“And?”

She swallowed, aware of a trembling in her limbs. “Tell me your secret and I’ll show you mine.”

He grinned. “They called me the Frog, which was pure mockery since I have never managed to learn to swim.”

“The Frog? That’s it? That’s your horrid secret?”

“I was six. It seemed horrid at the time.”

She had to grin.

He reached out and traced the line of her gown with his fingertips, his skin brushing hers. “Now you owe me.”

“So I do. But…it doesn’t seem fair that I might be the only one without any clothing.”

He pulled his soaked shirt over his head before she could draw a breath.

Harriet chuckled. “A man of action. I like that.”

Chase’s grin broke through, and he leaned against one of the large poles that held the loft as he pulled off his boots. “I’ve never been one to linger except, of course”—he flashed a smile, wickedly intent—“in certain instances. And then I can stay till dawn.”

“Braggart.”

“That’s for the lady to say.” His gaze dropped across her, as if seeing through her gown, brushing her breasts, stomach, and thighs. Each place his gaze touched, a shimmering of heat was left behind, like a dusting of hot ash.

She shivered. The fine hair on Harriet’s arms were all on end, her nipples pebbled into hardness. He was the most sensual man she’d ever met. Even something as simple as talking became a heated dance, a silky waltz of entendre and double entendre.

And she loved it. Savored it. Reveled in it. Harriet found the ribbon that tied her gown. She laced it between her fingers and tugged ever so gently. Chase’s gaze followed her every move even as he threw his boots into the corner of the barn and undid his breeches.

Harriet’s breath grew rapid. The air was warm and sweet, the scent of cut hay and feed tickling her nose. Every day she walked into this barn; every day she saw the piles of hay, the empty stalls, the plain plank walls. The shimmer of the tin dipper that hung from the bucket of water on the loft pole.

She saw every detail each and every day and yet she didn’t see a thing. But now, after this, she had the feeling that from now on, the inside of the barn would be firmly fixed in her mind, and she’d see it with startling clarity.

Chase gave a tug and his wet breeches were off. He tossed them aside with the same careless disregard he’d thrown the old worn boots and the shirt. Now he stood before her, unclothed, his black hair falling over his brow, his blue eyes devouring her as if he was already touching her, his well-muscled body glimmering in the golden slants of light that cut through the barn.

Oblivious to her gaze, he pulled an old blanket from the tack room and tossed it over the hay. Then he turned to face her, a devilish glint in his gaze. “It’s not as luxurious as I’d like, or you deserve, but it’s ours.”