I drove on a series of twisting lanes up a wooded hill. Most of the houses were hidden from the street. At the apex of one turn, I made a sharp right into the driveway of a belligerently modern house. The real estate agent had called this ugly arrangement of turquoise and peach blocks a West Coast Tuscan, but I thought of it as a California Crapsman.

There were no other car here, meaning that my boyfriend/lover/whatever hadn’t returned yet.

When I opened the car door, Rosemary leaped out and ran around to the back of the house. I grabbed the groceries and Gigi’s gift and followed my dog to the backyard, a plateau of grass with a small oval pool and a fantastic view of the wooded hills beyond. It was private here and serene, so long as I kept my gaze averted from the house.

I left the packages in the shade of a patio umbrella and stripped off my clothes. When I dived into the pool, Rosemary jumped in, too. I swam a few laps, enjoying the weightless sensation, and then I got out and looked for a stick to throw for my dog.

I spotted one of Rosemary’s tennis balls in the shrubbery border. When I bent to pick it up, I heard, “Ah, a glorious full moon in broad daylight.”

I grabbed the ball, jumped, and turned.

My boyfriend/lover/whatever, Ian Ducharme, let out a sexy, rumbly laugh. He was wearing an ivory long-sleeved shirt and navy slacks. His deep brown eyes glinted in the shadow of the Panama hat that was tipped forward to shield his face from the sun.

He had dark curly hair, an aquiline nose, hooded eyes, and a Cheshire Cat grin. He wasn’t tall and he wasn’t markedly good-looking, but he had charisma, which came from the Greek kharisma, meaning “gift,” and that charisma made me distrust my attraction to him.

I said, “Don’t do that!”

“Do what? I was merely admiring the sumptuous vista.” Ian and his crafty sister, Cornelia, had been hauled around their family’s properties when they were young, and they spoke English with a Continental accent: some words had a clipped British pronunciation and others were rolled luxuriously.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that. I’m going to sew tiny bells onto all your clothes so that I can hear you coming.” I threw the tennis ball in the pool and Rosemary paddled after it.

“Aren’t you going to welcome me back?” Ian took a step toward me, and I suddenly felt both shy and thrilled.

I walked in the other direction, putting the pool between us. “I don’t want to muss your clothes. You dress so flawlessly that I’m abandoning all efforts to keep up with you. I’m going to stay naked from now on.”

“A laudable policy.”