She rose from the glider. "I still don't want you to stay here."

"It's my cottage."

"I have renter's rights."

His voice slid over her, soft and sexy. "I think being around me just makes you nervous."

"Yeah, right." She managed a yawn.

Amused, he nodded toward her wineglass. "You're drinking. Aren't you afraid you'll attack me again in my sleep?"

"Oops. Relapse. And I didn't even realize it."

"Or maybe you're afraid I'll attack you."

Something licked at her deep inside, but she played Ms. Cool, wandering over to the table to wipe up a few bread crumbs with the napkin she'd left there. "Why should I be? You're not attracted to me."

He waited just long enough before he replied to make her nervous. "How do you know who I'm attracted to?"

Her heart did a provoking little skipper-dee. "Oh, my gosh! And here I thought my command of the English language would drive us apart."

"You're such a wise-ass."

"Sorry, but I like my men with more depth of character."

"Are you trying to say you think I'm shallow?"

"As a sidewalk puddle. But you're rich and gorgeous, so it's okay."

"I am not shallow!"

"Fill in the blank: The most important thing in Kevin Tucker's life is-"

"Football is my career. That hardly makes me shallow."

"The second, third, and fourth most important things in Kevin Tucker's life are football, football, and oh my god, football."

"I'm the best at what I do, and I'm not apologizing."

"The fifth most important thing in Kevin Tucker's life is-Oh, wait now, that would be women, wouldn't it?"

"Quiet ones, so that leaves you out!"

She was halfway to a great comeback when it hit her. "I get it. All the foreign women…" He looked wary. "You don't want someone you can truly communicate with. That might get in the way of your primary obsession."

"You have no idea what you're talking about. I keep telling you: I date lots of American women."

"And I'll bet they're interchangeable. Beautiful, not too bright, and-as soon as they turn demanding-out the door."

"The good old days."

"I insulted you, in case you didn't realize it."

"I insulted you back, in case you didn't realize it."

She smiled. "I'm sure you don't want to stay under the same roof with someone who's so demanding."

"You're not getting rid of me that easily. As a matter of fact, living together could have some advantages." He rose from the glider and gazed at her with an expression that conjured up images of sweaty bodies and messy sheets. Then he reached into the pocket of his robe, breaking the spell which had probably all been in her imagination anyway.

He pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. It took her only a moment to recognize the drawing she'd made of Daphne diving into the water.

"I found this in the trash." He smoothed it out as he came toward her, then pointed down at Benny. "This guy? He's the badger?"

She nodded slowly, wishing she hadn't discarded the drawing where he could find it.

"So why did you throw it away?"

"Safety issues."

"Uhm…"

"Sometimes I use incidents in my own life for inspiration."

His mouth quirked. "I can see that."

"I'm really more a cartoonist than an artist."

"This is a little too detailed for a cartoon."

She shrugged and held out her hand to take it back, but he shook his head. "It's mine now. I like it." He slipped it his pocket, then turned back toward the kitchen door. "I'd better get dressed."

"Good, because staying here won't work."

"Oh, I'm staying here. I'm just going into town for a while." He paused and gave her a crooked smile. "You can come along if you'd like."

Her brain sounded a warning. "Thanks anyway, but my German's rusty, and too much chocolate makes my skin break out."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous."

"Just remember, liebling, the alarm goes off at five-thirty tomorrow morning."

She heard him come in sometime after one, so it was a pleasure banging on his bedroom door at dawn. There had been rain overnight, but as they walked silently down the lane, they were both too groggy to appreciate the freshly washed, rosy-gray sky. While Kevin yawned, she concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and avoiding puddles. Only Roo was happy to be up and about.

Molly fixed blueberry pancakes, and Kevin sliced uneven chunks of fruit into a blue pottery bowl. As he worked, he grumbled that someone with a 65-percent pass completion record shouldn't have to do kitchen duty. His complaining stopped, however, when Marmie strolled in.

"Where did that cat come from?"

Molly dodged his question. "She showed up yesterday. That's Marmie."

Roo whimpered and crawled under the table. Kevin grabbed a tea towel to dry his hands. "Hey, girl." He knelt and stroked the animal. Marmie immediately curled against him.

"I thought you didn't like animals."

"I love animals. Where did you get that idea?" Marmie put her paws on his leg, and he picked her up.

"From my dog?"

"That's a dog? Jeez, I'm sorry. I thought it was an industrial-waste accident." His long, lean fingers slid through the cat's fur.

"Slytherin." She slapped the lid back onto the flour container. What kind of man liked a cat more than he liked an exceptionally fine French poodle?

"What did you call me?"

"It's a literary reference. You wouldn't understand."

"Harry Potter. And I don't appreciate name calling."

His reply irritated her. It was getting harder and harder to convince herself he was just a pretty face.

The Pearsons were their first customers. John Pearson consumed half a dozen pancakes and a serving of scrambled eggs while he updated Kevin on the couple's so-far-fruitless search for Kirtland's warbler. Chet and Gwen were leaving that day, and when Molly peered into the dining room, she saw Gwen casting come-hither glances at Kevin. A little later she heard a commotion from the front of the house. She turned off the heat and rushed into the foyer, where the forbidding man she'd seen on the Common the day she'd arrived was growling at Kevin.

"She's a redhead. Tall-five feet nine. And beautiful. Somebody said they saw her here yesterday afternoon."

"What do you want with her?" Kevin asked.

"We had an appointment."

"What kind of an appointment?"

"Is she here or not?"

