“I realize that,” she said miserably. She didn’t want Morey to suffer any financial setbacks because of her decision. “Don’t think I’m not flattered or grateful. I am. But I have another life here. And I’m liking it.”

She glanced at the door, thinking suddenly of the man across the hail. It unnerved her that thoughts of him should come to her mind at just that moment. He certainly had no bearing on her decision to stay in Galveston.

“Well, they’re in a hurry, but I’ve stalled them. I told them you were taking an extended vacation, just as I have all our other clients. I’ll give you a few days to sleep on it and call you back Friday.”

“All right.” She shook her head dismally. Her answer would be the same in a few days, or even in a few weeks, but she supposed it would be kinder to let him down gently than to refuse outright. His references to money made her uneasy. Morey had an almost compulsive penchant for betting on the outcome of any sporting event. “How’s everything else in your life?”

“Fine, fine. Don’t worry about me. ”

“Business is good?”

“Are you kiddin’? I’ve got Rana for a client and now everybody wants me as an agent.”

She was relieved. Morey’s agency had been handling showroom and catalog models when Rana and Susan walked through his door. When Rana’s career had taken off, he had moved uptown in more ways than one. Soon he had more clients than he could handle, and had hired several assistants. Rana would always be glad that her success had contributed to his.

“Well, good-bye, then. Take care of yourself. Watch that blood pressure. Don’t forget to take your medicine.”

“Yeah, yeah. Good-bye. Think about the contract, Rana. Give it serious thought.”

“I will. Promise.”

She replaced the receiver thoughtfully. Something wasn’t right. She could sense it. Was Morey taking care of his health? She was afraid he wasn’t, now that she wasn’t there to nag him about smoking too much and eating properly. She hoped he wasn’t too affected by her decision to leave the business.

Her musings disturbed her, and she welcomed the interruption of a knock on her door. She leaped up to answer it, swearing to herself that her heart hadn’t accelerated with the hope that it might be Trent. She had almost reached the door when she realized she wasn’t wearing her glasses, and hurriedly put them on before opening it.

“Can you come out and play?”

He couldn’t have looked more adorable. His hair was still damp and tousled from his shower. He had on athletic shorts and a ratty T-shirt with holes in it. He was barefooted, and the Band-Aid was still wrapped around his little toe.

With the same kind of affection Ruby had for him, Rana wanted to pinch him on the cheeks or on the bottom. He was just so damn cute. And far too much of a temptation. He was like an ice-cream cone to a dieter. One taste, and resolve flew out the window.

“No, I can’t,” she said firmly.

“Aw, please.”

She giggled at his wheedling tone. “I can’t. I’ve got to work. Don’t you have anything constructive to do?”

“I could go to a gym and do a light workout with weights. Or I could do Ruby the favor she asked and sweep out her greenhouse. She wants to plant some flowers in there.” He winked at her. “But my arm could be twisted to goof off.”

“Well, mine couldn’t be, so good-bye.”

“Some friend you are turning out to be,” he muttered as he wheeled to go.

Rana was smiling when she closed her door. She told herself her well-being was due to an overall good feeling.

Each day of that week passed in a similar manner. It became their routine to meet and run together every morning. Ruby usually had breakfast waiting for them, which Rana ate before rushing up to her room to work while the morning light was still good.

Generally Trent made a nuisance of himself, but Rana was good-natured about it. It was almost impossible to get angry with him. During the day he did odd jobs around the house for Ruby. Their evenings were usually spent in the parlor watching television or playing board games. One evening the three of them strolled around the block. Ruby filled them in on the gossip concerning almost every family. No one had skeletons that Ruby didn’t know about.

Another night, Trent got out the ancient, hand-crank ice-cream freezer, which he fondly remembered from his youth. He cleaned it, oiled its rusty crank, and asked Ruby to whip up some vanilla ice cream. A few hours later they were enjoying the homemade confection beneath the trees in the backyard.

Rana compared that tranquil evening to many she’d spent club-hopping in New York. She wouldn’t have traded.

Trent couldn’t remember a time when he had felt so relaxed and content in the company of a woman.

On Thursday Rana noticed she was low on supplies, and went to the art store to stock up. When she returned, she was carrying a package so large and cumbersome she could barely see over it. As she set it down on her worktable, she was confronted with a startling sight.

A man was reclining on her bathroom floor. She couldn’t see his head and shoulders, because they were inside the cabinet underneath the sink. But Rana recognized the shape of those muscular legs immediately.

“If you’re a thief, I think it’s only fair to tell you that I don’t hide my precious jewels in the plumbing.”

“Smart-”

“What was that?” she asked mischievously, propping her shoulder against the bathroom door.

“Never mind.”

“I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for why you’re stretched out on my bathroom floor with your head under the sink.”

“Ruby said you’ve been complaining about a leak down here.”

“I have, but I thought she’d get a professional plumber to fix it.”

He slid out far enough to peer up at her with a perturbed expression. “You’re too picky-did anyone ever tell you that? I’m repairing your sink, all right?” He ducked his head back into the cabinet.

“Well, I should hope so. The drip ruined a bag of cotton balls.”

“Yeah, I found a few soggy refugees.”

“What’s that smell?”

“Remember the bottle of disinfectant you had stored down here?”

“You didn’t?”

“I did, but it wasn’t my fault, because the lid wasn’t screwed on tight enough. And what are you complaining about? You’re not down here breathing the stuff.”

Since he couldn’t see her, Rana treated herself to a visual feast of his body. He was wearing denim cutoffs again, which seemed to be his uniform for the summer. His shirt had once been a sport shirt, but the plaid had faded until the pattern blurred together in spots. The sleeves had been cut out long ago. Now loose threads clung to the sweat- damp, tanned skin of his biceps. He had left the shirt unbuttoned. The sides had fallen open, leaving his chest bare.

Rana swallowed with difficulty. His arms were stretched above his head. Each time he moved, the muscles of his chest plumped up. His flat stomach was concave beneath his rib cage. His navel lay within a tantalizing nest of dense, dark hair.

A good two inches beneath it was the snap of his cutoffs. They were faded and threadbare and conformed softly to the shape of his lower body. Rana couldn’t draw her eyes away from the spot where his thighs came together. His knees were raised. In the narrow strip of his lap, there lay a wrench.

“Ana?”

She jumped guiltily and yanked her eyes back to the opening beneath the sink.

“Yes?”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

Could he detect her breathlessness? Why was she breathless in the first place? She had seen men, models, wearing next to nothing. Remember that swimsuit layout in Bazaar, the one that was photographed in Jamaica? her rational self asked her. Yes, she remembered those long-limbed, teak- colored, gorgeous male models with whom she had assumed such intimate-looking poses. But none of them, no male body, had ever stirred her senses the way Trent Gamblin did.