By the time Dean got back from his paint run, it was well after five. The house was quiet, and except for the dining nook, the kitchen had a fresh coat of yellow paint. Jack’s black SUV was missing, so he and Riley must have taken off for dinner. So far today, Dean had managed to avoid all of them, and he intended to keep it that way. He breathed in the smell of fresh paint and new wood. He’d pictured himself owning a home with palm trees and a view of the Pacific, but he loved this farmhouse with its one hundred acres. As soon as he got rid of his houseguests, it would be perfect. Except for Blue. He’d missed her this weekend, and he wasn’t ready for her to go anywhere yet.

As he set the paint in the kitchen, he heard the shower go on. He retrieved the packages he’d left in his car then went upstairs, where he set the sacks on the floor by his suitcases and gazed toward the bathroom door. Blue’s paint-spattered clothes lay in a puddle on the floor. Only a real pervert would push back that plastic she’d insisted he hang over the door, and nobody had ever accused him of being a pervert. Instead, he’d leave the plastic alone and wait here like the gentleman he was for her to come out.

Hopefully naked.

The water stopped. He stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside, a cheesy move, but she liked his chest. He gazed at the fluttering plastic and told himself not to get his hopes up. There was a distinct possibility she’d come out in combat boots and camouflage gear.

He was in luck. She wore only a white towel hiked up to her armpits. Not nearly as good as naked, but at least he could see her legs. His gaze followed a trickle of water sliding down the inside of one trim thigh.

“Out!” Looking like a provoked water nymph, she stabbed her finger toward the hallway.

“My room,” he said.

“I have dibs.”

“How do you figure?”

“Possession. Nine-tenths of the law. Out.”

“I need a shower.”

She gestured toward the bathroom door. “I promise not to bother you.”

He ambled closer. “I’m seriously starting to worry about you.” As he drew up next to her, he caught the scent of his favorite shampoo. It smelled better on her. Her wet hair lay against her head, and the flicker in her eyes told him he was making her nervous. Excellent. He gave her a slow once-over. “I mean it, Blue. I’m seriously starting to believe you might be frigid.”

“Really?”

He circled her, taking in the soft, damp nape of her neck where her hair parted, the gentle curve of her narrow shoulders. “I don’t know…Have you thought about seeing a sex therapist? Hell, we could go together.”