She pulled out a note written on Molly’s new line of Nightingale Woods stationery. “Molly says this is one of her favorite cottages and she hopes we like it. The refrigerator’s stocked with necessities, and there’s a cookout on the beach at six o’clock.” The P.S. Annabelle kept to herself.

Do not do anything stupid!

“Fill me in on this book club.” He moved his suitcase out of the way and set a shoulder against the doorjamb as she slipped the note inside the pocket of her slacks. “How did you get involved?”

“Through Molly.” She unzipped her suitcase. “We’ve been meeting once a month for the past two years. Last year Phoebe said she thought it would be fun if we all went away for a weekend. I think she had a spa in mind, but Janine and I couldn’t afford it—Janine writes young adult books—so Molly jumped in and said we should all come to the campground. Before long, the men were involved.”

Annabelle and Janine were two of only three book club members not directly associated with the Stars. The other was Heath’s dream woman, Gwen. Fortunately, she and Ian were closing on their new house this weekend and couldn’t come.

Heath gave a soft whistle. “This is one hell of a book club. Phoebe and Molly. Didn’t you mention Ron McDermitt’s wife?”

She nodded and flipped open her suitcase. “Sharon used to teach nursery school. She keeps us in line.”

“And now she’s married to the Stars’ general manager. I’ve met her.” He gazed directly at the bras and panties lying on top, but his mind was on business, not underwear. “At the party, Phoebe mentioned Darnell. That can only be Darnell Pruitt.”

“His wife’s name is Charmaine.” She surreptitiously slipped a T-shirt over her lingerie pile

“The greatest D.T. the Stars ever had.”

“Charmaine played football?”

But he was a John Deere on his way to a tractor-pulling contest, and she couldn’t distract him. “Who else?”

“Krystal Greer.” She pulled out her toiletry case and set it on the dresser’s cracked white marble top.

“Webster Greer’s wife. Unbelievable. He went to the Pro Bowl nine years in a row.”

“It’s the women who are members, not the men. Try not to embarrass me.”

He snorted and picked up his suitcase but paused at the door. “Did anybody bring their kids?”

“Adults only.”

He smiled. “Excellent.”

“Except for Pippi and Danny. They’re too young to leave behind.”

“Shit.”

She frowned at him. “What’s wrong with you? They’re adorable children.”

“One of them’s adorable. I’d sign him right now if I could.”

“The road trips might be a challenge, since he’s still nursing. And Pippi’s just as cute as Danny. That little girl is precious.”

“She’ll be in prison before she makes it to first grade.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Just rambling.” He headed out the door only to poke his head back in. “Good taste in panties, Tinker Bell.” Then he was gone.

She sank down on the side of the bed. The man didn’t miss anything. What else about her might he notice that she didn’t want him to see? With a sense of foreboding, she traded in her new slacks for biscuit-colored shorts but left the flirty bronze top on. After running her fingers through her hair, she headed for the porch. Heath was already there. He’d also changed into shorts, along with a light gray T-shirt that curled like pipe smoke around the contours of his chest. A blade of light angling through the screen caught one cheekbone, etching its tough, uncompromising contour. “Are you going to sabotage me this weekend?” he asked quietly.