"I thought I recognized that snarl." Lilly appeared at the top of the stairs. Somehow she managed to make her simple periwinkle linen camp shirt and matching walking shorts look glamorous. She began to descend, every inch the queen of the screen, then stalled awkwardly as she spotted Kevin. "Good morning."

He gave her a brusque nod and disappeared into the dining room.

Lilly retained her composure. The man who'd come to see her stared toward the dining room, and Molly realized he was the one she'd passed coming out of the woods her first day here. How did Lilly know him?

"It's eight-thirty," he grumbled. "We were supposed to meet at seven."

"I mulled it over for a few seconds and decided I'd rather sleep in."

He glared at her like a surly lion. "Let's get going. I'm losing the light."

"If you search hard enough, I'm sure you'll be able to find it. In the meantime I'm eating breakfast."

His brow furrowed.

Lilly turned to Molly, her expression frosty. "Would it be possible for me to eat in the kitchen instead of the dining room?"

Molly told herself to rise above Lilly's hostility, then decided the heck with it. Two could play this game. "Of course. Maybe you'd both like to eat there. I've made blueberry pancakes."

Lilly looked miffed.

"Do you have coffee?" he barked.

Molly had always been drawn to individuals who didn't care about earning the approval of others-probably because she'd spent so much time trying to earn her father's.

This man's outrageous crankiness fascinated her. She also noticed that he was very sexy for someone his age. "All the coffee you can drink."

"Well, all right then."

Molly felt a little guilty and returned her attention to Lilly. "Feel free to use the kitchen anytime you want. I'm sure you'd rather avoid facing your fans first thing in the morning."

"What kind of fans?" he demanded.

"I'm fairly well known," Lilly said.

"Oh." He dismissed her celebrity. "If you insist on eating, could you hurry up about it?"

Lilly addressed Molly, but only to aggravate him, she was certain. "This unbelievably self-absorbed man is Liam Jenner. Mr. Jenner, this is Molly, my… nephew's wife."

For the second time in two days Molly found herself starstruck. "Mr. Jenner?" She gulped. "I can't tell you what a pleasure this is. I've admired your work for years. I can't believe you're here! I just-You have long hair in that photograph they always print of you. I know it was taken years ago, but-I'm sorry. I'm babbling. It's just that your work has meant a lot to me."

Jenner glowered at Lilly. "If I'd wanted her to know my name, I'd have told her myself."

"Lucky us," Lilly said to Molly. "We finally have a winner for our Mr. Charm pageant."

Molly tried to catch her breath. "That's all right. I understand. I'm sure lots of people try to violate your privacy, but-"

"Maybe you could skip the adulation and just lead the way to those pancakes."

She gulped some air. "Right this way. Sir."

"Perhaps you should fix crab cakes instead," Lilly said.

"I heard that," he muttered.

In the kitchen Molly pulled herself together enough to direct Lilly and Liam Jenner to the round table that sat in the bay. She raced to rescue the scrambled eggs she'd abandoned and toss them on a plate.

Kevin came through the door and glanced toward Lilly and Jenner but apparently decided not to ask any questions. "Are those eggs ready yet?"

She handed him the plates. "They're overdone. If Mrs. Pearson complains, charm her out of it. Would you bring in some coffee? We have kitchen guests. This is Liam Jenner."

Kevin nodded at the artist. "I heard in town that you had a house on the lake."

"And you're Kevin Tucker." For the first time Jenner smiled, and Molly was startled by the transformation of those craggy features. Very sexy indeed. Lilly noticed, too, although she didn't seem as impressed as Molly.

He stood and extended his hand. "I should have recognized you right away. I've been following the Stars for years."

As the two men shook, Molly watched the temperamental artist turn into a football fan. "You had a pretty good season."

"Could have been better."

"I guess you can't win them all."

As the conversation turned to the Stars, Molly gazed at the three of them. What an odd group of people to have come together in this isolated place. A football player, an artist, and a movie star.

Here on Gilligan's Isle.

She smiled and took the plates from Kevin, who seemed to be enjoying the conversation, then plopped them on a tray and delivered them to the dining room. Luckily there were no complaints about the eggs. She filled two mugs from the coffee urn, picked up an extra cream and sugar, and carried it all back to the kitchen.

Kevin was leaning against the pantry door ignoring Lilly while he spoke to Jenner. "… heard in town that lots of people are visiting Wind Lake hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Apparently you've been a boon to local tourism."

"Not by choice." Jenner took the coffee Molly set in front of him and leaned back in his chair. He looked easy in his skin, she thought. Solidly built, a little grizzled, an artist disguised as a rugged outdoorsman. "As soon as word got around that I'd built a house here, all kinds of idiots started showing up."

Lilly accepted the spoon Molly handed her and began stirring her coffee. "You don't seem to think much of your admirers, Mr. Jenner."

"They're impressed by my fame, not my work. They start babbling about how they're so honored to meet me, but three-quarters of them wouldn't know one of my paintings if it bit 'em on the ass."

As one who'd babbled, Molly couldn't let that pass. "Mamie in Earnest, painted in 1968, a very early watercolor." She poured out the batter onto the griddle. "An emotionally complex work with a deceptive simplicity of line. Tokens, painted around 1971, a dry brush watercolor. The critics hated it, but they were wrong. From 1996 to 1998 you concentrated on acrylics with the Desert Series. Stylistically, those paintings are a pastiche-postmodern eclecticism, classicism, with a nod toward the Impressionists that only you could have pulled off."