Lauren grinned impishly. “Don’t you know it’s five o’clock somewhere? But, hey, if you can’t handle a cervesa this early I’ll whip up some tequila sunrises instead. Or would your delicate tummy prefer a mug of hot cocoa instead? Fresh out of mini marshmallows, though.”

Her green eyes were sparkling with a truly evil twinkle and he couldn’t help laughing – something else he didn’t do very often. “Okay, you’ve talked – no, make that shamed – me into it. Beer it is. Just as long as it isn’t light beer,” he cautioned.

She gave him a look of horrified disbelief. “Two words that should never be uttered in the same sentence – light and beer,” she scoffed. “I’ve got Corona, Sierra Nevada, and Guinness. And fresh limes that I picked yesterday from my dad’s garden.”

“Well, then, can’t let those go to waste, can we? Corona it is.”

As they left the loft, Ben paused a moment to grab the blue and gold UCLA hoodie that had been carelessly flung over the back of the sofa. Once downstairs he tentatively held it out to Lauren.

“Um, do you think you could, uh, put this on maybe?” he stammered uncertainly.

Lauren glanced up at him with an odd expression. “Why? If I was cold I would have covered up as soon as I got back from surfing.”

“Surfing. Guess that explains this.” He gestured at her bikini clad torso.

She took two ice cold bottles of beer from the fridge, popped the caps off, and then pushed a lime wedge inside. “Is the sight of my cleavage disturbing you?” she drawled while handing him a beer. “Is that why you want me to bundle up like it’s thirty degrees outside?”

Ben, who also rarely blushed, once again felt his cheeks grow hot and he tried like hell not to stutter. “Um, disturbing isn’t the word I’d use. Distracting is more like it.”

Lauren laughed in delight. “Well, God forbid that I distract you. So, here, let me cover up the goods.”

She grabbed a T-shirt that had been draped over the back of a living room chair and pulled it on. “Is this a little less distracting?”

The snug fitting white T-shirt emblazoned with the logo of a popular alternative rock band was distracting in a whole different way than the polka dot bikini top. The worn, faded fabric clung to her breasts like a second skin, and the short, cropped hem bared half of her toned, tanned abs.

He gulped before taking a long drink of his beer. “Not really, no. Sure you won’t wear the sweatshirt? Or maybe a bathrobe?”

Lauren snickered, sauntering over to him, beer in hand. Then she shocked him by grabbing a handful of his own T-shirt and tugging him in close. “Or you could just loan me your shirt,” she murmured in a husky, suggestive voice. “Unlike you, I’m not the least bit bothered by a little bare skin. Come on, let’s sit out on the deck and drink these. It’s too nice a day to stay indoors.”

He followed her outside, propping his forearm against the deck railing, and gazing out once again at the jaw dropping view.

Ben shook his head in amazement. “You know, I’ve done a lot of traveling over the past ten years or so, seen some pretty incredible sights along the way. But this – ” he waved a hand, encompassing the trees, the ocean, the redwood and glass cabin – “is pretty much my idea of paradise. I think if this was mine I’d never want to leave.”

She smiled – really smiled – and he could tell how much pleasure his words had given her. “I feel exactly the same way. I’m already dreading going back to school in a few weeks, and I know I’ll be counting the days until I can come home. And this place – for me – has always been home, even though I’ve spent most of my life living up the road in Carmel.” She took a long swallow of her beer before setting it down on the railing. “I made my father promise to never sell this place, to always keep it in the family. And I know that no matter where I travel or work or might have to live on occasion, that I’ll always want to come back here. That it will always be home.”

“I envy you,” he admitted. “To have a place like this to come back to – you’re a lucky girl, Lauren.”

“What about you?” she inquired. “When you aren’t trespassing on private property, where do you call home?”

He shook his head, smiling. “You’ll never let me live that down, will you? And to answer your question, I don’t actually have a place of my own right now, not for more than a year. I’ve been traveling around, crashing with friends here and there, renting cheap motel rooms or camping. Believe it or not, I’m packing a tent and sleeping bag on my motorcycle. Fortunately, I tend to travel light so there’s room for them.”

“Hmm.” Lauren finished off her beer as she processed what he’d just told her. “So you’re just passing through here? What’s the next stop for you?”

“I’ll head further down the coast. I’ve been slowly working my way south from the Olympic Peninsula in Washington, plan to wind up the trip in San Diego. But I was figuring on staying in this area for a few days, maybe exploring Carmel and Monterey a bit.”

“Ah.” She nodded as she tossed the empty bottle into a plastic garbage can that had been appropriated for recycling. “Where are you staying?”

He shrugged. “Haven’t figured that out just yet. Any suggestions?”

Lauren gave a quick hoot of laughter. “Yeah. Go back in time about five or six months and make a reservation. Guess whatever research you did – or more likely, didn’t do – on this area didn’t cover the fact that summers are ridiculously crowded. Everything’s bound to have been booked solid for months, even the campgrounds.”

“Shit.” He ran a hand through his close-cropped dark blond hair. “You’re right. I didn’t do my research properly. But since I haven’t had any problems so far along the way, I guess I figured it wouldn’t be any different here.”

Lauren tapped a finger against her chin thoughtfully. “Tell you what. I’ll make a few calls, see if we can’t find you a room or campsite somewhere. I know every innkeeper and park ranger in the area.”

But five phone calls later, she was shaking her head. “Unless you’re willing to plunk down a thousand bucks for a room at the Ventana Inn, looks like you’re out of luck.”

Ben grimaced. “Yeah, that’s not likely to be in the budget. Ever. Guess I’ll just keep heading down the coast and maybe find a campground a little further south. Hey, thanks for trying at least. Not to mention the beer. And especially for the photo that’s going to sell that article.”

He placed his empty bottle in the recycling can just as a small but astonishingly firm hand clamped around his forearm.

“Wait. Look, I don’t know why I didn’t suggest this earlier,” said Lauren. “You’re welcome to crash here for a few days. This place is the perfect base if you want to explore Carmel and Monterey, plus there’s some great hidden spots just south of here. And no one knows this area better than I do, so I could be like your tour guide. What do you say?”

Ben was also not a man who was caught off guard very often, but Lauren’s unexpected, rather impulsive offer did just that. “Uh, that’s not necessary,” he stammered. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

She snorted, a decidedly unfeminine sound. “As if I’d let anyone impose on me, invited or not. Besides, you’ll be earning your keep – doing the dishes, helping me walk and feed the dogs, taking out the trash.”

He hesitated. “Why would you want to stick your neck out that way, Lauren? You don’t even know me, just met me an hour ago.”

Lauren squeezed his forearm. “I know enough. I know you’re drawn to this house the same way I am. So here’s your chance to hang out here for a few days. Or however long you want to stay.”

Their gazes locked and held – dark blue staring down into emerald green – and in her eyes Ben recognized the exact same sort of physical awareness, the undeniable sexual attraction that he’d been experiencing from the moment he’d first met her.