“Good morning,” he said, his voice polite and as steady as his eyes were on me.

“Good morning, Mr. Martinez,” Minnie said cheerily. “You want some coffee?”

“I’ll get it for him, Minnie,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder. She gave me a sideways glance, because yes, I was acting weird and skittish. I needed to settle the fuck down.

“Cream? Sugar?” I asked, opening the cabinet and reaching for two mugs. When I turned toward him again with the mugs in hand, his eyes flicked upward, and he gave me a sheepish smile. He was checking out my ass, and now I was glad for all that stress management swimming.

“Just cream, please.”

“No sugar, huh?”

“No… I think most people would agree that I’m sweet enough already.”

You definitely are. I bit my lip to hide my smile as I filled both mugs with coffee and cream. I didn’t take mine with sugar either. I handed him one of the mugs, and our fingers brushed, intentionally or unintentionally. Either way, that glancing touch made my cheeks flush, and I suddenly felt too shy to meet his eyes.

“Let’s step out on the side porch and talk for a minute,” I said, tipping my head in that direction.

“Okay.”

Tommy walked out ahead of me, which gave me a chance to get a good look at him. He had become a damn good dresser, but money could do that for a man — and that’s what he was, wasn’t he? A man who knew that tailored clothes could make a casual collared shirt and shorts look expensive. That when a seam fell in just the right place, it broadened the shoulders and tapered the waist.

He turned to me, smiled, and gestured at the two Adirondack chairs. “Should we sit?”

“Uh…yeah,” I stammered because now, he had caught me checking him out.

This part of the side porch got full sun in the morning, which was why I’d placed three big planters of elephant ears to create a little shade and some privacy from my neighbor’s windows, which looked onto it.

“You look…amazing, by the way,” he said softly. His eyes raked over my body and lingered at the plunging neckline for so long I wondered if I’d unintentionally flashed a nipple. But when I attempted to surreptitiously adjust the bodice, he whispered, “Sorry,” then shook his head as if he were trying just as hard as I was to get his thoughts in order. “So… Thanks for returning my phone,” he murmured, then looked up at me.

Is this flop sweat? Suddenly my top lip and the back of my neck, along with one much more intimate place, felt very moist. “Uh… Yeah. About that—”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupted. “It’s okay. It’s more than okay. If anything, I should be the one apologizing.”

“For what?” I asked.