Chapter Ten.

The following Saturday morning Lorenda's schedule was just as busy as it had been the previous weekend-she was showing more vacation cabins to the same client, Albuquerque's newest symphony conductor. Her parents had lined up the appointments and had conveniently forgotten to mention the client's identity.

She rushed into the bathroom, already running late, and flipped on the shower to let the water heat up.

Mr. Daniel Summerall had seemed like a nice guy and a great catch. Professional. Good looking. More a gentle kind of guy and really well dressed in a trendy sport coat and dress shirt left unbuttoned at the top. All the things Lorenda should want if she were looking for a relationship.

But she hadn't been the least bit attracted to him.

A fact her mother hadn't stopped harping on all week. "Give it some time. Get to know him," her mother had said. Over. And over. Every day since last Saturday.

Lorenda stuck her hand under the running shower only to jerk it back when the icy water bit into her skin. She turned the knob labeled "H" wide open. All that came out was freezing water.

Sierra. Mitchell had tinkered with the hot water heater last week. As nice as it was to have someone around the house to do the heavy lifting, it looked like she'd still have to give Al's Plumbing a call. Delta. No time for that today. She had to meet Mr. Summerall at the first listing in less than an hour, and she was all sweaty from a morning run. She couldn't be late, and she couldn't show up smelling like a gym. She wanted that sale, because she could use a small portion of it for her music program.

Plus she hadn't mustered the nerve to bring up the music program during her last appointment with Mr. Summerall, even though her parents had already laid the groundwork for her. She was such a chicken.

She skittered across the slate tile and grabbed a plush moss-green towel off the rack, wrapped it around her, and darted through her bedroom and down the stairs. Trevor and Jaycee were spending the day with her parents, so with virtually no knowledge of how water heaters or plumbing worked, she tried the boys' shower.

No luck.

Next she tried the kitchen sink. Again, freezing. She'd hose off outside if it meant getting at least enough lukewarm water to rinse the sweat off.

She cracked the door and peeked outside to see if all was clear before checking the water temperature from the hose. And thank the shower gods, Mitchell's truck was gone.

She chewed her lip. The apartment had its own water heater, which meant a hot shower was waiting. Calling to her. Daring her to finally open the door that separated her bedroom from Mitchell's private quarters.

It was rude to invade Mitchell's privacy, even if she did own the place. But it was her last option before she was stuck washing off with as much class as the dog.

She charged back inside the house, up the stairs, and straight to that door. The door she'd wanted to open for days. The door she'd dreamed of busting through. The door her brain told her to barricade shut just to keep herself from the temptation. One hand rested on the brushed nickel knob, and the other held the towel in place at her chest.

She probably shouldn't. But she couldn't spend the day with a client without a shower, especially since she'd run an extra mile this morning.

Her body heated in places it shouldn't at the thought of opening that door. Like she'd be crossing a threshold and there would be no going back.

Gah! That was stupid. Mitchell wasn't home.

With a turn of the knob, the lock clicked open and she walked in. Napping on the old sofa, Malarkey's head popped up and he whined.

She came to a halt with a skid.

Huh. Mitchell usually took the dog with him. Which meant he would probably be back soon.

That spurred her into motion. If she hurried, she could grab a quick shower, then hightail it back to her side of the door before Mitchell got home from wherever he'd gone. She crossed the small apartment, rounded the corner, and hustled through the open bathroom door.

Right into a hard, wet wall of muscle.

"Oof!" She collided with Mitchell, and every last drop of air whooshed out of her lungs. She tried to blink away the black spots in front of her eyes, because, holy mother of God, all that male hotness was darn near blinding. He was naked except for dog tags and a white towel draped around his waist. Nope, no water heater problems here, because steam swirled around the bathroom and right off of Mitchell's rock-hard body. Thousands of droplets slid over his sleek build and sparkled under the light. She tried to pull back, slipped on a towel that was on the bathroom floor, and stumbled.

The ceramic sink rushed up at her, so by instinct-or idiocy for being in Mitchell's apartment to begin with-she let go of the towel to keep from cracking open her head.

Quick reflexes and all, Mitchell did the exact same thing. His towel dropped to the floor along with hers as he caught her and hauled her against his firm, slick body. Oh, she really liked firm and slick. Had forgotten how much she liked it.

She slipped a forearm over her breasts just before she landed against his chest. "Oh my God, I thought you were gone!" She should step away. But then he'd see her naked from head to sweaty toes instead of just the up-close-and-personal angle above her forearm.

"I pulled Cam's truck around back to change the oil." His arms settled around her waist, calloused hands causing a tidal wave of lust to riot through her entire body.

