“Normally, I’d believe you, but the view is a little violent at the moment,” she yelled back.

Thunder crashed overhead, and the wind blew cold rain against her. She stepped back from the railing. The storms here didn’t mess around. Palm fronds slapped against tree trunks, rattling like a nest of angry snakes. The surf slammed into the beach with increasing retaliation as the storm advanced ashore.

The man cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Was that you pla—”

Lightning broke the darkness, announcing another rumble of thunder. Dawn could see the man’s lips were still moving, but the wind robbed her ears of his words.

“What?” she yelled.

“That melody I hear—”

She shook her head and pointed to her ear. “I can’t hear what you’re saying!”

He scowled and glanced around before turning and running for the wooden walkway that had been built over the sand dunes. Soon she couldn’t see him at all and wondered if she’d imagined him. At least he’d found the sense to get out of the rain, even if it was rude for him to dash off without so much as a see ya.

Dawn shrugged and went back in the house. Perhaps that little interruption would wake up her muse. The lazy twit wasn’t cooperating with her at all tonight, and Dawn had a deadline to meet. She had to find the rest of this song by morning or she was in deep, professional trouble.

She flexed her aching fingers and had just sat down at the piano when the doorbell rang.

Had Neptune come calling? Her heart rate kicked up. She was here in this strange house by herself, and she was pretty sure the nearest cop was ten miles away. What if that soaking wet hottie was a psycho? He had to be a little crazy to be standing out in a storm in the middle of the night, didn’t he? That was the curse of having an overactive imagination. It served her well in her song writing, but damned if it wasn’t a burden whenever something a little out of the norm came her way.

She hesitated for just a moment and then went to the door, drawing the shade up so she could look through the glass pane. The shadow of a broad-shouldered figure loomed outside. She switched on the porch light. Yep, there standing on her deck, dripping water and looking sexier than any drowned beast had a right to look, was her Neptune.

“Can I help you?” she yelled through the door. She wasn’t about to unlock it. She’d seen a lot of horror movies in her day, and she knew what happened to women alone on dark, stormy nights who were stupid enough to open doors to strangers. Real killers didn’t warn you of their intentions by wearing frightening masks and revving a chainsaw on your doorstep as they asked for entry.

“I’m sorry,” the man said, his voice muffled by the glass door. “I hope I didn’t scare you. I just wanted to know the name of the song you were playing when the storm hit. I won’t trouble you further.”

“The song I was playing?”

“Yeah. It really spoke to me. I was hoping you could tell me what it’s called so I can look it up.” A particularly loud crash of thunder caused him to flinch. “This is stupid. I’ll go. Sorry for bothering you.”

He took a step back, his gaze trained on the staircase that led to the ground. Like all houses along the shore, the rental was perched high on thick wooden stilts to keep it above the flood zone. Dawn reached for the lock. She no longer cared that he might be a little crazy. He’d complimented one of her songs at a time when she was feeling pretty down about her talent. She tore open the door and stepped out on the damp deck. Her feet found a puddle Neptune had left behind, and she curled her toes to avoid the cold.

“I’d tell you what the song’s called, but I haven’t named it yet,” she said.

He paused at the top of the steps and turned. He’d been gorgeous at a distance in the dark, but up close and in the light, he stole her breath. Strong, rugged features—so masculine, it should be a crime—surrounded captivating dark eyes that captured her gaze and refused to allow her to look away.

“You haven’t named it?” His voice was deep and as smooth as silk. It played on her nerve endings like a bow drawing magic from a violin.

“I haven’t named it because I haven’t finished it. Do you really like it?” she asked. “I was about to scrap it and start over.”

“Don’t do that,” he said. “It’s amazing. You composed it?”

“I’m trying to. It just isn’t cooperating with me.”

The lights flickered as another bolt of lightning snaked from the clouds to the ground. Dawn glanced at the open front door with longing. Neptune might not mind being caught in the storm, but she wasn’t so hardy. The skirt of her dress whipped around her legs in the gusting wind. She hugged her arms around her body for warmth and started to creep back toward the threshold.

“Sorry for taking up your time,” he said. “I’ll just go… home.”

Something about the way he said home made her heart twist.

“Do you want to come in for a cup of coffee?” she asked accidentally. Sometimes her impulsive mouth said stuff she immediately regretted. She wasn’t sure if she regretted this particular outburst or not. Maybe if he accepted, she’d wish she’d gone mute. But if he refused, she knew she’d be bummed.

He bit his lip and stared at her with the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. She could drown in those eyes and wouldn’t even fight sure death.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She hesitated as they stared each other down. “Turn around first.”

He lifted a slim, black eyebrow at her, but turned slowly, arms extended at his sides, to show her his back (and perfect ass). An amazing tattoo covered the left side of his back and shoulder. The black-and-gray-toned rearing stallion looked so realistic, she half expected it to kick her with one of its flailing hooves. Even the feathers braided into the horse’s mane seemed to be dancing on the breeze.

When he’d completed a three-sixty and his eyes met hers again, she said, “I was just making sure you aren’t hiding a giant ax back there.” She didn’t mention she’d enjoyed his gorgeous ass, muscular back, and the magnificent tattoo decorating the expanse of smooth, bronze skin while checking for deadly weapons. She might be a lot of things, but tacky wasn’t one of them.

“I assure you,” he said, “I’m not an ax murderer. Or any kind of violent criminal.”

“Yeah? That’s what all the soaking wet, ax-wielding, violent criminals say.”

A corner of his sensual mouth turned up, and he traced one eyebrow with a fingertip. “I can only imagine what you must think of me, standing outside your house in a storm. I swear it was your pretty song that drew me to your window.” His smile widened, softening his strong features, and every shred of Dawn’s apprehension vanished. “What kind of soaking wet, ax-wielding, violent criminal would admit to that?”

She offered him a return smile and stepped into the house. “Come in. You must be freezing.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m okay. The cold doesn’t bother me.”

“Then you must not be from around here,” she said. She’d only been in Texas for a few months and had already acclimated to the warm climate. Sixty degrees felt cold to her these days.

“Not from Galveston, no. I’m from just outside Austin—born and raised.”

“Then you must be naturally hot-blooded.”

Her Neptune chuckled. “Maybe a little.”

He entered the house and stepped to the side while she closed the door. Water dripped from his body and left quite a puddle on the tile floor.

“Stay there,” she said. “I’ll grab a towel.”

“I don’t usually make such an ass of myself,” he said, and then chuckled. “I leave that to Owen.”

“Owen?” she called as she hurried toward the hall closet, which held a stock of beach towels.

“Friend of mine.”

“Is he a god too?”

“A god?”

“You’re Neptune, right?” she asked. “Lord of the sea who washed up on the beach during the storm? Do you perform miracles? Because I could use a couple of them tonight.”