In the kitchen she put the flowers down on the only clear surface, the top of the stove, and drew in a deep breath. She hadn’t realized what a sucker she was for charm. Maybe it was just the sweetly tentative way in which it was delivered.

She didn’t doubt for an instant that Harlan Adams had always been a flirt, but she was also very aware that he was out of practice delivering compliments with all sorts of subtle innuendo behind them. Teasing a woman just to make her feel good was one thing. It was another to be experimenting with dating after so many years of marriage. It made what they were doing here tonight seem riskier and more significant for both of them.

She sighed and forced her attention to the flowers. It took three large vases to handle all of them. She scattered the arrangements around the living room, poured Harlan’s iced tea, then traipsed back to the bathroom where she’d left him.

“I brought your tea,” she said, keeping one ear attuned to any sounds from the kitchen that might indicate that Jenny had returned. “How’s it going?”

“The washer’s replaced,” he said, his voice muffled. He had his head poked into the vanity under the sink. “Thought I’d check to make sure all the joints were sealed under here while I was at it.”

He slid out and grinned at her. “No leaks under there.”

She took one look at the streaks of grime on his face and shirt and winced. “Harlan, you’re a mess. I’m sorry. I should never have asked you to do this for me, especially when you were all dressed up.”

“Stop fussing. A little dirt never hurt anybody. I’ll wash up.”

“But your shirt...” she protested.

“It’s not a problem,” he insisted. He shot her a wicked grin. “Unless, of course, you object to a man coming to the dinner table looking like this. I could strip down and let you wash the shirt here and now.”

He seemed a little too eager for her to grab at that solution. “Never mind,” she assured him. “I’m the one responsible. I can hardly complain, can I?”

Just then she heard the kitchen door slam. She plastered what she hoped was an innocent expression on her face. “Oh, good, that must be Jenny. She’s been out for a bit. Now that she’s back, I’ll get dinner on the table. Go on out to the porch after you’ve washed up, why don’t you? Relax for a minute. I’ll call you when everything’s on the table.”

“I could help,” he offered.

“No, indeed. You’ve done more than enough. Besides, you won the bet. I can’t have you helping.”