"Hello, Susannah." He watched as she tilted her head to the side to look behind him again. "I'm alone."

"Alone?"

He nodded.

Her forehead wrinkled. "Did someone come part of the way with you?"

"I came all the way alone."

"Ail the way to Greece?"

"Could I come in, Susannah? And if it isn't too much trouble, I'd very much like something to drink."

"Of course." She stepped aside to admit him, but she couldn't resist one last peek outside before she shut the door.

"I think we have some Greek beer," she said. "But-Why are you here, Yank?"

"I've come to get you," he said simply. "I've come to take you home."

The sun was in Paige's eyes, so for a moment she thought the man standing with his back to her on the patio was Mitch. A flash of pleasure washed through her at the idea of engaging in another round of sexual dueling with the delectably stuffy Mr. Blaine. But then she realized that the man looking out toward the sea was much leaner than Mitch and even taller-maybe four or five inches over six feet.

As he turned toward her, she caught her breath. What an incredibly arresting man! His brown hair was side-parted and well-cut. His features were unusually sharp: bladed cheekbones, a thin straight nose, finely chiseled lips-all of it topped by a pair of light brown eyes that were widely spaced and compelling. He was casually dressed in a charcoal shirt with a pair of chinos and a webbed belt. A nearly empty bottle of Greek beer was clasped in his hand, and a gold watch with a leather strap encircled his wrist. All in all, he was an extremely tempting piece of male flesh.

She took a step toward him and stopped as a prickle of unease traveled up her spine. He was looking at her so strangely, almost as if he were taking her apart and examining the separate pieces-the iris of an eye, the curl that brushed her cheek, her chin, a breast. He shifted his gaze to her other breast, regarded it with great concentration, and then moved his eyes down over her torso to her hips. Instead of being insulted, she felt curiously flattered.

"Should I turn around so you can see the rest?"

"Not unless you'd like to." His voice was so deep and soft that it almost seemed to have blown in off the sea.

The door of the cottage opened and Susannah came out with a glass of ice water. She looked tense and frazzled. "Paige, you're back. I didn't hear the moped."

"Just got here." Paige set down the string bag of produce from the market and once again glanced curiously toward their visitor.

"Paige, this is Yank Yankowski. Yank, my sister Paige."

Paige nearly choked. This was Yank? This was the dopey genius that Susannah and Mitch had told her all those stories about? Had Susannah gone blind or had she simply lost her mind?

Paige let her gaze drift appreciatively over Yank. "No wonder big business fascinates you, Susannah. Do you have any more male partners tucked away?"

Susannah looked at her blankly.

Paige returned her attention to Yank and saw that his eyes had grown unfocused. He began patting his pockets, muttering something indecipherable, and then-without a word to either of them-walked past them into the cottage.

Paige watched him with amazement. "What on earth-"

"He's working on something. He does that all the time." Susannah took a sip of her ice water and set it down. Her hand shook ever so slightly. "Paige, don't let him take me back."

"What are you talking about?"

"Yank's come here to take me back. I-I'm not ready yet."

Paige regarded her curiously. "Then don't go. I've told you that you can stay as long as you like."

"You don't know the way he is. When he has his mind set on something, it's impossible to distract him. He's like Sam, except different. He's so gentle. Kind. It's difficult to explain."

"That's ridiculous, Susannah. He can't take you back unless you decide to go with him."

Susannah didn't look convinced. "I never expected him to show up here. Yank doesn't travel by himself. He can't manage things."

"He seems to have managed things just fine." Paige shook her head in amusement. "I can't believe that's the same man you and Mitch were telling me all those dopey stories about. Susannah, he's incredibly sexy."

Susannah seemed vaguely startled. "Well, he's changed a lot since we started the company. He's certainly a lot better looking than he was when I met him. AH the women he's had in his life these past few years have put him together. I guess it happened so gradually that those of us who are with him all the time barely noticed."

"What do you mean, 'put him together'?"

"They've done his clothes shopping for him and thrown out the awful stuff he used to wear. He had this terrible crew cut right out of the 1950s, and these ugly black glasses with Coke-bottle lenses. His girlfriends cleaned him up, organized his wardrobe, and made him get contacts-that sort of thing, But it's all surface cosmetics. Yank is still Yank. And-" She shivered slightly. "Sometimes he can be scary."

It was the first thing Susannah had said about Yank Yankowski that made any sense to Paige.

As she had done with Mitch, Paige invited Yank to stay the night and fed him a delicious dinner. To Yank's credit, he managed to keep up his end of the conversation throughout most of the meal and only faded out on them a time or two. After the dishes were cleared, he asked Susannah to show him the beach.

She made a great play out of pushing the cork back into a bottle of wine they hadn't quite finished. "Let's do it tomorrow. I'm a bit tired tonight."

"I'd very much like to see the beach now," he said quietly.

"It's late, Yank. And it's a steep climb."

"There's a full moon. We can see quite well."

Susannah shot Paige a pleading glance, and her sister's maternal instincts took over. She set down her dishrag and touched Yank's arm lightly. "Beach tours are my specialty. If you treat me right, I might even let you cop a feel behind the rocks."

Susannah's hands stilled on the cork as Yank's mouth curved in a slow sleepy smile that was almost mesmerizing. Paige was right. Yank had turned into an incredibly attractive man, and she had barely been aware of it.

