Matt felt his mind go blank. It was a good thing he didn't tell her about his short-lived career in amateur boxing. Or his front-row season passes for the Flyers. Or the time he met Hulk Hogan and almost passed out from excitement. "How about you?" Matt finally said. "What do you do?"

"I used to bake cookies. Does that sound dumb?"

"No. It sounds nice. Very domestic." He thought she looked displeased at that, so he amended his answer. "Very creative."

"Mmmm. Well, I'm not sure what I do now. I still bake cookies, but it's not nearly as satisfying. I suppose I'm at a crossroads."

He sat on the edge of the tub and studied her. "What about childhood dreams? Did you want to be a doctor? Or an astronomer? Did you want to grow up to be a fire chief?"

Lizabeth examined the tube of caulking compound and squeezed out a glob that artlessly landed on her foot. "I was never that realistic about my future. I wanted to be a fairy."

"And did you succeed?"

She laughed. "Not entirely. I'm still working on it. I'm having a hard time with the wings."

"So what are your adult dreams? What do you aspire to now?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't seem to have any aspirations. I suppose I have little goals.

Paying my bills on time. Making a home for myself and my children. Learning how to caulk a bathtub."

Disappointment prickled in his chest. All her aspirations were of independence. And she hadn't mentioned Paris. If she'd asked the same question of him, he might have said he'd like to get married and have a family. Of course, she'd already done that, so he understood she would want something different. But understanding didn't make it any easier. He decided to change the subject. "So, how do you like construction work?"

"I like it. It's useful. I like being outdoors. The men have been nice to me." She looked into his eyes. "And I like working next to you. You're restoring my interest in the opposite sex." She saw the way his eyebrows raised and his mouth curved into a mercurial smile. "I don't just mean in the sexual sense. My marriage had a lot of painful moments. As the years progressed I reached the sorry conclusion that not only weren't men necessary to happiness, but they were a definite pain in the neck." She shook her head. "I was basing that judgment on very limited experience. There haven't been many men in my life."

"Does this mean I'm not a pain in the neck?"

"No. The part about the pain in the neck still holds. The part about happiness has changed. When we work as a team I feel like all the puzzle pieces fall into place and make a whole. It's comfortable. It makes me happy inside. I decided it has something to do with man-woman chemistry and friendship. We would probably make wonderful love together."

Matt fanned himself with a hand towel. Maybe she would mention the trip to Paris after all.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Yeah. It feels great."

Jason knocked on the closed bathroom door. "I gotta go."

"Go upstairs," Lizabeth yelled. "Matt's working in here."

Matt looked amused at that.

"I thought you might want to continue the discussion," Lizabeth said.

"About making love?"

"Mmmm. Bathrooms are so intimate. They inspire frankness, don't you think?"

Matt grinned at her. "Have you been drinking?"

"Nope. I've been thinking."

"That's even more dangerous." He stood and pulled her to him. "What else have you been thinking?"

"Uh-uh, it's your turn to think."

His hands spanned her waist, framing her hipbones. "I think I should kiss you."

She felt her stomach tumble. "A man of action, huh?" Their eyes locked for a fraction of a second- long enough for Lizabeth to see the raw hunger, long enough for her to see some other emotion. Annoyance? Their mouths met and all things cerebral were forgotten. Only passion remained. They had both been abstinent far too long. Physically and emotionally abstinent.

His hands roamed her back, pressing her into him, but the closer he held her the more dissatisfied he felt. It was always like this, he thought. He was never able to get enough of her. Never enough talking, never enough laughing, never enough loving. It was the loving he needed now. He needed more. He needed to feel flesh against flesh, not for a stolen moment in a bathroom, but for hours and hours in total privacy.

Someone rapped on the bathroom door and Matt whispered an oath into Lizabeth's hair.

"Yes?"

"I have to use the facilities," Elsie said. "You gonna be done soon?"

Lizabeth took a moment to find her voice. "Well be done in a minute, Aunt Elsie. Matt's just finishing up in here."

"I bet he is," Elsie said. "When that door opens I better see some fancy caulking."

Matt moved away and gathered his tools. "I think I'm in trouble."

"It's all my fault," Lizabeth said.

Matt handed her an empty container of grout. "Damn right it's all your fault. Next time you want to have a discussion about making love it's going to take place in my house." He saw the panic register in her face. "That suggestion make you nervous?"

"Very."

"You know what you are? You're a tease. Every time you get passionate with me it's in a public place." He tangled his hand in her hair, his thumb stroked across her lower lip, and his voice gentled. "You need to take some time out and come to terms with your own sexuality. And you have to give some serious thought to me. I'm in love with you."

Lizabeth swallowed. "Wow."

Matt opened the bathroom door and nudged her forward. That wasn't so bad, he decided. Now it was out in the open. He said it out loud and his voice hadn't cracked, and he hadn't fainted, and the world hadn't come to an end. He'd broken out into a cold sweat, but he didn't think anyone would notice.

He passed Elsie in the foyer. "You're sweating like a pig," she said. "It must have been hot in there."

Four

Matt was in love with her. She'd run it over in her mind a hundred times in the last three hours, and she still wasn't sure how she felt. It was flattering, of course. And exciting. It was also frightening. And it made her stomach upset. Nerves, she told herself. She wasn't ready. It was all happening too fast. Well, if it was happening too fast it was her own fault. She'd encouraged him. Worse than that, she'd taken the initiative. And he was right about the teasing part. She always managed to lead him on in public places. It hadn't been intentional. Matt called it teasing, and she supposed it might look like that from his point of view, but she knew that sort of teasing wasn't part of her makeup. It was more that she was testing the water, and she'd unconsciously provided herself with a chastity belt. It had been cowardly, she decided.

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come. Her curtains were open, allowing the cool evening air to fill her room. Moonlight spilled over her bedroom floor, and Bob the Cat stretched across the bottom of the summer patchwork quilt. "You see what that man has done to my life?" Lizabeth questioned Bob. "He's made me into an insomniac. He's disrupted my emotional stability." It was a nice disruption, she admitted. Her life was immeasurably richer since Matt had come into it. Okay, so if it was so much richer why was she so worried? What was the problem? The problem kept slipping away from her. That didn't mean it didn't exist, she told herself. All it meant was that she wasn't able to nail it down. It sat in the pit of her stomach-a small dark lump of panic that was only noticeable at two in the morning.

The silence was pierced by a woman's scream. It was a scream of outrage, not terror, Lizabeth decided, scrambling to her feet. She heard the sound of someone running, and she reached the window just in time to see the flasher sprint into her yard. He stopped short and looked up at Lizabeth, not bothering with his flashlight. The sky was clear and there was enough moonlight to illuminate the man's pale skin. He stood absolutely still for a split second and then he waved. It was a little wave, the kind you do with just the tips of your fingers and your hand held at shoulder level. Dogs barked throughout the neighborhood, a police siren sounded in the distance, and the man took off at a dead run and disappeared into the night.