"You need to kick back and let life pass you by for a couple of weeks."

"Doctor's orders?"

"Yes," she said. "You'll feel rejuvenated. I promise."

She was worried about him. He could see it in her eyes. Lord, she was sweet. And what was he going to do about that? He was beginning to like her a hell of a lot more than he'd anticipated.

"And if you decide to go back to Boston, you'll have anew attitude."

"If I go back?"

"I meant when you go back," she corrected.

He didn't want to think about Boston or work or his future or anything else for that matter, and that was so unlike him. He was

a planner, always had been for as long as he could remember, but now he didn't want to plan anything. He wanted to do exactly what Michelle had suggested. Kick back and let the world pass him by.

"It's funny," he remarked.

"What is?"

"You… me. It's like fate threw us together."

She smiled. "You're a contradiction, Theo. A lawyer with a romantic side. Who would have thought that was possible?"

Theo decided to lighten the mood. Michelle was so easy and fun to tease and gave as good as she got. He liked embarrassing

her. The esteemed doctor could blush with the best of them.

"You know what else I thought when I met you?" he asked with a playful grin.

"No, what?" she asked suspiciously.

"You were sexy. Real sexy."

"Oh." The word came out with a sigh.

" 'Oh,' what?"

Oh, boy. "The baggy green surgical scrubs, right? The outfit's a real turn-on."

"That cute little mask hid your best feature."

"My freckles?"

"No, your mouth."

Oh, boy. Oh, boy. Theo certainly knew how to flirt. He could make her squirm and pant at the same time.

She smiled sweetly. "You haven't seen my best feature yet."

He raised an eyebrow in that wonderful Cary Grant way she loved. "Yeah?" he drawled. "Now you've got me curious.

You're not going to tell me what your best feature is, are you?"

"No."

"You want me to spend half the night thinking about it?"

She hoped he would. She hoped he'd squirm a little too, just the way she did every time he looked at her. She knew she

wasn't going to get much rest tonight. Why should she be the only one sleep deprived? Tit for tat, she thought. She was

suddenly feeling quite pleased with herself. Theo might have been the master at sexual banter, but she was finally feeling as though she was holding her own. She wasn't such a neophyte after all.

You mess with me and you pay theconsequences.

"You want to fool around?" he asked.

She laughed. "No."

"If you're sure…"

"I'm sure."

"Then maybe you'd better button your top."

She glanced down at her chest and let out a loud groan. The silk pajama top was completely undone. Damn those silk buttons. They never stayed put. Her breasts were covered, though just barely. Mortified, she frantically rebuttoned.

Her face was bright pink when she looked at him. "Why didn't you say something?"

"Are you kidding? Why would I want to do that? I liked it. And don't look at me that way. I didn't unbutton the thing. I'm an innocent bystander."

She sat back on her heels while she put her robe on. "I'm going to bed. Thanks for the massage. It helped."

He leaned forward, cupped the sides of her face and kissed her. Her mouth was so soft and warm and sweet. She tasted like peppermint. He took his time coaching a response, trying not to rush her.

There hadn't been time to prepare. She hadn't realized he was going to kiss her until his lips were touching hers. She didn't

resist. She should have, but she didn't. Her lips parted, and then he deepened the kiss and she went limp.

She was his for the taking and both of them knew it.

He abruptly pulled back. "Sweet dreams."

"What?"

"Good night."

"Oh. Yes, I'm going to bed."

There was a definite twinkle in his eyes. He knew what he'd just done to her. She'd all but melted in front of him. Lord, what would happen if they made love? She'd probably have a complete mental breakdown.

How could he turn it on and off so quickly and efficiently? Experience and discipline, she decided as she stood and walked out

of the room. Years and years of experience and discipline. She, on the other hand, apparently had the discipline of a rabbit. One kiss and she was ready to have his babies.

God, she was disgusting. And did he have to be such a great kisser? She shoved her hair out of her face. Mr. Big City was

going to eat her alive if she didn't get a handle on her emotions. She wasn't an innocent. She'd been in a relationship before, and

at the time, she'd believed she was going to marry the man. He hadn't kissed the way Theo had, though, and he hadn't made her feel so alive and desirable.

The big jerk. Michelle tripped on the hem of her robe going up the stairs. As soon as she reached her bedroom, she threw the

robe on a chair. Then she got into bed. She stayed there about five seconds, got up again, and went downstairs.

Theo was back at the desk, typing on his laptop.

"Listen, you." She came close to shouting.

"Yes?" he asked, his hands poised over the keyboard.

"I just want you to know…"

"What?"

"I'm a damned good surgeon. While you were out getting all that experience… screwing around, and I use that word

specifically…"

"Yes?" he asked, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

She poked herself in the chest. "I was busy learning how to use a scalpel. I just wanted you to know…"

"Know what?" he asked when she abruptly stopped.

Her mind went blank. Several seconds passed in silence. Her shoulders slumped and she said, "I don't know."

Without another word, she left the room.

Could she have made a bigger fool of herself? "I doubt that," she whispered as she got into bed. She felt like David going to

meet Goliath and forgetting to bring his slingshot. Letting out a loud groan, she rolled onto her stomach, pulled the pillow over her head, and closed her eyes.

He was making her nuts.

Monk hated surveillance. He stood in the shadows of a weeping willow watching Dr. Renard's house, waiting to make certain

she had gone to bed so he could return to his motel room and catch a few hours' sleep. He would have to listen to all the taped telephone calls first, of course. He rubbed his thigh as though to console himself because he'd torn his best pair of khakis

climbing the telephone pole when he'd placed the tap.

While he stood there, hour upon hour, waiting and watching, he thought about past assignments. He liked to go over each minute detail. He wasn't being ghoulish, and he certainly wasn't getting any perverse pleasure thinking about his victims. No, his goal

was to review his performance and then analyze it. What mistakes had he made? What could he do to improve himself?

He'd learned something from each job he'd taken. The wife in Biloxi kept a loaded gun under her pillow. If her husband knew about it, he'd failed to mention it to Monk. He had almost gotten his head blown off, but fortunately he'd been able to wrestle

the gun away from her. Then he'd used it to kill her instead of wasting valuable seconds trying to suffocate her. Expect the unexpected. That was the first lesson.

And then there was the teenager in Metairie. Monk's performance that night had been less than perfect, and looking back, he realized he had been lucky that no one had walked in on him. He'd stayed much too long. He should have left the second the

job was finished, but he watched a movie on television instead. What made that all the more remarkable was the fact that Monk