“I’m glad he was able to help.”

“And I’m glad to get the chance to meet you because I wanted to thank you for—” She felt terribly awkward as she said, “—for letting me stay the night in your guest house.”

The look on his face told her he had no idea she’d even been there. A beat later, he said, “Any friend of Chase’s is a friend of mine.”

He was very sweet, but she knew what he had to be thinking. It was what any person in his right mind would think upon hearing Chase had picked her up last night and taken her to the guest house. Just the two of them, all alone in the beautiful house, with all those beds…and bathtubs. From Marcus’s standpoint, what reason could there possibly have been for them not to get it on?

“Really, it’s not what you—” But she couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out. Not without flashing back to that moment in the tub when she was coming and saying Chase’s name and he was there.

So yeah, maybe it was exactly what Marcus thought.

She felt a blush cover her cheeks as she realized there was, quite clearly, nothing she could say about the previous evening without sounding like a total freaking idiot.

Planting a smile on her face, she said instead, “Your winery is beautiful. Just stunning.”

Marcus was clearly pleased with her compliment. “Thanks. How about I give you a tour?”

No question about it, their mother had raised her Sullivan boys well. The only problem, as far as Chloe could see, was that it had also turned them into lady killers, one and all.

How could a woman possibly resist those faces? Those bodies? Especially when they came with manners?

“That’s very nice of you, but I’m sure you have far more important things to take care of.”

“I love showing people around the property. That’s part of the joy of this for me—watching other people take it in.”

Just then, Chase stepped up. As the two men did their half-handshake, half-hug, Chloe barely held back a sigh of pure female delight at all that beautifully made testosterone in front of her.

* * *

“I see you’ve already met Chloe,” Chase said.

“Sure did. I was just offering to show her around.”

It only took a millisecond—and one pointed look—for the brothers to have a very important silent conversation.

Chase: I know you think she’s pretty. Don’t even think about it, not for a second. She’s mine.

Marcus: I’ve got a girlfriend, remember? Besides, I wasn’t going to lay claim to her. I can see that she’s yours.

Chase turned to Chloe. “We’re taking a break for lunch and even though the girls don’t always eat, the rest of us do. How about you and I go for a short hike to the top of that hill and have a picnic?” He lifted the basket he’d had Jeremy put together that morning in anticipation of seeing her.

Fortunately, Marcus deftly let her off the hook from his previous offer by saying, “Hopefully I’ll see you tonight for dinner, Chloe.”

Chase watched her expression shift to indecision. She’d agreed to stay the day, but now his brother was basically asking her if she was going to stay the night, too.

“I don’t have anything other than this to wear,” she said, gesturing to her clothes. “So, thanks, but it would probably be best if—”

Marcus smoothly cut her refusal off in a show of brotherly love at its finest. “My suit’s coming off as soon as I’m done with my final meeting.”

With Marcus going out of his way to make Chloe comfortable, she finally agreed. “Okay. Thanks.”

Chase owed his brother one.

* * *

The two of them hiked up the hillside and the view took her breath away.

Chase took a waterproof blanket out of the basket and laid it on grass that was still damp from the previous night’s shower.

“Wow, you really come prepared.”

“I’ve got a good crew.”

She nodded. “They’re all great.” Jeremy had introduced her to Alice, the stylist, Kalen, the makeup artist, and Francis, who was in charge of lighting. The words, “I liked watching you work,” came out before she could hold them inside.

His smile was like a warm caress over her skin. “I liked you being there. I was trying not to show off.”

Amazed by how easily he could make her smile and laugh, she said, “Most guys don’t admit stuff like that.”

She half-expected him to say something like, “I’m not most guys.” Instead, he asked, “So, what do you do?”

He was being so careful with her. She felt it in every glance, every word. Even now, when he could so easily have asked her where she was from or why she was running, he was getting to know her another way instead. Just as he hadn’t touched her without her permission last night. It was as if there were a silent agreement between them that he wouldn’t push too far or get in too deep before she allowed him in.

The question was, would she dare let him in?

Chloe didn’t have an answer. How could she, when she was afraid to even acknowledge the question?

He handed her a gourmet sandwich and as she took it, she said, “Well, I’ve been waitressing.”

He nodded. “But what do you like to do?”

Most people would have stopped at her day job. But not Chase. He was truly interested. And that honest interest went a long way toward shoving aside her reluctance to talk about herself. She paused before answering, “I make quilts.”

People never knew what to make of that. Most assumed it was a hobby. Others just thought it was plain weird or boring. Men, without exception, dismissed it as just another housewife craft.

“Tell me more.”

Downplaying it like she usually did, she said, “I like seeing how fabrics come together in patterns.”

“I’ve photographed a few quilt shows and art quilts for various publications, so I know a little bit about it, but I’d love to know more. When did you start?”

Chloe rarely had a chance to wax on about her love for quilting. Not since she’d last been a member of a quilting guild years and years ago. She missed those women—and their shared passion—terribly.

Which was probably why she actually found herself telling Chase, “I started quilting when I lost a close friend from college in a car accident. She had been such a passionate quilter. Her mom actually owned a store in town. It was the only way I could think of to keep up my connection to her. And it gave me something else to think about—the motion of my hands and the needle, the patterns of fabric and shape, the building of something that I could create. Sometimes I can almost feel her watching me from up above with a smile on her face.”