Now she drilled a hand into his stomach. “They are not.” She picked up her wine, touched to see it was her usual brand. “What can I do?”

“About what?”

“Dinner. How can I help?”

“Nothing much to do. We can go outside, and I’ll start the grill.”

He led the way through a dining room he currently used as an office. Here Hope’s innate organizational soul shivered. Papers unfiled, supplies jumbled, a desk all but trembling under the weight of undone tasks.

“Don’t start,” he said, seeing her look.

“Some of us handle tools, others handle office space. I can say, proudly, I’m reasonably adept with the first and a genius with the second. I could help you with this.”

“I—”

“Know where everything is,” she finished. “That’s what they all say.”

She stepped out onto a wide deck, breathed deep. His mother, she had no doubt, had spearheaded the charming country-cheer garden, the planters spilling with color. It all flowed into the green spread of woods and the rise of hill.

“This is wonderful. I’d want my coffee out here every morning.”

“There’s never much time for that in the morning.” He opened an enormous, shiny silver grill that struck her as intimidating. “I wouldn’t think the house in the woods would be your style.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ve never had a chance to find out. From the ’burbs to the city, from the city to small town. I’ve liked all of it. I think I’d like the house in the woods, too. Which way is Clare? And which way is Avery?”

After he’d switched on the grill, he walked to her, stepped behind her. Lifting her arm with his, he pointed in one direction. “Avery.” Then angled her arm again. “Clare. And.” He turned her, pointed again. “My mother.”

“It’s nice to be close. But not too close.”

“I can see their house lights when the leaves fall. It’s close enough.”

She looked over her shoulder to smile, and found herself turned into him, pressed again him. His mouth took hers, hot and urgent. A surprise, as he’d seemed so casual. A wonderful surprise, she thought, as his need stirred her own.

He took her wine, set it aside. “We’ll eat after.” And grabbing her hand pulled her back into the house.

She scrambled to keep up. “All right.”

He made it to the stairs before he pushed her against the wall, tortured himself with her lips, her body. “Just let me . . .”

He found the short zipper that started halfway down her back, yanked it down. She barely had time to gasp before she was naked but for a thong, her heels, and a pair of dangling earrings.