Layne sat at the kitchen table and watched Gabriel glare at his trig textbook. He had a fresh piece of notebook paper in front of him, a sharpened pencil clenched between his fingers.

A murderous expression on his face.

“Come on,” she said. “You can’t hate math that much.”

“Trust me. I can.” He glanced up. “You hungry? Want something to drink?”

“I want you to quit stalling.”

“I am not—”

“Oh.” She raised an eyebrow. “Does it usually take twenty minutes to hook up your PlayStation, or was that just for Simon’s benefit?”

His voice dropped. “I was hoping Michael would leave.”

His brother? Layne remembered Gabriel mentioning that they fought, but Michael had been perfectly nice to her. He’d barely said a word during the drive over here, and then left them in the kitchen with the excuse that he had work to catch up on.

“He said he had to run to Home Depot,” said Gabriel. “But he’s probably sticking around to make sure I don’t con you into going upstairs.”

The words almost made her breath catch. Thank god he couldn’t feel her heart rate stutter. “No chance.” She tapped the book with her pencil. “I’m here to help you work.”

“Hmm.” He leaned in and pushed a strand of hair off her face. “Is that a challenge?”

Now she couldn’t breathe at all.

She hadn’t bothered to look at the Internet last night. This morning, either. Kara hadn’t called, and she couldn’t bear to check her e-mail. She had no idea whether Taylor had ever followed through on her threat to put everything online, but if she had, what could Layne do about it?

Nothing.

And it was so much nicer to think about the moments with Gabriel, after the party. She’d turned his words over in her head all night. Not just the kind ones, when they’d been sitting by the water. The harsh ones, the really honest ones, when they’d sat on the tailgate of his car.

What do you think, that I’m some kind of thug player who’ll screw anything in a skirt?

“You’re blushing.” His breath was against her neck, his lips whispering into her skin.

“You’re still stalling. We need to—”

She gasped. His teeth grazed her jaw, the sensitive area below her ear. His hands found her waist, shifting her toward him. Everything suddenly felt ten degrees warmer.

“See?” he murmured. “Who needs math?”

That woke her up. She used her pencil to rap him on the forehead. “You do.”

He sighed disgustedly and drew back.

Then he went right back to glaring at his blank paper.

“It’s only ten questions,” she said, still feeling a bit breathless. “We’ll just work through these, and then . . .” She let the words trail off, but that open ending was just way too . . . open. “Then we’ll talk.”