Dear Lord.

They were completely naked. At the same time. In the same room.

With the light on!

Panic mushroomed through her chest, squeezing her lungs so tight she was afraid to take a breath. But instead of scrambling for her towel, she whispered, "The water heater went out in the house."

"I figured it would." His voice turned to gravel, and his eyes darkened. "Your plumbing needs some attention. Mine's just fine."

Obviously. Everything looked just fine here. And how could he make plumbing sound so sexy?

Unless that lusty tone in his voice was just her imagination . . . or her fantasy. Maybe she should slap herself to see if she was dreaming.

Because he looked even better in his real-life birthday suit than he had in many, many of her dreams. The plumbing that was pressing into her belly and growing firmer by the second was solid and fully functional. All hot-blooded male flesh. All hers, if she wanted it.

Grab the towel and run!

Her feet seemed to be glued to the floor because they didn't move. When she pulled a lip between her teeth, the generous firmness against her belly turned to granite, and he moaned. Moaned!

Which caused her to forget the towels pooled at their feet. Instead, she uncrossed her arm and let her needy nipples-which matched his granite plumbing in firmness-press into him. At least they were on the same page.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world, she sank both hands into his damp hair and pulled him into a red-hot, openmouthed kiss. With tongues and everything. And, oh God, his taste, his touch, his heated breath washing over her as she angled her mouth against his to give him better access was so, so yummy.

She deepened the kiss and pressed her full length against him. That produced another moan, this one so deep his chest rumbled against her breasts, and Lorenda thought she might orgasm right there.

His roughened hands caressed up her back until she did a little moaning too. Okay, a lot of moaning, because, holy sierra, Lorenda loved being in his arms. So strong, so dependable, so safe.

So talented at the moment.

She broke the kiss to nip at the wetness on his neck. When she let her tongue slip through her swollen lips to lick at the small space where his corded neck met a muscled shoulder, he growled. Pushed her back a fraction and leaned forward to cover one of her peaked nipples with his hot mouth. Anchored his hands to her hips and guided her backward to the sink. Then both of his large palms slid down and around until they cupped her ass.

Without warning, he lifted her to sit on the edge of the counter. She squeaked as he stepped between her legs, his shaft pressing against her throbbing center.

"Sparky," he rasped out. "I need to get protection." He tried to step away, but she pulled him back, clamped her legs around his firm, perfectly formed butt, and held him tight.

"Not yet." She trailed soft, sweet kisses across his chest, and his breath hissed out.

"You keep that up and we won't need protection," he said through gritted teeth, one hand pressing into the small of her back like he wanted to melt their bodies together skin to skin.

"Kiss me again." She wanted to feel his warm mouth against hers, feel his hot body wrapped with hers for a little bit longer before they . . .

He wound a handful of hair into his hand and angled her head so that they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Perfect together.

Her hand brushed over the metal dog tags hanging around his neck, and the coldness of the metal and all they represented seeped into her fingers. A chill sliced bone deep, even though the air was thick with steamy heat.

Her head snapped back, and she tried to blink the glaze from her vision. "Mitchell." She swallowed, staring up into his chocolaty eyes. His were just as glazed over with lust as hers must've been.

She couldn't do this. He was everything she didn't need. Everything she didn't want. But her girl parts were screaming for more. And his muscled chest, and handsome face, and sultry eyes, were drawing her in until she didn't think she could let go. Couldn't let go of what his body could do for hers. Couldn't let go of the need in his eyes that matched the need spiraling through her body. Couldn't let go of him.

This was insane!

The doubt must've shown in her expression, because Mitchell's eyes softened. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and stepped away to snatch up his towel. The crown-of-thorns tattoo undulated over the tension of his muscled bicep, then he turned his back and draped the towel around his waist.

"Go ahead and shower. I've got errands to run." He stopped. Looked over his shoulder like he wanted to say something but couldn't. "See you later, Sparky." He drew in a breath and walked out, leaving her to stare at a closed bathroom door.

Leaving her wanting him more than ever.

"This is one of our newer listings," Lorenda said to Daniel Summerall a little over an hour after she'd been naked with Mitchell. Discussing their plumbing.

She forced her toes to uncurl from the tips of her designer black pumps. One of the things Lorenda loved about her job was being able to dress up once in a while. Trade in Red River's standard dress code of jeans, thermals, and hiking boots to be a girly girl. Clothes, shoes, lingerie, and the way she decorated her cottage were all feminine and frilly and just for her. It was the way she filled the void of being single.

"It just came on the market earlier this week." She tried to sound personable yet professional. That was her job. She'd show him cabins for as long as it took for him to find something that felt like his. And somewhere in the process she had to work up the nerve to bring up the kids' music program.

