze drifted to her lips. Every trace of laughter and teasing fun evaporated. "You're messing with my mind, sweet thing."

His fingertips trailed low along her jaw to the pulse in her neck. The heat was instant, intense, rushing through him like a flash fire. He stepped even closer, one boat shoe coming between those damned flowered sneakers, his thigh brushing against hers. Awareness rode him hard and fast.

He let his fingers drift even lower to her collarbone beneath her shirt. He savored her pale silky skin. Her eyes fluttered closed at the touch, one soft breath expelled. And when he couldn't hold back any longer, he lowered his head, their lips a hairbreadth apart, the sweet sound of her whimper making his blood pump.

But all of a sudden she sucked in her breath and jerked away, backing into the table edge as her hand came to her lips. "This can't happen," she whispered.

She was right. This was insane. But something pushed him on. He reached out and took her hand.

"You're right." He pulled her close regardless.

Her eyes flashed with an innocent desire that nearly undid him. With their gazes locked, he ran his palms up her arms, need licking through him, making him hard. Framing her face with his hands, he watched her lips part. But before he could dip his head and taste her, she asked, "Does this mean you're going to stay?"

His thoughts cemented, his body shuddering to a halt like he'd had a bucket of cold water tossed in his face. "Stay?"

He felt the place inside him that he kept locked away close off completely. His jaw tightened and he let go of her.