“Whatever works for you. I’ve seen some of her shots. You ought to put some up around here.”

It surprised her as she’d already planned to do so. “Yes, we should. So ...What do you press?”

“I keep it about one-fifty.You’ve got good arms,” he said after one of his long surveys. “How about you?”

“One-ten, maybe one-twenty if I’m in the mood for it.”

“Not bad.”

She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she stretched. There was no denying the man had arms on him. Muscles bunched but didn’t bulge as he lifted and lowered the weights. High on his sleek right biceps rode a tattoo in the shape of a Celtic manhood knot.

She’d only Googled the design out of curiosity.

She respected a man who stayed in shape. As she’d seen Mal stripped down for the ocean—not that she’d paid particular attention—she knew he did.

She moved on to crunches, and he to curls. She added in some pilates, and he switched to flies. He was unobtrusive, so she nearly forgot he was there and ended her workout with a few minutes of yoga to stretch everything out again.

She turned to get a bottle of water and nearly walked into him.

“Sorry.”

“No problem.You’re seriously ripped there, Ms. Brown.”

“Toned,” she corrected. “I’d pass the ripped to you, Mr. Kavanaugh.”

He got two bottles of water out of the cooler, handed her one. Then he moved in until her back was against the cooler, his hands on her hips, and his mouth taking easy possession of hers.

She told herself it was the stunned surprise—where had this come from?—that prolonged the moment, the kiss, the slow, sultry rise of heat. She shoved him back a half a step, gulped in air.

“Wait a minute. Wait a minute.”

“Okay.”

She stared him down, but he seemed unaffected by the look that withered most. Still, he didn’t move in on her again, but only stood watching her with those sharp green eyes.

Cat to mouse, she thought. That’s how it made her feel. And she was nobody’s mouse.

“Listen, if you’ve got the idea I’m ... that because everyone’s paired up and we’re . . .”

“No. That was you. Fourth of July. I remember it really well.”

“That was just—nothing.”

“I liked it. But no, I don’t have the idea. I just like your mouth and thought I’d see if my memory was accurate. It was.”

“Now that we’ve established that.” She elbowed him aside, and stalked out.

On a sound that combined amusement and pleasure, Mal stepped over to change the music. He preferred his long-hair with guitar and drums.