She could not afford to feel so vulnerable.

She’d spent too much energy fighting other people’s opinions and efforts to control her. Like she had with Brian. Just thinking about Brian made her angry, exhausted. Sickened.

She’d worked so hard, given up so much, to be free to do as she damn well pleased. She’d sacrificed a brilliant, lucrative career as a sculptor for that precious freedom and independence. That was why she’d been on the road so long, making the best of the hard choices she’d made. And working her ass off, too, incidentally, which was nothing to be ashamed of. She’d be damned if she’d let some pinheaded, muscle-bound doofus make her feel small, no matter how hot he was.

Her sense of self was too hard-won.

She walked across the luxuriant lawn, up the porch steps, admiring the thickness and variety of the flowers bordering the house and the flagstone walkway. The garden was over-the-top beautiful.

At the front door, she raised her hand to knock, and her hand stopped in midair as her chest constricted. Oh, please. Enough of this crap. She forced herself to rap boldly. Bam-bam, here I am.

The door opened after a moment, and there he was. He seemed even bigger than before, framed by the door. No poncho. She could finally check out all his assets. Wow.

She was absurdly glad that she’d changed into the green rayon dress. She’d even considered taking out the nose ring. Then she’d concluded that the damage was done. Taking it out now revealed more about her fears and insecurities than leaving it in did. And as if that wasn’t enough to make her feel self-conscious, the dress she’d shoved into the duffel was the very one that dipped down in the front and the back, showing off the little flower tattoo over her breast and the sun tattoo on her shoulder.

Just as well. It kept her honest. She’d flaunt ’em. He’d just have to deal with the tattooed, itinerant sexpot that she was. Nyah, nyah.

Other than that particular, the dress was quite modest and feminine and pretty. It was ankle length, just skimming her curves, and it looked great with the little gold and emerald V pendant that Lucia had given her. If her hair had only been dry, it would have covered both tattoos, being more than long and thick enough. But not when wet.

His eyes swept over her, and she suffered a burst of agonizing self-consciousness. She hadn’t packed a bra into her duffel. Her brights were on, big-time, and not just because of the cold, either. She’d put on a little bit of makeup, too, just because, and he was noticing it. Maybe he would think she was trying to impress him. Allure him. God forbid.

He was still in his mud-spattered jeans. Without the poncho, she could see how barrel-chested he was. The T-shirt revealed the muscular breadth of his shoulders. The faded jeans affectionately hugged his powerful thighs. Talk to the man, Viv, her frozen brain pleaded. Say something. Anything. Don’t just stand there gawking at the guy’s pecs.

“Sorry to bother you,” she said, kicking herself for the breathless, kittenish tone. None of that fluttery shit. She had to be an Amazon. A tough broad.

“No bother. Come on in. I made coffee.”

Vivi followed him into a big room with an open kitchen on one side, banks of windows on all sides, paneled in rosy, fragrant cedar. An old-fashioned woodstove had a couple of soft, battered-looking couches grouped around it, and a stack of cut wood tucked into a recessed space in the wall. There was an old-fashioned braided rug, in deep, brilliant colors, on the wood-plank floor. Plants were everywhere: ferns, jades, spider plants, begonias, scores of others she couldn’t begin to identify. The deep windowsills were all lined with clay boxes filled with pale sprouts and tender seedlings. It was warm, cheerful, welcoming. Beautiful.

Jack gestured toward an old trestle table in the kitchen area. “Have a seat. How do you like your coffee?”

“Milk, if you have it, and sugar, please.”

He poured coffee into a huge earthenware mug, reached into his refrigerator, and held up a carton of half-and-half. “This do?”

“Oh, yeah! How luxurious. Nobody I know uses half-and-half anymore. It’s always one percent, or skim. Or that foul nondairy stuff.”

He grunted. “I eat what I like.”

A sudden memory of Brian, who had a precision scale in his kitchen and counted every gram of fat he ate, rose up in her mind. She fought back a silly impulse to giggle and concentrated on stirring a spoonful of glistening, sticky brown sugar into her coffee. She tried not to stare at the way his biceps distended the short sleeves of his shirt.

He sat down across from her. She took a cautious sip. The coffee was delicious. “Great coffee,” she offered, feeling idiotic.

He nodded. Vivi tried to relax, studying the plants, and then noticed that he was staring fixedly at the neckline of her dress. She glanced down, terrified that it was gaping scandalously over her nipple, or something, but no. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Sorry,” he said, looking down. “I, um, was just looking at your eranthis hyemalis.”

She blinked. “My…ah, my what?”

He looked embarrassed. “The flower. On your chest. I thought at first that it was Ranunculus acris, but then—”

“A what?”

He let out an impatient sigh. “A buttercup. But then I saw the leaves. Definitely Eranthis hyemalis. Winter Aconite, I mean.”

She looked down at her tattoo. “Oh. Yeah. I like this flower. I noticed it in a friend’s garden, blooming in the snow. That impressed me. The perfect combination of toughness and a good attitude.”

“Yeah, they’re great flowers.” He tore his gaze from her body and stared down into his coffee cup as if there were something really interesting at the bottom of it.

Vivi shoved her damp hair behind her ears. “I came down to ask you a favor.” She took another sip of the bracing coffee. “I forgot some key things when I left the van. Most I can do without, but the most important is a can opener, so I can feed Edna.”

He reached around, pulled open a drawer, and handed her one.

“And some sort of bowl? I forgot her dish, too,” she admitted.

He rummaged in a cupboard for a plastic dish. “Anything else?”

“If I could borrow your broom to sweep out the mud?”

He gestured behind himself, to a corner where a broom and dustpan were tucked. “Help yourself.”

“Thank you. Edna thanks you, too. As only a Labrador retriever can.” Viv took a final sip of coffee and scooped up the bowl and can opener. “I’ll just head on back up to my apartment, then.” She grabbed the broom and dustpan, and pointed herself toward the door. She’d managed not to giggle or simper. Now, if she could get out the door without tripping over the rug, she was home free.

“Wait. Do you have anything to eat tonight?” he demanded.

“No, but Edna and I might just hike back to the van and grab some stuff. It’s no big deal.”

“I’ll take you into town to do some shopping.”

“No, really,” she said hastily. “You’ve gone to enough trouble.”

“No trouble. I need groceries anyway. There’s just the convenience store here in Silverfish, so I’ll take you to the Safeway in Pebble River.”

She was still shaking her head. “I don’t want to put you to—”

“Look,” he said, impatiently. “I won’t be able to eat tonight if I know you’ve got no food up there.”

“Well. That’s, uh, sweet of you,” she said, flustered.

“No, just practical. If you fast, I have to fast. And fasting makes me crabby.”

That was a new concept for her, and she didn’t know what to do with it. He took her baffled silence as assent, scooped up her coffee cup, and took it to the sink. “Be ready in half an hour,” he said.

She opened her mouth to argue but stopped when her stomach rumbled. It was thunderously loud. He glanced over his shoulder, gave her a smile that dazzled her.