Paige wove her fingers through his and pulled him toward the doorway. "Don't wait up for us," she called over her shoulder. "I'm not letting him back until I've had my way with him."

For all her bravado, Paige felt awkward the moment the cottage was behind them and they were alone. There was something spooky about him-as if he knew all sorts of things other people didn't. She didn't like being put at a disadvantage with Yank, but she wasn't quite certain how to take control.

The moon lit their way, shining silver on the harsh rocks as they headed down the path to the beach. The night was warm and still, and the waves lapped softly at the shore. She walked to the edge, pretending to be mesmerized by the water, while she tried to ignore the fact that Yank was studying her quite openly.

His scrutiny made her increasingly uncomfortable. She fell back on her old tricks. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're incredibly sexy?"

"Yes."

"Susannah thinks you're a nerd."

"I know."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

"Do you think it should?"

"How would I know? If you want to go through life having everyone think you're weird, I guess that's your problem."

He laughed softly.

His amusement irritated her. It suggested that he understood something she could not even begin to perceive. In retaliation, she reached for the tail of her T-shirt and began to pull it up over her bare breasts. "Let's go in for a swim."

He caught her hands, stilling her movement in a surprisingly firm grip. "No, I don't want you to take off your clothes in front of me."

"God, not another one. First Mitch and now you. What are you? A couple of Buddhists or something?"

"Maybe Mitch understands, too. Seducing either one of us isn't the right thing for you to do. Not now."

"Who made you God? How do you know what's right and wrong for me?"

"I just know, that's all. It occurred to me at dinner exactly how all this might turn out. If we're very, very lucky, of course."

"How what will turn out? What are you talking about?"

He brushed the side of her cheek with his hand in the gentlest gesture she could ever remember receiving from a man, and she looked into eyes that were as wise and compassionate as the eyes of a dime-store Jesus. "You mustn't give yourself to anyone for a while, Paige. Not sexually. It's quite important."

She slapped away his gentle touch with the flat of her hand. "I'll 'give myself to anybody I like! God, you really are a nerd! From now on, you mind your own goddamn business, do you hear me? Fuck you, mister. Just… fuck you."

He gave her a sweet sad smile and turned away to watch the waves.

Susannah made certain she was in bed before Yank and Paige returned from the beach. She couldn't bear the thought of another discussion about leaving. As she plumped her pillow, she remembered Paige's astonishing reaction to Yank's appearance. Her sister's sexual sparring with Mitch hadn't been at all surprising-Mitch was an incredibly attractive man-but Paige had seemed just as captivated with Yank.

She shut her eyes and tried to relax so she could sleep, but her eyelids kept jumping open. To distract herself, she began to imagine what it would be like to make love with Yank. Try as she might, ail she could picture was Yank getting distracted at the crucial moment.

And then, to her utter shame, she felt a flash of desire. For the first time it occurred to her that sexual frustration was something she would have to learn to live with. She was a sensual woman, and that part of her wouldn't go away just because she no longer had a husband to satisfy her. At the same time, she was so bruised that she couldn't imagine ever again making the deep emotional commitment that she needed before she could go to bed with someone.

A picture of Sam hovering over her as they made love took shape in her mind. The pain that accompanied it was so sharp she bit down on her lip. Don't think about it, she told herself. Think about someone else.

She pondered the bleak sexless years ahead. Once again she tried to envision herself with Yank, but the picture wouldn't take hold. Another picture took its place, one of herself and Mitch. Fantasy was a harmless pursuit, so she gave herself permission to strip off the black trunks that he had worn on the beach. She imagined his shape and size, and her limbs began to feel pleasantly lax. She let him pick her up and lay her down on a blue silk sheet. She conjured up the scent that he carried with him of starched shirt and clean skin. Her body felt heavy and languid.

She groaned and buried her face into the pillow. As her eyelids squeezed shut, Sam's mouth took shape in her mind. Sam's mouth-hard and determined-whispering a lifelong litany of traitorous love words.

She got up very early the next morning, still groggy from her awful night. Holding her sandals in her hand so she wouldn't make any noise, she slipped across the front room toward the door so she could get away before Yank awakened. Later she would be ready to face him, but not yet.

"Susannah?"

She moaned with frustration as Yank slipped out of his bedroom. His hair was tousled and he had pulled on the wrinkled chinos he had been wearing the night before. The rest of him was uncovered. She didn't realize until that moment that she had never seen Yank without a shirt. His chest was lean almost to the point of boniness, but there was a tautness about his flesh that made his thinness appealing.

"I'm going into town," she said, anxious to get away before he stopped her. "I thought I'd get some pastries for breakfast."

"We don't actually need any pastries." He walked over to the kitchen table, where he picked up a ripe peach from a bowl of fruit and bit into it. He chewed slowly, then looked down at the peach as if he had never seen one before. "It would be easiest on you, Susannah, if you simply resigned yourself to going back with me this afternoon."

"This afternoon? That's impossible."

"Would you prefer to wait until tomorrow morning?"

"No, I-"

"This afternoon, then." He made the statement with ominous finality.

"Yank, I don't want to go back. Not yet. Don't press me on this."

"Someone has to press you. I was very disappointed with Mitch. He should have brought you back last week."

"I'm not a piece of cargo! Listen to me, Yank. The thought of facing Sam-I just can't do it yet."