Melanie planted her hands on her wet hips, tapped her soggy Nike, and glared at him.

Holding his hands up in surrender, he said, "Whoa! A cute pirate. A very, very cute pirate. The cutest. Really."

"Pirate, huh? Ask me where my buccaneers are."

"Okay. Where are your buccaneers?"

She waggled her brows at him. "Under my buccan' hat."

He threw back his head and laughed. "Ready to try it again, matey?"

"Sure." She eyed him up and down. "But this time you get in first."


* * *

Chris paddled the canoe and covertly observed Melanie through the dark lenses of his Ray-Bans. She was nearly dry and sat with her eyes closed, her face turned up to the sun. He noted with amusement that she sat perfectly still, clutching the edges of the canoe with a white-knuckled grip.

His gaze slid over her and his stomach tightened. Her hair curled in wild profusion around her face, the sun shooting the brown locks with shafts of reddish fire. Her skin glowed with the sheen of some kind of sunscreen that made her smell like a delicious combination of coconut and pineapple. She reminded him of one of those tropical drinks with the paper umbrellas-sweet, cool, and scrumptious.

His gaze drifted downward, taking in her long, slim legs. She'd left her soggy Nikes on the dock to dry, and now her pink-tipped toes peeked at him. Even her feet were cute. Chris shook his head. Damn, he had it bad.

And the fact that she was such a good sport about getting dunked in the lake made him like her even more. Every other woman he knew would have pitched a hissy fit in a similar situation.

But not Melanie. Nope, she'd just taken it in stride, wrung the water out of her clothes, pushed her hair out of her eyes, and grown determined to beat the canoe at its own game.

That unassuming, unfussy side of her appealed to him more than any perfectly made-up, exquisitely groomed woman ever had. A mental image of her, disheveled from a bout of frantic lovemaking, flashed in his mind and he had to stifle a groan. He decided to get a conversation going before he melted into a sweaty puddle.

"Has Glenn called you about your review?" he asked in a casual tone, gliding the craft slowly through the calm water.

"No, but Bob Harris said it would take about two or three weeks. I'm praying it goes well. This loan means everything to me."

I know. "I noticed two vacant storefronts across the street from the Pampered Palate. Any idea what's going in them?"

"One is going to be a liquor store. I don't know about the other one."

Chris's stomach clenched. She didn't know.

He considered telling her but decided to wait until after he'd talked things through with Glenn. There was no point in destroying her weekend, and he knew the news would do just that. And he refused to ruin their time together with speculation over something that might not be a problem at all. At least he hoped it wouldn't, although his pesky inner voice told him differently. Firmly pushing his concerns away, he asked, "So what do you think of canoeing?"

She pursed her lips. "It's fun. I like the ride, the breeze, being out on the lake. Of course, being in the lake was not quite so much fun." She eyed his dry shorts with a pointed glare.

"Have you noticed," she continued in a reflective tone, "that every time we see each other we end up wet? We met in the rain, swam in the pool at the cookout, and now this." She glanced down at her wrinkled shorts and shirt. "And between your suits and my shorts, one of us always seems to end up with ruined clothes."

Chris nodded slowly. "Now that you mention it, yes. We've definitely developed a pattern."

"Seems so." Her gaze drifted down to his dry socks and sneakers before returning to his face. "Of course, you missed out on today's water portion of the entertainment. You being on the dock and all."

"I know better than to get into a canoe with a novice."

"Ah. So you set me up. You knew I would end up in the lake the minute I stepped into this dug-out log."

"I had a pretty good idea, yeah."

"Hmmm."

He caught the impish grin spreading over her face. He knew trouble when he saw it.

"You realize," she said in a casual tone, "that no matter how fast you paddle this tub you'll never make it back to the dock dry."

He dug the paddle in, trying not to laugh. "I can try."

Her smile widened, deepening her dimples, and Chris's heart thumped. She looked so damned adorable, challenging him, her eyes filled with laughter, a piece of seaweed stuck to her shirt.

I'm falling in love with her. God help me, I'm falling in love with her.

Stunned by the enormity of the revelation, he barely noticed when she yelled, "Banzai!" and tipped the canoe, dumping them both into the lake.


* * *

Melanie surfaced and shook her hair out of her eyes. Chris came up next to her, sputtering. He pushed his hair back with his hands and Melanie gulped. Good grief. How the heck did he manage to look so sexy? She was sure she looked like two miles of bad road.

He settled his dripping sunglasses on top of his head. "You dunked me," he said, standing up. The water lapped at his chest. Sunlight bounced off his tanned, bare shoulders, and droplets glistened on the thatch of dark chest hair visible above the water.

Why, oh why, had the blasted man taken off his shirt? To torture her? Those firm muscles under golden skin had bunched and flexed every time he dug the oar into the water. Jeez. The guy was more tempting than chocolate. Than double, triple chocolate with whipped cream and a cherry on top. What am I? Made of stone?

She forced her hands to remain at her sides-not an easy task when her fingers literally itched to reach out and touch him. "Dunk you? Damn straight. You put me back in that tippy little sucker and I'll do it again. I've decided I'm not canoe-inclined. I'm definitely a cruise ship sort of girl."