She studied him as he wandered around the open floor plan. The brand-new cabin was built out with expensive rustic wood trim still rich with the woodsy scent of newness. Daniel was tall and slender, with sandy-blond hair, and he was dressed smart-casual like he'd just stepped off the cover of a men's fashion magazine. Perfect.

For someone else.

She guided him through the lower level, then over to the wooden staircase that led to a large loft and master suite. "Construction was recently finished. Never lived in."

"It's gorgeous," Daniel said, following her up the stairs.

Lorenda felt oddly self-conscious that he was eye level with her rump and resisted the urge to splay both hands across her butt to hide it from view. Her mother seemed to think he was very interested, and she had all but insisted that Lorenda throw herself at the man. Of course Mom had also fixed Lorenda up with Clifford the maintenance man.

Always nice when a gal's mother tried to pimp her out.

"The cabins I showed you last week were smaller and not as new." Lorenda reached the upstairs landing and turned left into the open loft. "They didn't seem to meet your needs. I wanted you to see this one so you could compare the two price ranges."

This cabin was more expensive. Larger than most, and on a generous parcel of land. She didn't like upselling her clients, but if it worked for him, then it was a win-win. The client would be satisfied and happy with his purchase, and she'd get a nice commission. The portion she planned to use for the music program would barely make a dent toward the cost of better equipment and supplies, but it was a start.

"A place like this is even more beautiful when trimmed out with the right furnishings. I can steer you toward some interior decorators who specialize in decorating vacation cabins to look artful and rustic at the same time." She led him into the master suite.

He followed her into the large bedroom, which had a stone fireplace nestled into the corner. "Hiring a decorator would be my choice. I don't have a lot of time, but I do have the budget to pay someone to do it for me. I'd want it decorated with quality furnishings for entertaining guests."

Wow. Every girl's dream. A man with money who was a sharp dresser and appreciated home furnishings. Too bad she couldn't stop thinking about the naked alpha guy whose standard wardrobe consisted of combat boots, worn Levi's, and plain black T-shirts that came in packages of three.

She opened the large walk-in closet while Daniel checked out the bathroom. When he rejoined her in the bedroom, she said, "It's a lot of square footage and a lot of acreage for the money, if that's what you're looking for."

He leaned against the wall, bent one knee, and sank both hands into the pockets of his expensive-looking dress pants. The top two buttons of his pinstriped dress shirt were unbuttoned, revealing the hint of a slender but toned chest.

"I like it. It's definitely closer to what I'm looking for." His appreciative gaze drifted over her.

She swallowed.

His stare darted to the double French glass doors that opened onto a large redwood deck.

Great opportunity to change the subject. "The view from this room is spectacular."

"It certainly is." His gaze darted back to her.

She ignored the tightening in her stomach and motioned for him to follow her onto the deck. "A purchase like this is a big commitment. You may want to think about it." She shrugged. "And look at it a time or two before making a decision."

Was she actually trying to dissuade a sale of this magnitude? What in God's name was wrong with her? Stupid question, because she knew exactly what was wrong. She didn't want to give the man the wrong impression. The impression that she wanted more than to be his realtor. The impression that she might be available. The impression that she wasn't already developing feelings for someone else who happened to share her house and her last name.

Obviously, she needed to keep her impressions to herself, because she was sounding a little pathetic.

He turned back toward the doors and propped himself against the railing, crossing his legs at the ankles.

"Your parents tell me you're a musician, Lorenda," he said casually.

"Um, yes. I am." She moved to the far side of the deck.

"And you're starting a free music program for children?"

"Yes."

"So why haven't you brought it up? This is our second meeting." His gray eyes locked onto hers.

"Well, I-" she stammered. Drew in a breath, and decided to go for honest. "I wanted to keep it professional."

He let a few moments of silence go by like he was thinking on that. Finally he nodded. "I understand."

He did? Oh thank the Virgin Mary she wouldn't have to explain that he wasn't her type. Even though he should be.

Gah!

He brushed a fallen leaf aside with a posh leather dress shoe. "Music programs of any kind aren't cheap. My biggest concern is your lack of experience."

He wasn't the only one. Bart had pointed out that she might need help.

"But your willingness to do this on a volunteer basis demonstrates your love of music, and I like that."

Now they were getting somewhere. Her innate, soul-deep love of music was the reason she needed to do this. She held her breath and waited for him to finish.

"So I'll tell you what."

What? What!

"If you can put together a written plan explaining how you intend to build the program and allocate funds, then pull together a concert for the kids using the equipment you already have, I'll consider putting my support behind your program."