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resemblance to her mother must have been very painful to Emmett when Adell first left him. Guy seemed to be his favorite, and it wasn’t surprising. Guy looked and acted the most like him. Polk was just himself, bespectacled and slight, with no real distinguishing feature except his brain. He seemed to be far and away the brains of the bunch.
    She pulled on her quilted robe, her long hair disheveled from sleep, and went slowly into the bathroom, yawning as she opened the door.
    Emmett’s dark eyebrows levered up when she stopped dead and turned scarlet.
    â€œSorry!” she gasped, jerking the door back shut.
    She went into the living room and sat down in a chair, very quickly. It was disconcerting to find a naked man stepping out of her shower, even if he did have a body that would grace a centerfold in any women’s magazine.
    He came out a minute later with a towel wrappedaround his lean hips. He had an athlete’s body, wide shouldered and narrow hipped, and his legs were incredible, Melody thought. She stared at him pie-eyed, trying to act sophisticated when she was just short of starstruck.
    â€œI’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think to lock the door. I assumed this was a little early for you to be up, and I needed a shower.”
    â€œOf course.”
    He frowned as he stared down at her. She was doing her best not to look at him, and her cheeks were flaming. He was an experienced man, and he’d been married. He understood without words why she was reacting so violently to what she’d seen.
    â€œIt’s all right,” he said gently, and he smiled at her. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
    She swallowed. “Right. Would you like some breakfast?”
    â€œAnything will suit me. I’ll get dressed.”
    She nodded, but she didn’t look as he strode back into the bedroom and gently closed the door.
    She got up and went to the kitchen, surprised to find that her hands shook when she got the pans out and began to put bacon into one.
    Emmett came back while she was breaking eggs into a bowl. He was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, which stretched over his powerful muscles. He wasn’t wearing shoes. He looked rakish and appealing. She pretended not to notice; her memory was giving her enough trouble.
    Melody wasn’t dressed because she’d forgotten to get her clothes out of the bedroom the night before. That had been an unfortunate oversight, because he was staring quite openly at her in the long green gown and matching quilted robe that fit much too well andshowed an alarming amount of bare skin in the deep V neckline. She wasn’t wearing makeup, but her blond-streaked brown hair and freckled pale skin gave her enough color to make her interesting to a man.
    Emmett realized that she must not know that, because she kept fiddling with her hair after she’d set the eggs aside and started to heat a pan to cook them in.
    â€œWhere are the plates?” he asked. He didn’t want to add to her discomfort by staring.
    â€œThey’re up in the cabinet, there—” she gestured “—and so are the cups and saucers. But you don’t have to…”
    â€œI’m domesticated,” he said gently. “I always was, even before I married.” The words, once spoken, dispelled his good mood. He went about setting the table and didn’t speak again until he was finished.
    Melody had scrambled eggs and taken up the bacon while the biscuits were baking. She took them out of the oven, surprised to see that they weren’t overcooked. People in the kitchen made her nervous—Emmett, especially.
    â€œYou couldn’t get to your clothes, could you?” he mused. “I should have reminded you last night.”
    It was an intimate conversation. Having a man in her apartment at all was intimate, and after having met him in the altogether in the bathroom, Melody was more nervous than