Liberty House exuded the serenity of an English country manor. Sweet-smelling flowers bloomed along the walk and in window boxes. Crocks of bright geraniums decorated the front porch along with sturdy benches and bentwood rockers. The house stood high on a headland with the relentless sound of the nearby ocean crashing against the granite shore.

The well-maintained establishment was obviously someone’s pride and joy. He bet that if he complimented Mrs. Lattimer on the beauty of her home and livelihood, she’d be eating out of his hand in no time. The older woman had definitely been a softer touch than the younger one. With any luck, Granny would answer the door, and Gracie would be out of sight. If not, he’d be looking for another place to spend the night. Again.

Gracie’s refusal to rent him a room baffled him. Women usually gave him anything he wanted before he even asked. After a mini-pep talk, he hauled himself out of the car and onto the porch. When Gracie answered the doorbell, he somehow didn’t feel as unlucky as he’d expected.

The night before, the fiery brilliance of her wholesome beauty would have appealed to him more if she hadn’t been so infuriatingly disagreeable. This afternoon, as the sun streamed across the threshold, she glowed with a healthy vitality he seldom encountered in the city.

Her vibrant hair was pulled into a casual topknot. Curling wisps escaped here and there, softening the dramatic lines of her cheek and jaw while emphasizing flashing brown eyes. Her delicate nose stopped just short of an upward tilt, and a scatter of freckles dotted otherwise flawless skin. A smudge of blue paint replaced last night’s streak of grease. The plump bow-shaped mouth curved downward in counterpoint to the determined lift of her chin.

A green surgical shirt and matching cut-off pants covered her gorgeous flesh. No medical professional of his acquaintance filled out a pair of scrubs so well. He took all of it in with a glance, but his body—jaded to the gaunt figures of fashion models and society debs—responded with swift, unexpected pleasure to Gracie’s lush, womanly curves.

Granted, he’d been too preoccupied to take any of his regular partners to bed in the last few weeks, but that was out of choice, not necessity. With his sudden interest bordering on the obnoxious, he turned away and stared across the sweep of lawn while he reined in his untimely erection. Down, boy.

“Well, if you didn’t want to see me, you shouldn’t have knocked on my door,” Gracie said from behind him.

The husky quality of her voice lured him further into the quicksand of desire, but her words grated like sandpaper. Now he remembered what he disliked about her.

Everything… Except her luscious body.

He dared a brief look at her over his shoulder. “I came to see your grandmother.”

“Too bad.” What secret did she hide behind that impudent grin? And why did it make her mouth so tempting? So kissable? “Gran’s not home. Why do you want to see her?”

Leaning against the porch rail, he faced her and concentrated on Gracie’s flawed personality rather than her perfect form. “I want to talk to her about renting a room.”

“Admit it.” Gracie crossed her arms under generous breasts that lifted and swelled. If she kept on flaunting herself like that, he’d be forced to turn away from her again. “You thought she’d be easier to talk into giving you a room than I would.”

He’d be damned before he’d admit anything of the kind. “I need somewhere to set up my laptop until I can get the water and electricity turned on at the cabin.” Both utility companies had told him it would be a week before he could expect service. But he had no intention of divulging those details to Gracie.

“So you don’t want to sleep here?”

“No, I want that, too.”

“What about the Granite Inn?” Amusement softened the challenge in her voice. “Didn’t it meet the high Bradford standards?”

The Granite Inn barely met the standards of a wild boar. He scratched his chin through the new goatee he’d mistakenly started growing as a disguise. Everywhere he’d been this morning, people had recognized him. Not that his identity had earned him any preferential treatment. Just the opposite, in fact. He’d gotten a cold shoulder more often than not. “Liberty House is more convenient for overseeing renovations at the cabin.”

At the word “renovations,” she tilted her head to the side and more tendrils escaped her topknot. “You really intend to fix up the place?”

“That’s the plan.”

As she opened her mouth to respond, a crash and a woof interrupted them. Gracie turned and made a dash for the stairs. “MacDuff!”

Dylan followed the flash of legs as she disappeared up the steps. After crossing the spacious entry and climbing the wide stairway, he took a left at the split landing, trailing her voice to a door at the end of the hall.

Canvas drop cloths covered most of the room. Sky-blue paw tracks decorated most of the drop cloths. Gracie scooped the dog out of the paint pan, petting and scolding him.

Meanwhile, Dylan checked out her legs.

For years, he’d maintained a mental list of World-Class Legs. The criterion for inclusion was brief with length-of-leg being the primary factor. After his first glance at Gracie’s, he’d have to revise the list and the criteria on her behalf. Length became secondary. Shape became all-important.

Even her slender bare feet, arched provocatively on the rough canvas, conjured toe-sucking fantasies. Well-turned ankles glided upward into luscious calves. Normally, no matter how great the legs, points were deducted for knees. Gracie gained points for hers. Smooth and rounded, dimpled skin rose to a playground of sinewy thigh that awakened dark, erotic thoughts.

And while her skin looked as soft and supple as satin, the muscles underneath flexed with the definition of a practiced equestrienne. The mental image of those thighs gripping the flanks of a spirited mount made his stomach clench with desire all over again. Damn.

“You are such a bad boy,” Gracie rebuked.

Chapter Five

Dylan’s head jerked upward before he realized she was chastising the dog, not him. The Scottie looked up at Gracie with adoring eyes. She encouraged his non-repentance with a friendly ear scratching as she cuddled him to her chest. “Now look what you’ve done.”

“You shouldn’t have left him in here alone.” Dylan envied the dog and his position between Gracie’s breasts.

“Go away,” she huffed. “I’m busy.”

He crossed his arms and lounged against the doorframe. “I think I’ll wait to talk to your grandmother.”

“She won’t be home until later. You’re welcome to come back and try to persuade her to let you stay, but I don’t have time for this.”

As she brushed past him, he stopped her with a hand on her arm. The innocent touch shot a jolt of fire to the same stomach muscles that had barely had time to unclench. Didn’t she feel the heat that sparked between them? If so, she managed to ignore her reaction to it.

“It’ll be easier if you just agree now.”

“For you, maybe, but not for me or Gran. Just look.” A sweeping gesture of her arm indicated the state of the room. “This isn’t the only one of Granddad’s chores left unfinished. I’ll have my hands full getting the rest of them done before we open this weekend. Visiting at the hospital has Gran behind schedule, too. If you move in, that will add to her regular work and she’ll feel obliged to prepare meals. It’s too much for her right now.”

Surely those weren’t insurmountable obstacles. She was halfway down the stairs before he stopped her with the magic words. “I’ll pay anything you want.”

“Anything?” She looked him up and down from a few steps below. Calculating… Assessing… judging him.

He stood taller. Confidently. Few had ever found him or his wallet lacking.