“Nice? We are speaking of my son?” Aggie prompted.
“The big blond one.” Gaby nodded. She cleared her throat and moved toward the house. “I’ll go and get him. Excuse me, won’t you?”
She whirled and ran like wild for the pool area out back. Now Bowie had done it! It would take Aggie about ten seconds to put the whole plot together, and she was going to be out for blood when she realized what they were up to. She wouldn’t consider that they were trying to protect her. She’d think of it as meddling, and what’s more, she’d be right!
Gaby opened the door and scanned the pool, but Bowie was nowhere in sight. Perhaps, she thought, he’d already dressed and gone back into the house. But on an impulse, she went to the shower room and pushed open the door, not really expecting to find him there.
It was a mistake not to knock—she realized that immediately. He’d obviously just come out of the shower, because he was drying his hair. He lifted an amused eyebrow at her shocked stance and red face. He was totally nude from head to toe.
“Yes?” he asked in a perfectly normal tone.
Gaby knew that most twenty-four-year-old women had seen men like this. She had, in pictures, once or twice. But in the flesh, it was different, and especially when the man was Bowie. Without the civilizing veneer of clothes, he was devastating. He was tanned all over—lean muscle from head to toe, perfect symmetry, fine lines, blatant masculinity in every ripple and curve. She stared because she couldn’t help it. He was magnificent, in every sense of the word.
“I’m...sorry,” she croaked, trying to avert her eyes. “I didn’t think you were in here, so I didn’t knock. I should have...!”
“It’s all right,” he said softly. He tossed the towel aside and moved toward her, conscious of her jerky stance, her quick backward step. But he didn’t stop until he was towering over her. “There’s no need to run, Gaby,” he said. “I’m not dangerous.”
“Oh, I know that,” she wailed. “But Bowie...!”
“You’ve never seen a man like this,” he finished for her. “Okay. Now you have. It’s no big deal, honey. Even if I’m not in the habit of stripping in front of women, I guess I don’t really mind letting you look at me. What’s so important that it brought you flying in here?”
She knew her mind had stopped working. He made it sound matter-of-fact, but hadn’t he mentioned something about not letting other women see him this way? She was too confused to pick up on that.
“It’s Aggie,” she said, hot in the cheeks as she tried not to look.
His big hand tilted her eyes up to his black ones. “Aggie and her friend?”
She nodded. “Ned Courtland.”
His face went hard and his eyes began to glitter. “So he’s here. What’s he like?”
“He’s tall and rather intimidating, really,” she faltered. “Like you,” she added with forced laughter.
His fingers touched her cheek and he smiled at her. “Am I? In that case, I suppose I’d better put some clothes on. Hand me my jeans, honey, will you?”
He was getting really free with that endearment, and the thought sent tingling waves of feeling through her slender body. She searched around until she found his jeans, and by the time she had, he was wearing white briefs and shouldering into his blue plaid shirt.
She handed him the jeans with fingers that trembled. They were heavy, sporting the picture jasper belt buckle that Aggie had given him for Christmas last year.
As he took the jeans his free hand touched hers, curling around it. He eyed her with quiet concern. “It’s over. Nothing happened. You got an eyeful, but you’re old enough. No harm done.”
“Except to my nerves,” she said with a shy smile. “I’m sorry I came running in like that.”
“And I’ve already told you, I didn’t mind. Or would it make you feel better to know that if you’d been any other woman, I would have minded?”
She lifted her eyes, frowning. “Why?”
He shrugged. “I’ve got my own hangups.” He pulled on the jeans and fastened them with quick, deft movements. His lean fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, concealing the thick hair and hard muscles of his chest while he studied Gaby’s frankly curious eyes.
“Then I’m flattered,” she said, and tried to appear less embarrassed than she was.
He tucked his shirt into his jeans, and his black eyes held hers. “I’ve never made love to a woman, except in the dark.”
“Oh.” She shifted restlessly. Now that she’d seen him, all sorts of thoughts were flailing about in her brain—shocking things. She turned away while he got into his socks and boots.
“How did Aggie take your arrival?”
“Fine—until Montoya told her you were here,” she told him, glancing back with a nervous but mischievous smile.
“She’s livid. I think we’re both going to be on the lunch menu as entrées.”
“Think so?” He got up, pausing to run his comb through his thick, straight hair in the mirror. It looked like burnished gold, and he kept it conventionally short and neatly trimmed. She loved the very way he moved, with such elegance and grace.
“I offered to go back to Phoenix, but she wouldn’t hear of it,” she said, searching for something to break the silence.
“You can’t go back to Phoenix and leave me here to deal with this,” he said shortly. He pocketed the comb and turned, looming over her. “Aggie’s obviously in the throes of infatuation, and God knows what kind of man he is.”
“You might give him the benefit of the doubt,” she suggested, brushing back an irritating strand of black hair.
“Not before I size him up.” He looked down at her for a long, tense moment, until her knees felt rubbery all over again. “Don’t start avoiding me now,” he said unexpectedly. “I’m not embarrassed, and there’s no reason for you to be. Okay?”
She nibbled her lower lip. “Okay.” Her eyes fell to his polished boots. “You have this way of making the most extraordinary things seem perfectly natural.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been called extraordinary before.”
She glanced up, laughing, because his tone had been droll and dry. His eyes were twinkling with humor. All the tension left her. “Pity,” she murmured and turned away quickly.
He chuckled, moving to open the door for her. “Next time, go swimming when I ask you to,” he said at her temple when she passed him, “and you’ll know when I’m in the shower.”
She met his eyes briefly. “I haven’t been swimming in years, you know,” she said abruptly, without even meaning to. “I don’t own a bathing suit.”
His eyes lost their amused glow and narrowed,
