Obviously not caring about the sacred work zone, the cat licked her chops and sat in the doorway of the destroyed bedroom.

“You can’t stay,” he told her. “You’ll get dusty.”

Annabel yawned, turned in a circle and lay down.

Sighing, a complete sucker for animals-even ones who destroyed perfectly good leather pouches-Tanner went into the one good bathroom, grabbed a towel and set it on the floor. “There.”

As if it were her due, Annabel settled on it and proceeded to bathe herself.

Tanner went back to work.

Fifteen minutes later came a very loud, very outraged, very female screech.

Tanner ran out of the bedroom and tripped over Annabel. Again. “Dammit,” he said to her irritated growl. “I told you that was a bad spot.” He raced into the living room. Empty.

Kitchen was empty, too.

The screech came again, and just as he turned toward the bathroom door, it slammed closed in his face.

“I’m naked!” came Cami’s annoyed voice.

Okaaaay. He took a firm step away from the bathroom door and waved his curious workers to the bedroom. He’d seen a naked client once. Or clients, rather, as they’d been married and had been knocking it out in their linen closet when he’d inadvertently interrupted them. They’d been sixty-five, wrinkled and whiter than white, and he still had nightmares about it.

That Cami was alone-he hoped-and was twenty-something, heart-stoppingly beautiful and had no obvious wrinkles didn’t make him feel any better.

He didn’t like naked clients.

“Where’s my towel!”

Tanner looked at Annabel, who apparently lay on the towel in question. She yawned so widely he was certain her head was going to turn inside out.

“I said, I’m naked and I don’t have a towel and I just got out of the shower!”

Tanner’s vivid imagination went to town. He had no trouble picturing Cami on the other side of the closed door, wet and shiny and maybe a little chilly…hmm, maybe he could revise that no-naked-clients policy thing.

“Who stole my towel?”

Oh. Oh, yeah, the towel. Guiltily, Tanner kneeled by Annabel. The towel she lay on had been a lovely deep forest green, before he’d set it on the dusty floor and before she’d added myriad red, white and black cat hairs to it.

“Uh, Cami?” he said, eyeing the sleepy cat. “I appear to have your towel.”

“You- Why?”

“It’s a bit complicated. Is there another somewhere?”

“Sure. Shoved into boxes!”

“How do you feel about air drying?”

There came a thunk, the distinct sound of her head hitting the door. “Can’t we renegotiate this whole morning thing?” came the muffled plea. “Like noon. Let’s start work at noon.”

“We’d never finish. And anyway, you were already up and dressed, moaning about your rose lipstick and being late. Why would you take a shower now?”

“Dammit, it’s my lipstick!” she muttered. “Oh, never mind, just shove the towel in when I open the door. And keep your eyes closed!”

The door creaked open, and Tanner stuffed a corner of the towel in. “Really,” he said to the crack in the door. ‘Trust me, you’re not going to want to use that-”

“Your eyes are open!”

“Well, yeah. I’m just trying to-” But he stopped, because one, he’d just gotten a peek of what it was she didn’t want him to see, and oh man, she was better than his most wild fantasy.

And two, she’d slammed the door again, missing his nose by a millimeter.

“Go away,” she demanded.

Gladly. Because while she had a bod that could make a grown man drool, she was still a loon.


CAMI HAD DONE some interior-design jobs in college and also part-time work for other designers in the area. Being so close to Tahoe and the pocket of incredibly wealthy people who lived there, she’d had plenty of experience. It was fascinating, satisfying, glorious work.

Unless one was trying to drum up that work solo.

The day after the towel incident, which also happened to be blind date night, thanks to Mom, Cami gathered her briefcase and files and sat at the kitchen table, intending to call her two prospective clients.

The table was covered with plans for her own town house remodel, though, and was a cluttered mess. Not too picky, she glanced at the floor, but it had tools scattered from here to there.

The living room wasn’t in much better shape, as she was sleeping in it. “Note to self,” she muttered. “Clean house before blind date.”

The only usable area in the entire place was the hallway outside the one good bathroom. Dragging her phone-with a thankfully long cord-her laptop and her paperwork, she made herself at home right there on the floor.

She was counting on work to help keep her mind off her troubles, such as why she couldn’t get her checkbook to balance or why she’d spent so much money at Amazon last month.

Or why she’d agreed to go out tonight.

And lastly, as a bonus, she could now obsess over the fact that her master carpenter had seen her naked as a jaybird.

Definitely not gay, she thought with a twist of her mouth. She’d have to tell Dimi. Tanner’s eyes had nearly popped out, and that hadn’t been the only thing.

But if he wasn’t gay, and the sight of her naked body had created some…tension, which it definitely had, then why didn’t he seem interested?

Not that she was interested. Nope. He was too know-it-all, too tell-it-like-it-is. Too calm, cool and collected.

Too…well, perfect.

Besides, other than the towel thing, he still hadn’t noticed her as a woman. The unexpected blow to her ego reinforced her pathetic need for this date tonight. Sad as it was, she needed the affirmation that someone, anyone, as long as he was male, could be attracted to her.

Needing the distraction, she picked up the receiver, prepared to make her first business call, then caught sight of her contractor at the other end of the hall. He had his portable CD player tuned into some very loud rock music, but that wasn’t what caught her attention.

He was on his hands and knees, facing away from her. His work boots were scuffed and broken in. So were his jeans and T-shirt. He had a great set of legs, long and powerful, flexing and straining against the denim. He had a great spine, too, and arms that made her want to sigh. Still, it was his butt that really caught her attention.

Her fingers actually itched to grab it.

