“What was the point? I think I missed it.”

“I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it.” She felt the temper rising, just like the heat of embarrassment in her cheeks. “We’re adults. It was just a kiss, and a nonviolent alternative to punching you in the mouth. Which I wish I’d done instead.”

“Okay. To be clear. You were irritated with me. Said irritation having built up over the course of years. And your actions were an alternative to punching me in the face. Does that sum it up?”

“Yes, Counselor, that’s close enough. Do you want me to get a Bible and swear on it? Jesus, Del.”

She walked to the fridge, yanked it open to grab a bottle of water. She could probably think of a man who pissed her off more, but right at the moment, Delaney Brown headed the list. With an angry twist of the wrist she unscrewed the cap on the bottle as she turned. And bumped right into him.

“Cut it out.” She wouldn’t have called it panic, but her temper took on a different edge.

“You opened the door. The metaphorical one as well as.” He gestured to the open refrigerator. “I bet you’re irritated now, too.”

“Yes, I’m irritated now.”

“Good. Since we’re on the same page, and I know how it works....”

He gripped her by the shoulders and hauled her up to the toes of her bare feet. “Don’t even th—”

It was as far as she got before her brain fizzled.

The heat, mouth to mouth, opposed the cold air blasting at her back. She felt trapped between the ice and the fire, helpless to move in either direction as he kept her poised on that thin, shaky line.

Then his hands slid down, found her waist, and the kiss softened into slow, melting lust. Her body went pliant, her mind drowsy as he drew her just a little closer.

The sound he heard, a soft, low purr in her throat, didn’t signal anger but surrender. The surprise of her, like a gift held for years, opened. He wanted to carefully, painstakingly fold aside those layers and find more.

She shifted, reached—and the icy water in the bottle splashed them both. He eased back, glanced down at his wet shirt, and hers. “Oops.”

Her eyes, dazed and dark, blinked. Even as he grinned, she scrambled away. She gestured with the bottle, the movement jerky enough that more water sloshed out. “Okay. Okay. So ... we’re even. I have to get back. I have to.” She wiped at her wet shirt. “Crap.”

She turned, fled.

“Hey. You forgot your shoes. Oh well.” He shut the refrigerator, then picked up the beer he’d set on the counter.

Funny, he thought as he leaned back against the counter in the quiet kitchen. He felt better. In fact, he felt pretty damn good.

He studied the shoes she’d left on the floor. Sexy, he mused, especially when paired with the professional suit she’d worn. He wondered if it had been a deliberate combination or an impulse.

And wasn’t it a little strange to be thinking about her shoes? But since he was ...Amused at himself, he opened the drawer for a notepad.

They were even? he thought, as he scribbled a note. He wasn’t interested in even.

IN THE MORNING, LAUREL OPTED FOR A SWIM INSTEAD OF A WORKOUT. She told herself she just wanted a change, but had to admit the change made it possible to avoid Parker until she’d figured out what to say. Or if she should say anything.

Probably best to leave it alone, she told herself as she kicked off the side for another lap. Nothing to tell, really. Del’s competitive streak was a mile wide. She’d kissed him, so he’d kissed her back. Double. That was his way. He’d decided to put her in her place—it was just like him.

And that grin? She kicked off harder for another lap. That stupid, smug, superior grin? That was just like him, too. Idiot man. It was ridiculous to believe she had feelings for him. She’d just lost her mind for a minute. Or a decade or so. But who’s counting? she demanded. She was back. She was fine. Situation normal.

When she hit the side again, she closed her eyes and let herself sink. After the punishing laps the sensation of weightlessness felt perfect. Just drifting, she thought, just as she was in her personal life. And that was fine, that was good, really. She didn’t need form and function and structure in every area of her life.

It was good to be free to do what she wanted when the workday was done, or like this, before it began. No one to answer to but herself. She didn’t need everything set and settled. She didn’t even want it to be. Del—or the thing with Del—was just a bump on the road. All smoothed out now, she thought. All better.

She skimmed back her hair as she reached for the ladder—then yelped as Parker stepped forward with a towel.

“God, you scared me. I didn’t know you were out here.”

“That makes two of us on the scared me. For a minute I wondered if I’d have to jump in and pull you out.”

She took the towel. “I was just drifting. Change of pace from running at full speed the last few days. We don’t drift enough, that’s what I think.”

“Okay, I’ll put drifting on the list.”

Laughing, Laurel wrapped the towel around her waist. “You would. You’re dressed. What time is it?”

“About eight. I take it you were drifting for a while.”

“I guess. Busy night.”

“It was. Did you see Del?”

“Why? Yes, but why?”

“Because he was here, and for a while you were AWOL.”

“I wasn’t AWOL, Captain. I just took a break.”

“And changed your shirt.”

Something like guilt began to inch up her spine. “I spilled something on it. What is this?”

“Curiosity.” Parker held out an envelope. “This was on the kitchen counter. Mrs. G gave it to me to give to you.”

“Well, why didn’t she just ... Oh.” Laurel stopped when she recognized Del’s handwriting.

“Don’t you want to know what it says? I do.” Parker stood, blocking the way and smiling brightly. “The polite thing would be for me to go back inside, give you privacy when you read it. But, I’m just not that mature.”

“It’s nothing. Fine.” Feeling foolish, Laurel opened the envelope.

You might think this is over, but you’d be wrong. I’ve taken your shoes hostage. Contact me within forty-eight hours, or the Pradas get it.