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course, she was just another woman to him. This was a man accustomed to women with a genetic tendency to be insolently thin, who had armoires full of sheer lingerie and the ability to flutter from one affair to the next. Jaime had dimples on her ass, cotton panties, and when it came to affairs, she didn’t have that kind of self-esteem.
    “I’m sure you’ve seen your share.” She tried to back away, running into the shower knob with her arm. She didn’t want to be part of his vacation story. She was a serial monogamist, and while it never worked out for her, it was a hard habit to break.
    “J’aime, is something wrong?” His brow furrowed with concern, right before his eyes opened wide and he jumped back from the cold water spitting down at them.
    Jaime followed, grabbing for the only towel and wrapping it around herself. “I hate this place. I don’t know who thinks it’s funny to freeze me out of my room, but freezing me out of the shower is too much.”
    She stomped out of the bathroom, as much in anger as in the need to get some physical distance. Really, girls who could do the walk of shame were lucky. She was stuck with the man for at least three days, thirty if he kept up this pace.
    Yellow ribbons of sunlight pooled on the floor like a vat of butterscotch, warming the wood beneath her feet in the small room where she’d left her things. Of course now the room was a lovely temperature.
    Grabbing her bag, she started rifling through for something to wear. She’d planned to wear bikinis and sun dresses, taking off and adding layers as the temperatures changed since her car didn’t have air conditioning. She had her outfit from yesterday, two dresses, two bikinis, one pair of jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt to see her through for the rest of the trip. If the weather was anything like yesterday, she’d roast if she covered up from neck to ankles.
    “Oh, forget it,” she muttered to herself. She might as well be comfortable if she was going to be embarrassed. Besides, a sundress covered all the things she obviously couldn’t handle him seeing ever again.
     
    The woman ran hot and cold as fast as that shower this morning. After they’d checked out of the hotel, she’d been pleasant enough as they took the tour of Fallingwater, one of the homes renowned architect Frank Lloyd Wright had designed. But once they were back in the car, she snagged the brochure from the center console and ground out what he guessed were a few choice words in rapid-fire Spanish.
    “What is your problem now?”
    She shook the brochure at him as he drove back to the freeway. “This is your plan, isn’t it? To see as many of these houses as you can as we cross the country?”
    “I don’t have a plan.” Though that sounded like a great one. He’d taken the brochure because it had a great picture of Fallingwater. He’d been amazed by the simple, elegant geometry of the design. The reinforced concrete was a stark contrast to the waterfall, the free-floating platforms in opposition to the natural stone the home was built into.
    “And the fact that there are a dozen homes in the Chicago area listed in this brochure has nothing to do with agreeing to get to Chicago tonight?”
    That did it. She’d been off all day. He’d let it slide, thinking she might still be spooked by the hotel, but it had to stop. He pulled to the side of the road, threw the car in park and turned to face her.
    “ You wanted to get to Chicago tonight. I counted five times you said it over that awful burned coffee this morning.” He watched as she stared out the window, the fingers of one hand toying with the white strings of her bikini top. They peeked from under the elastic bodice of a pink bandeau sundress that clung everywhere he’d wanted to, and left every curve of her shapely legs on view to taunt him.
    “If we make it to Chicago we’ll be back on schedule.”
    “Whose schedule, Jaime?”
    Finally, she turned to face him, her brown eyes