Pathetic, staring at her contractor’s behind, as if she were a sex-starved woman.

She was a sex-starved woman.

Damn, he was distracting. Just as he caught a glimpse of her, she dropped her gaze and concentrated on her phone. Wouldn’t do to be caught gawking.

“That’s not a great spot to be working,” he said, coming up on his knees. The front of his blue T-shirt strained across his broad chest and flat belly. She wondered if he ever got too hot and took off his shirt.

“I don’t have a choice,” she said coolly. “I have a lot to get done before tonight.”

“Tonight?”

She hadn’t meant to say anything about her upcoming date, but if he worked late, as he had last night, then he’d find out soon enough, anyway. “I have a date.”

“Ah.”

The way his light brown eyes lit up with humor had her frowning. “What’s so funny about a blind date?”

“A blind date.” Now his smirk of amusement turned into a full-blown grin. “What’s the matter with you that you have to go out on a blind date?”

“Well…” Why did he always put her on the defensive? “Nothing’s the matter with me.”

“It’s probably your lack of a sense of humor,” he decided.

“I have a great sense of humor!”

“Uh-huh.”

“I was the class clown in high school,” she informed him loftily, and his grin widened.

“Who set you up?”

“My mother,” she admitted, and when he laughed out loud, she said through her teeth, “It’s a favor.”

“So you don’t really want to go?”

“Not really.”

“Then cancel,” he said with a shrug.

Spoken like a man. A confident man who didn’t give a rat’s pattoodie about what his mother thought. “You don’t know my mother,” she said. Then, unable to help her own curiosity, she asked, “Are you telling me you’ve never been on a blind date?”

“I’m telling you I’ve never done anything I don’t want to do.”

Oh. Well, fine. He was strong-willed and strong-minded. Admirable traits, she supposed. Just not when compared to herself. “Not even for your mother?”

Only his eyes gave away a flicker of sadness. “My mother died when I was ten.”

Great, now she was the jerk. “I’m sorry.”

He stood up and turned his attention to the wall he’d been working on. “So am I.”

“Do you have other family?” she asked his tall, proud back.

“My father.”

“You’re close?”

Another shrug. “Yeah. More so now, since his stroke.”

Feeling two inches tall, she sighed. “I shouldn’t have pried.” But the truth was, she was brimming with questions about this man who said what he wanted without a thought for the consequence.

“He’s recovered,” Tanner said, facing her again. “It took all year, but he’s finally all the way back.”

“You nursed him?”

“You seem shocked.” He smiled. “I can be very useful.”

She believed that.

“But neither my father, nor my mother if she was still alive, would set me up on a blind date.”

“Why not?”

“I was raised to make up my own mind.”

She narrowed her eyes at the insult. “I can make up my own mind.”

“Good.”

“Good,” she repeated, lifting her chin and the phone. Tanner turned to his work, for which she was grateful, because his eyes saw too much. And because she enjoyed the view of his butt.

She dialed her first-she hoped her first-client. “Mrs. Brown?” she said into the phone. “Cami Anderson here, checking in with you. Have you had a chance to look over my designs with Mr. Brown?”

“No, not yet, dear. My son is in town from Seattle for the week.”

“Ah.” In Cami’s experience with customers-which, granted, was limited-the longer they took to decide, the better the chance they’d back out. “I was hoping you could take a look sooner than that, you see-”

“I suppose I could…” Mrs. Brown’s voice turned crafty. “For a favor in return.”

Uh-oh.

“My son, he just turned thirty yesterday, and being that he’s down here, far away from his friends, he’s…lonely.”

Double uh-oh.

“I imagine if you were to…oh, I don’t know…go out with him this evening, that would free me up.”

“I’m busy tonight.”

“Tomorrow then. Or the day after. Name the night. Just go out with Joshua, and I’ll be ready to meet with you the next day.”

From the corner of her eye she watched Tanner. As he worked, the tools hanging on his tool belt clanked together with a rhythmic sound. His hands were sure and confident. His face was steeped in concentration.

He’d forgotten all about her.

She’d just forget all about him. “I don’t think that would be appropriate,” she said to Mrs.

Brown. “Dating a client’s son.”

“Just one date, dear. One harmless little date.”

No doubt, the woman had to be a distant relative of her mother’s. “Mrs. Brown-”

“I’ll double your budget,” she promised rashly.

What could be wrong with her son for double budget?

“Triple.”

Wow. One could forgive a lot for triple. Even if he had three eyes and spit when he talked, it was only one evening, right? “Well…”

“Oh, good, you won’t regret it!”

She bet she would. “Just one date,” she clarified. “Tomorrow night.”

At that, Tanner craned his neck to stare at her.

Cami heard the ripping sound of material caught on a loose nail.

Twisting, Tanner stared at the back of himself and the huge, jagged rip through his T-shirt.

At the sight of a long length of smooth, sleek skin, Cami’s mouth went desert dry.

“Come to the house the day after tomorrow then,” Mrs. Brown said into her ear. “I’ll serve us some tea and cheesecake and we can talk about the work. Do you like cheesecake?”

“I love beefcake,” Cami said, then nearly choked when Tanner whipped toward her again, surprise lighting those interesting, see-all whiskey-colored eyes of his.

“Cheesecake! I meant I love cheesecake,” she corrected frantically. “Yes, yes, I like it with tea, thank you.” Feeling heat creep up her face, Cami found her gaze locked with Tanner’s. He was very amused. “See you Sunday,” she said to her client, and hung up.

“Tea with your cheesecake,” Tanner murmured. “Good combo. But what do you like with your beefcake?”

“Very funny. Everyone makes a slip of the tongue once in awhile.”