He grabbed her arms and hauled her up against him. Melanie caught her breath as she bumped into the hard wall of his bare chest, and her pulse speeded up to triple time when she looked at his face. His eyelashes were spiky from the water, and his eyes darkened with that look she was not only coming to know, but to anticipate with bated breath. That look he got just before he destroyed her with his kiss.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and waited to be wrecked.

He lowered his head and kissed her with such slow, long, deep perfection, she could practically feel steam rising from her skin. The stunning contrast of the cool lake water, the hot sun, and the hard man pressing against her soft curves did her in. She knew exactly where this was leading, and it had nothing to do with martinis.

Running his fingers through her wet hair, he whispered her name against her mouth. "Melanie…"

Lost in a passionate haze, she answered, "Chris…"

"The canoe is sneaking away."

It took a moment for his words to sink in. She finally lifted her head and looked behind her. The upside-down canoe floated a good hundred yards away. The paddle was nowhere to be seen.

He walked her the short distance to the dock and helped her climb up. "I'll be right back," he promised, pushing off with a splash.

While he was rescuing the canoe and returning it to the rental booth, Melanie busied herself setting up their picnic lunch. She needed an activity, any activity, to keep her mind occupied and off that. Because it was so hot, she opted for a blanket under a shady willow rather than one of the redwood tables in the sun. The last thing she needed was more heat.

When Chris joined her, she handed him a frosty lemonade and watched him polish it off in a series of long swallows. Good grief. Even drinking lemonade, he was beautiful.

He flopped down on the blanket and helped himself to a sandwich. Melanie nibbled on her turkey club, trying to define the fluttering in her stomach. That same half-thrilling, half-terrifying sensation she experienced every time she looked at him. Every time she thought of him. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying it wasn't what she suspected but knowing it was.

"What's up, Mel Gibson?" he asked in a teasing tone. "You look so serious."

Melanie opened her eyes. He was sprawled on his side on the blanket, propped up on one elbow, studying her.

Serious. Yes. That's what I am. Seriously crazy about you. She stared at him, at his handsome face, the lock of dark hair falling across his brow, and knew she was more than crazy about him.

She was falling in love with him.

Good grief, how had that happened?

Okay, maybe it was because he was the most gorgeous man on earth. But Melanie shook her head and took an absent bite of her sandwich. His looks might have attracted her at first, but it was so much more than that.

He was kind. And thoughtful. He bought Barbie dolls for his niece and was sweet to his mother. He chatted with Nana and was going out of his way to do the crazy things she'd said she wanted to do before she kicked off.

Feeling a tingling warmth on her leg, she looked down and saw his hand resting on her knee.

"Is something wrong, Melanie?" he asked, sitting up, his voice filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

No. And it's all your fault, you gorgeous, sexy man, you. You have me all tied up in knots. I've got knots on my knots.

"I'm fine. Just sleepy, I guess. Too much sun, too much lake, too much food." Too much man. "All those dunks in the water left me kinda sore."

"I know just what you need. Lie down on your stomach."

Uh-oh. Being in a prone position while Chris was in the vicinity had "bad idea" written all over it. She glanced around. While the picnic crowds had thinned out, they weren't exactly alone. She was safe enough. Probably. "Lie down? Why?"

"Back rub. Guaranteed to cure what ails you." When she hesitated, he made a tsking sound. "Come on. This won't hurt. Just relax."

Relax? Fat chance. But before she could protest, Melanie found herself lying face down on the blanket, with Chris's palms skimming lightly over her back.

He increased the pressure, massaging her muscles with an expertise that left her purring like a kitten within seconds. He worked his way from her shoulders to the small of her back, kneading until she felt as loose and relaxed as a pile of watery Jell-o. When he finally stopped, she heaved out a loud, blissful sigh.

"Incredible," she moaned, rolling over onto her back. "Absolutely incredi-"

His mouth descended on hers, cutting off her tribute to his massage skills. He deepened the kiss, dancing his tongue with hers, and every relaxed part of her jumped back to life with a screaming roar. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she arched up against him, breathing his name.

He slanted his mouth over hers again and again, his fingers tangling in her hair, his upper body pressing her into the blanket. Just when she thought she was going to liquefy into mush, he abruptly sat up.

Prone and breathless, Melanie watched him scrub unsteady hands down his face. Then he stood and hauled her to her feet. Yanking up the blanket and the picnic basket, he grabbed her hand and pulled her along.

"Where are we going?" she panted, half from passion, half from the exertion of keeping up with his long-legged strides.

"Home."

Disappointment flooded her. Darn him for being so noble. "Oh."

When they reached the Mercedes, he tossed the blanket and basket into the trunk, then regarded her with dead-serious dark blue eyes.

"My home. Right now. As fast as I can get us there. We're going to finish this, and here is not the place. If you have any objections to that plan, I suggest you speak now or forever hold your peace."

Melanie's insides turned to goo. Objections? To making love with this incredible man? Did she have STUPID stamped on her face? Her previous hesitation and reluctance had turned into impatient need and anticipation.

But there was something she had to tell him first-something he needed to know up front.

Taking a deep breath, she blurted out, "I don't have any objections, but I have to warn you, I'm no good at… well, at that."

A frown appeared between his brows. "That?"

"Sex." A shaky laugh escaped her. "I just thought you should know. If you want to change your mind, I completely understand." Please God, don't let him change his mind.

He stared at her as if she was speaking a foreign language. "What the hell are you talking about? Why would you say something like that?"