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scarf she'd misplaced drifted down from the piles in the back seat. It settled on Steven's shoulder like an indolent butterfly. Kate tried to pluck it away from him, but he got to it first. He weaved the golden cloth through his fingers.
    "This reminds me of you," he murmured. "Bright and elusive. You're a mystery to me, Kate Melrose."
    She didn't know how to answer that. He reached over and draped the scarf around her neck. His hands were so careful of her, withdrawing even as Kate wished for more of their touch. The scarf lay cool against the heated skin of her throat.
    She was very glad to deliver Steven at his doorstep. He unfolded himself and climbed out of the car, while she sat for a minute trying to regain a professional demeanor. Fortunately all her workers had left right on schedule, so Steven would have the house to himself. But he seemed to be in a generous mood as he came around and leaned in her window.
    "I'm going to help you unload your car before your shocks give out," he said. "And since I'll be gone tonight, I won't mind if you stay and wreak some havoc on the house."
    "Why, thank you, Steven. Just wait—you're going to be pleased with the end result of all this, I promise." Now Kate felt a sense of camaraderie with Steven as the two of them lugged boxes into the storage room behind the kitchen. After that task was finished he went upstairs and Kate decided to tackle the awkward section of wallpapering in the hall. She'd chosen a pattern of viand couldn't wait to see what it would look like.
    The noise of the shower running carried down to her as she puttered about. It was far too intimate a sound, and Kate tried to blank it from her mind. She clambered up on the stepladder. The darn thing just wasn't tall enough; she had to stretch up on the very tips of her toes in order to reach any corners.
    When Steven came downstairs, he was dressed in a tuxedo, which emphasized his dark hair, the clean lines of his features. The jacket was cut perfectly to the breadth of his shoulders. Kate found herself gaping at him. Before she knew it, she had teetered too far on the edge of the ladder. She came crashing down, helplessly raking her fingers against the plaster for a hold.
    Steven was beside her in a second, kneeling down to extricate her from the rolls of wallpaper.
    "Have you broken anything?" he demanded.
    "No… Ouch!"
    "What is it?"
    "Another nail gone." She nursed the jagged edge of it, trying to scoot away from him. "Look out—you'll get all dirty."
    "Don't be absurd." He took her elbow and managed to raise her to her feet. "Let me see your finger."
    "It's just a nail, for goodness' sake!"
    "Let me see it."
    Unwillingly she gave him her hand. She stared at his immaculate white shirtfront and fought an overwhelming urge to nestle her dirt-smudged face against it. Her head moved imperceptibly yet dangerously closer to Steven's chest. He ran his fingers ever so gently over her cheek. It was just a breath of a touch, and yet it made her knees weaken.
    "Kate…" he murmured. "Katherine?"
    "No, actually it's Katarina." Her voice came shakily. "My mother is impossibly romantic. She didn't realize that I'm definitely a… a Kate."
    His chuckle was low and deep, sending a shivery warmth down her spine.
    "And exactly what is the definition of a Kate?" he asked, his mouth close to her ear.
    "Someone completely…completely sensible…" She closed her eyes, drawing in her breath as his rough-soft cheek moved against hers.
    He held her for another moment, then released her slowly. "I'm sorry. I promised this wouldn't happen," he said. Kate trembled, feeling empty with Steven's arms no longer around her.
    "Everything's fine," she declared, smoothing back her hair. "Just fine."
    "I'm glad you're not angry."
    "Why should I be angry?" she snapped.
    Steven regarded her. "Because you're not the kind of woman who can be casual about a kiss," he said. "That's a refreshing quality. Don't try to hide it."
    She lifted her chin.