The afternoon sun shone with unusual firepower for a spring day in Maine. Gracie’s skin glowed pink around the edges of her tank top. Pausing to push the hair off her forehead with her wrist, she stretched upward with an arch of her back. The innocently erotic gesture left Dylan’s mouth watering.

The sudden surge of interest annoyed him. “You’re getting sunburned.”

She spun around at the sound of his voice. Her knee came down on the hose. The plastic tube undulated like an angry snake. Its nozzle spit water onto her face and chest.

“Well, shoot.” Moving her knee off the hose, she pulled the soaked material away from her skin. “Why is it that every time I’m around you I end up getting wet?”

And just like that, Dylan got hard. He rejected his first six responses. Any one of them was likely to earn him a slap in the face. “Basic chemistry?”

She scrunched her nose in puzzlement for a moment and then her eyes widened. “Not that kind of wet.”

Her grinned. “You need a towel?”

“No, thanks. The water feels good, and the sun will dry me off soon enough.” Turning back to her task, she picked up a trowel and a pink flower.

“People were planting those all over town.” He came to stand beside her.

“They’re begonias. It’s this year’s spring blossom.”

“For the annual festival?”

“Yep. It’s always the weekend before Memorial Day. It used to be just an ice-cream social for the town, but then someone came up with the idea of having a full-blown event.”

She worked as she talked, digging, planting, pressing the soil, scooting down a couple of inches, and starting the process again. Tendrils of hair escaped her French braid and curled on her neck and cheeks. Bees buzzed in and out of the colorful perennials, and a hummingbird sipped at a feeder suspended from the gazebo. Small birds flapped and chirped in a birdbath a few feet away while gulls soared high off in the distance.

Dylan felt a prickle in his brain and recognized this as one of those sensory moments that would stay tattooed on his memory forever. A freeze frame in the video of life that included feelings and scents, emotions and sounds. A déjà vu scene of perfect clarity that he would revisit in the years to come.

He had a few other mental snapshots that stayed in his brain. His father, windblown and sunburned, on their boat the summer before he died. His mother engrossed in a children’s theater performance of The Nutcracker Suite. Natalie with her newborn son. Uncle Arthur being sworn into office. At the peak of Mount Everest with The Brotherhood.

But those instances all involved significant people in his life. The idea of retaining the simple image of Gracie planting flowers made him squirm.

Looking up, she caught him staring. “You might make yourself useful. If the terms of your trust fund preclude getting dirt under your fingernails, there’s another pair of gloves by the wheelbarrow.”

Dylan took exception to her tone. Determined to dig the biggest and best hole she’d ever seen, he surprised them both by dropping to his knees beside her. “I’ve gotten my hands dirty before.”

He plunged the trowel into the soil, putting some muscle behind the motion. She leaned back on her heels to watch and admire. “I want to ask you about my sister’s pregnancy.”

“I’m not an obstetrician, you know.”

At the look of interest on her face, he dug deeper. “But you’re a doctor, right? And a woman. And I’m worried.”

“Then she should see her own doctor.”

“She did, but I want another opinion,”

“I won’t be able to determine anything from a third-party consultation…” Gracie shrugged. “Tell me what her problem is.”

“She’s about eight months pregnant. Until recently, she was skinny as a rail with a beach ball for a stomach. Now she’s having a sudden weight gain and lots of swelling.” He enlarged the hole’s circumference as Gracie’s fascination increased. “Does that sound normal?”

“Could be,” she said. “Or it could be an indication of certain conditions that are common in the last trimester.”

“Like what?” Even this little bit of activity managed to release some of his pent-up frustration. He dug with increased vigor.

Gracie shook her head. “It’s impossible and unethical to make a diagnosis without seeing her. I assume she’s getting pre-natal care from a reputable obstetrician.”

“Yes, but—”

“Wait a minute.” A gloved hand gripped his forearm.

He looked up from his task. “What?”

“That’s some hole.” She dislodged a plant from its plastic tray and held up the one-inch root ball for him to see.

Maybe he had been a tad enthusiastic. “Too big?”

“Not if you’re planning on burying a body in there.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Just yours.” He pushed her off balance and dumped her into the crater.

She floundered for a second like a turtle on its back then grabbed his shoulders. Instead of pulling herself free, she pulled him in on top of her. Accidentally, of course. He was sure she would never have done such a thing if she had guessed how intimately he would land and how instantly he’d respond to the feel of her beneath him. No sharp or bony edges to her. She was all woman, with soft, round, voluptuous flesh—except for the bullet-hard nipples pressing into his chest.

“Let me up.”

“Not a chance.” He gave her a slow smile, rocking his hips against hers.

While he considered all the things he’d like to do to her, her arms flailed at her sides, and she gasped for breath. He eased his weight off her slightly just for the fun of watching her breasts expand when she filled her lungs with air.

For a second, their eyes met. Hers seemed to soften and invite him closer, to give him unspoken permission to explore the body beneath him. Her neck stretched upward, bringing her mouth within an inch of his.

“Oh, Dylan.” Her voice hitched on a breathy little sigh. Her eyelids fluttered downward, giving him the impression of a woman too shy to ask for what she wanted. Funny. He’d never pictured her as shy before.

“Gracie...”  He bent forward the extra inch. “Are you sure about this?”

“Completely.” Her lips curved into a winsome smile.

Something stiff and cold brushed against his neck. Almost simultaneously, certainly too soon for him to avoid it, she stuffed the garden hose down the back of his shirt and drenched him with chilling water.

He jerked up, releasing her.

Laughing, she jumped out of reach and gripped the hose in one hand. “Oops, sorry!”

“You’ll pay for that!” Two long strides took him to her, but she danced away, wielding the hose like a sword.

She darted behind the garden bench. Grabbing hold of her shoulders, he planted one foot on the bench, intending to step over it. As he lifted his other foot off the ground, MacDuff latched onto his pant leg and growled.

“Easy, boy,” he commanded, but the dog’s spirited defense continued. “Call him off.”

“He’ll quit if you let go of me.”

Dylan removed one hand from her shoulder to pet MacDuff and remind him of their friendship. But the dog snarled, and Dylan resigned himself to losing this round. He squared his shoulders and prepared himself for the blast. “Spray me and get it over with.”

Her face fell. “It’s no fun if you ask for it.”

“Then, let’s call a truce. We’re both wet. Turn off the water, and I’ll let go of you.”

Gracie twisted the nozzle on the hose. “Truce.”

He took his hand from hers, and MacDuff released his hold.

Gracie laid the hose down out of range for both of them. “If you’re finished disrupting my day, I need to get back to work.”

Like it was all his fault. All right, maybe it was. But damn, she brought out something in him that he’d misplaced a long time ago. Innocent child-like fun and a fresh perspective on the people and events around him.

She squatted down to push the displaced dirt back into the hole. He knelt beside her to help. Although the tip of her tongue peeked out between her lips, she remained aloof and wary. He definitely didn’t want that. He wanted to see her smile, see her laugh. See her naked.