• INTRODUCTION
  
  
• MEET THE CONTESTANTS
  
  
• MEET THE JUDGES
  
  

"Casual encounters are not really me." Lily traced a finger through the cold water, casting ripples upon the lake as the canoe glided smoothly along its surface.

"Why are you here then, spending the weekend with a stranger?"

"You're not exactly a stranger."

"So, now I'm not a stranger." Gabriel flashed her a wolfish smile.

"You're teasing me again. What I mean is that I usually don't spend my weekends in bed with men I've just met."

"So, you don't go out of your way to get lost in the woods, just so you can get rescued by men?"

"Right."

He stopped paddling. "Lily, I know that." He stared at her, a serious expression on his face.

"There's no need to explain yourself to me. Life starts here. It's just you and me, that's it."

"You did say you might indulge with someone you like, if you feel like it."

He laughed. "It's not about indulging, here." His look on her darkened. "You're my life, sweetheart, until the very end."

He put the paddle down at the bottom of the boat, slowly, still looking at her. His smoky green eyes glinted as he unbuckled his black leather belt, his gaze intense and brooding.

"You're the one I'm marrying."

Her heart flickered. "Stop kidding." She lowered her lashes and drew one leg closer, setting her chin on her knee. "You'll hurt me, you know." She had to be honest with him.

He slid off his pants and stood above her, entirely naked and glorious.

She couldn't help but gasp at the sight of his perfect body, the golden skin, the taut muscles ready for action.

"Hurt you? I'll never do that." A hint of a smile curled his lips. "Never."

In one fluid motion, he plunged into the dark waters.

"I've missed you."

She jumped. She did not turn, but she could tell he was very close, just behind the column -- perhaps just beyond her fingertips. "I've missed you, too. I want to thank you for all of this."

"It was nothing."

"Not to them. To them it's -- " She stopped when Mrs. Baxter turned her way. Reba smiled and dipped her head. She raised her fan, waving it slowly, shielding her lips.

"Sophie is a dear friend," Nate said. "I would do anything to help her. And I owe her a great deal of my present happiness."

Reba felt the delicate touch of a fingertip on her wrist, just above the edge of her glove. It drifted slowly up her arm, toward the crook of her elbow. When it reached the vulnerable hollow there, it changed direction and slipped down again -- sharper this time, the edge of a fingernail catching her skin. The rhythm was at once hypnotic and disturbing. It rippled through her like wind across a calm pool. Each light stroke -- up and down, up and down -- produced a wave of heavy heat, low in her gut and spreading lower.

She knew she should speak. She should say ... something. She could not form the thoughts.

"And to be honest," he continued, "I have as much to gain. Perhaps Mrs. Baxter will see beyond her expectations, see that I am not a rake, not a scoundrel, that my intentions ... ." His finger slipped beneath the edge of her glove, onto the mound of her palm. Her fingers curled. "Perhaps we would not have to hide."

"Nate -- "

"In fact, I would like to visit tomorrow." The finger slid out of her glove and resumed its previous path. "There is something I would like to ask you."

Christopher stepped onto the balcony where the enchantress costumed as a maid flicked dust from the rail. "Could I persuade you to work for me? You appear quite capable with a duster."

When she spun about, trepidation flashed in her eyes. She glanced at the feather duster in her hand, and her shoulders relaxed. "I don't think you could afford the price for my services, sir. Perhaps I could teach you how to fend for yourself."

With a slow grin, he drew closer. "Ah, but you're obviously more experienced than I in such matters. How can I entice you to come to me, fair maid?"

Her gaze swept the floor before meeting his. "I'm afraid only a band on my finger would suffice."

The unusual color of her eyes, a blend of soft greens, seemed vaguely familiar. "That's a high price indeed." He rubbed his jaw and motioned for her to turn about before him. "Are you an agreeable sort?"

She quirked one shapely brow and stood her ground. "Always."

He began to circle her, surprised but amused by her pluck. "Do you polish furniture?"

"I do." Her black gown accentuated her smooth, porcelain skin. The material hugged her curves from the gentle swell of her breasts to her narrow waist.

"And make beds?"

Playfully she leaned to the side, presenting straight, white teeth for his inspection, and flexed the muscles of her arm. "Of course."

With a chuckle, he stepped around to her back. "And do whatever your employer demands?"

"That depends on the demands."

He gazed upon the delicate skin of the nape of her neck exposed by her upswept hair. Careful not to touch her, he leaned in from behind and inhaled the faint scent of cloves. "A high price, but worth consideration nonetheless."

"I don't see any footprints on your back." Luke leaned against the exam table and watched Cassie study a heart diagram on the wall.

"You're right." Her gaze remained fixed on the chart. "We both want the doctor to tell us why Isabel died. I don't know why I'm arguing."

"I do." He pushed away from the table and came up behind her. "Sexual tension."

"What?" She wheeled around, her mouth shaped in a kissable O, the color high on her cheekbones.

He stopped five inches away. "The tension's so thick, I could swim in it."

Her eyes blazed. "What happened to the man who fired me because he was afraid he couldn't keep his hands off me?"

"That man reached the end of his last guitar string."

"I wouldn't call it a string." She glanced down, her gaze lingering on his crotch, then up to his eyes. "But you're right. You want me, I want you. So let's do it."

"Do it?" Luke felt his jaw drop.

"I'll pull down my pants and hop up on the table there." She strode to the exam table. Facing him, she patted the paper sheet covering the gray vinyl. "You pull out your mini-you and -- "

"Mini-you!"

"Mr. Happy, whatever name you call it." She gestured toward his groin. "We'll go at it and be done before the doctor gets here. I'd say five minutes should do the trick."

He tapped the fingers of his right hand against his thigh. "If I agreed, you'd run like hell."

"You think so?" She pushed up her top an inch and undid the button on the waist of her pants. Her gaze challenged instead of enticed as she jerked down the zipper.

He reached for the snap on his jeans.