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said. He was very determined and very professional. She realized it wasn't at all a come-on. He wanted to paint her—her back.
    “I'll bet it has dimples,” he said suddenly.
    “What?”
    “Your back. Way down, on either side, just below the small of your back. Cute,” he added with a grin. He lowered his voice. “Sexy. Do you?”
    “You have the most incredible nerve,” she charged him.
    “It comes from being pompous. Do you?”
    “Do I what?”
    “Have dimples on your—rear.”
    “I really haven't the faintest idea.”
    He broke out laughing. “You haven't?”
    “No! I'd hardly run around staring at my own—”
    “Buttocks,” he supplied. “Come, come, Ms. Norman! You were an art major. You've got to know something about anatomy. Enough to call a spade a spade and—a buttock a buttock. Or a rear or a derriere or an ass—”
    “Enough!” Exasperated, Gayle stared at him. She tried to walk past him quickly, but he caught her arm and pulled her back. His warm breath caught her earlobe as he whispered, “I do believe you have dimples on your buttocks. I'm willing to bet on it. Has no lover ever mentioned such a thing, Ms. Norman?”
    “No!”
    “Then you have indeed been neglected. And I do intend to remedy such sad circumstances.”
    A flood of color washed over her and she pulled her arm away. She felt naked. She hadn't blushed in years and she had never felt at a loss for words with a man.
    Especially with a man who possessed such an overwhelming magnetism. One who called to every need and longing inside of her.
    Gayle slid his jacket from her shoulders and handed it to him. She walked on ahead of him to the table.
    The group had been dancing. Chad and Liz and Geoff and Tina, then Geoff and Liz and Chad and Tina. No one seemed to have noticed that Gayle and Brent had disappeared for any length of time. Or maybe they did. As Gayle slid in beside Geoff she felt his scrutiny, sensing that he was just barely containing a snicker. Geoffrey knew she'd been outside.
    She leaned back in the vinyl-padded booth and murmured, “No, the man isn't exactly a bearded hermit. When did you meet him, and how did all this come about?”
    Geoffrey sipped something that looked like a gimlet and raised his glass before his face.
    “I met him this morning—you knew he was coming into town. And I came here because you always talk about it.”
    “You might have warned me.”
    “Why on earth would I want to do that?” he demanded, chuckling softly. “You were so intent on meeting a bearded hermit.”
    “All right! I've admitted he's not a bearded hermit.”
    “He doesn't seem to smell too bad, either. I'll bet that he even bathes.”
    “Geoffrey—”
    “Gayle!” he protested innocently. “I did tell you—”
    “Liar! You told me you had an appointment!”
    “I did not lie. This is an appointment. You were so busy making fun of Madelaine—”
    “Boobs!” Gayle interjected.
    “I rest my point. Why should I have warned you that I might be out with a hermit?” He sipped his gimlet again and looked at her pensively over the rim of his glass. “Come to think of it, I did try to warn you. I wonder why. Can chemistry spark before two people meet?”
    Gayle glanced across the table, but Brent McCauley was busy answering a question Tina had asked him about his work habits. Chad laughed and broke in with something.
    Gayle glanced back to Geoffrey. He was still watching her in a brooding appraisal.
    “He wants you to sit for him, you know. It was the first thing he said when I pointed you out across the room. Before he even asked your name. He really thinks you'd be a fabulous subject.”
    “And you want to feed me to the wolf.”
    “I don't consider him a wolf. I think he's a nice guy. I like him a lot.”
    “A man's man?” Gayle taunted.
    Geoffrey exhaled. “He's intelligent, interesting, and fun. Yeah, a man's man. I like him. He's a person first, then an artist.”
    “You do! You want me to do it! To