Larry spun out of his son's grip, then lurched toward Lucio. You have no right to be in my home, he said, waving around one of the cans. I didn't build this place from the ground up so that some greasy Italian pretty boy could come in here and put his hands on my wife and take pictures of my dog and pretend to be some kind of fucking mentor to my boys! They don't need a father figure! They have me!

Of course, Lucio said.

Larry was not done. That's my dog you're talking about, Fabio! My wife! My boys! My house! His face became flushed. Just who the hell do you think you are? You'll never fit into Larry Garrison's shoes!

Joshua went to his father's other side. Together, the teenagers dragged him down the hall to the door. Larry, however, wanted one last word, and managed to swivel free again. He straightened an arm and glared down the barrel of the empty can pointed directly at Lucio. I've never trusted Italians, he said.

I have always felt fortunate to be a Spaniard, Lucio said.

Same thing, Larry said.

At that instant, little HeatherLynn decided to join the party. She toddled up to Larry, stretching out her front paws while raising her rump, then let go with a big, wide yawn.

See? Larry said, nodding toward the dog with pride. She knows I'm her master.

With that, the little doggie sniffed at Larry's loafer, then squatted, shooting a hard and straight stream of urine directly onto the shoe's squared leather toe. Then she ran into the sitting room and dove under the sofa.

Larry was in shock. The only sound he made was a high squeak of disbelief as he raised his foot above the puddle. The boys turned him around and led him out the door and down the drive, walking right past a shiny new black Porsche convertible in the driveway. The boys were smart not to let him get behind the wheel.

We'll be back in a few minutes, Mom! Josh called out.

While they watched the boys navigate their father down the sidewalk, Lucio draped an arm over Genevieve's shoulder.

She sighed, curling her arm around his waist. Well, you've just met my former husband, Dr. Lawrence Hutchins Garrison the Third. He's the chief of urology at University Hospital.

Lucio nodded. In those shoes, he most certainly is.

She laughed. You know, Larry's not a horrible guy not all the time, anyway. He was in rare form tonight, and I'm sorry you had to see him like that.

Lucio leaned into Genevieve and hugged her tight to his side. I have seen most of life's grand spectacle, bonita. I can handle one drunk and disorderly ex-husband.

She looked him square in the eye. Are you sure about that?

I am sure.

What about two wild fifteen-year-old boys? Genevieve asked.

They are good kids. I look forward to getting to know them.

And a badly behaved bichon frise?

She has extremely good aim.

And me? A forty-year-old, jobless, menopausal crone?

Lucio would not laugh at her, no matter how preposterous she sounded. Ridicule was the last thing she needed. So he turned and gathered Genevieve into his arms, pressed her head to his shoulder, and held her tight against him.

Be still, Genevieve, he whispered to her. Lean against me and be still a moment.

Lucio inhaled the sweet fragrance of her hair, smiling to himself. Who, really, had he been advising with those words? Genevieve, or himself? Lucio felt her heart beat against him and her breath against his neck. Could it be that after all the years of adventureall the exotic locations he'd seen and all the people he'd encounteredthat he'd finally found a place where he wanted to be still? All he knew was there had never been a woman who touched his heart the way Genevieve had, or presented a challenge that called to him so clearly.

He could feel the upheaval as it swept through him. The elements of his universe were being jumbled, rearranged. Right at that moment.

Possibly forever.

Of course there would be his work. There would always be his work. He could not imagine a world without the light and the lens. There was his reputation to save, the Erskine Prize to hold in his hands, and money to make. And soon, he would track down whoever had messed with him and get the justice he deserved.

But all those things had just been bumped down in importance, replaced by this beautiful woman with the damaged spirit and two boys on the verge of manhood.

Genevieve's ex-husband had it so very wrong. Jason and Joshua did need a father figure in their livesone who wasn't a self-centered buffoon. Genevieve most definitely needed the touch of a man who adored her, the encouragement of a man who believed in her. Perhaps then she'd be able to see her own strength and beauty.

But the last thing Lucio intended to do was step into Larry's pissed-upon shoes.

He would make his own way.

About a half hour later, Lucio finished the last of his espresso. The sun had set, leaving the backyard in shadows. Ginger knew the boys would be busting through the front door at any minute and she was fidgety. She could barely look at Lucio sitting there, across from her at the outdoor patio table, his dark eyes penetrating her soul, his long and muscular body stretched out in one of her wrought-iron chairs.

I really wish you didn't have to go, she told him, her voice sounding embarrassingly breathless.

I don't want to go, but I think it's best if I don't force my presence on your sons. I don't want them to feel threatened in any way.

She sighed, knowing she should be grateful that Lucio was concerned about her sons' well-being. He was a sweet man. So kind. So understanding. So why did she want to scream?

Because if she didn't get his naked sex-panther body in her bed in the next five minutes she'd die.

No! Keep it together, Ginger. She ran a hand across her forehead in angst. How horrible would it be for her sons to come home and hear her squealing and panting in pleasure, behind her locked bedroom door? Because that's what she'd be doingno question about it. With Lucio Montevez, there would be plenty of squealing and panting involved.

She began to perspire. Another hot flash, no doubt.

We have plenty of time, bonita. Lucio brushed his fingertip down her forearm. We will take our time with each other, savor each other. The next time your sons are staying with their father, we will spend the entire day togetherthe entire weekend. We will start this right.

Naked. Hot and thoroughly naked and pushing up against her, nudging hard into her body.

Ginger let out a desperate little squeak.

I am impatient, too, Lucio said, cradling her hand. But how many times have we gotten started only to have to stop? The Host! If that happens one more time I think I will explode!

Ginger swallowed. Tell me about it. I'm afraid if that happens again something will break and it will never work right again.

Lucio laughed. The sound of his laughter was one of the most joyous things Ginger had ever heard. She wanted to wrap herself up in his laugh and roll around in it. Naked.

Stop!

She groaned in exasperation as she got up from the patio table. Maybe you should just go. She gathered the demitasse cups and saucers and they rattled around in her unsteady grip. This is torture. I'm coming unglued.

Ginger headed into the house, Lucio following. He held open the French doors for her, and she could feel the energy zapping from his body into hers, the way it did whenever he was close. And he was very close at that moment. Inches from her back. This was crazy, she thought. She walked faster. She reached the kitchen counter. He was still right behind her.

She set the dishes in the sink. He was on her. Up against her. She felt his hands cup her hips, then slide across her belly, his palms and fingers cradling her. She felt him, hard and long and pressing up against her bottom.