But now, looking into Brooke’s eyes, he was suddenly glad he had. Very glad. Just taking her in, he felt a visceral reaction clear to his toes. For the first time since he’d met her, she wasn’t dressed for the practicality of their work. No uniform trousers and matching shirt, no steel-toed work boots, no carefully controlled hairdo that said. Back off. The rest of me is wound as tight as my hair.

Not that that look didn’t have some hotness to it.

But tonight she was in a pale blue sundress of some lightweight material that hugged toned limbs and a body that reminded him she was in shape.

Great shape.

She’d left her hair down, the strawberry blond strands falling in soft waves just past her shoulders, lit softly by the moonlight. A few long bangs were swept to one side, curving along her cheek and jaw, emphasizing her face.

A beautiful face.

Looking at him.

Smiling at him, with just a hint of nerves.

And he stood there, a little stunned, because when she smiled for real it lit up her face and her eyes, revealing humor and a sharp intelligence, and…and a sexual awareness that sparked his.

Hell, his had been sparked from the moment he’d first set eyes on her, but once he’d realized she wasn’t going to play, he’d tried like hell to redirect.

She wasn’t going to play. Playing wasn’t her thing. He needed to remember that. He really did. Turning, he headed down the beach. Not to the party, not yet. He needed a moment—

“Zach?”

Alone. He’d needed a moment alone, away from her, to clear his head, where he couldn’t see her looking at him, so sweet and sexy, smiling that smile—

A little breathless, she ran around to the front of him, one hand stopping her loose hair from sliding into her face, the other spread on her dress as if to keep it from blowing up in the wind.

Torn between hoping for a gale-force wind or running away, he stood there instead, rooted to the spot. “You look…”

“Silly, right?” She smoothed down the fabric but the breeze continued to tease the flimsy material, lifting it, revealing her lovely thighs for one all-too-brief, tantalizing glimpse. “I know. I should have stuck with something more practical—”

“Amazing,” he managed. Even the sound of her voice lifted his spirits. Somehow she made him feel better by just being. “I was going to say you look amazing.”

“Oh.” She flashed another kill-him-slowly smile. “It’s just a dress.”

“I like it. I like the lip gloss, too.” It smelled like peaches, and he wondered, if he leaned in right now, would she let him have another taste of her?

Just one.