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the fan without a glance. “Come into the kitchen.”
    Judith walked gingerly across the throw rugs, not wanting to get them sandy. She had brushed off what she could from her legs and feet before coming into the house, but the job had been makeshift at best. Paul seemed unconcerned about sand being trooped through his house.
    The kitchen, like the living room, was sparsely furnished, but the colors were magnificent. Ceramic tiles, individually painted in geometric designs of blue, orange, green, and yellow, and fitted together, were the floor, countertops, and splashbacks. The white stucco walls and dark timber joists were a perfect backdrop to the blazing colors. The kaleidoscope nearly made her dizzy.
    Sitting on one of the stools at the cooking island, Judith was duly impressed when Paul took a sharp knife to the abalone shell and deftly opened it.
    “This one’s a good size,” he said, rinsing off the meat under a running faucet. “If they’resmaller than five inches you leave them. Be sure to rinse the meat well to get any sand or grit out.”
    She nodded, carefully absorbing the information while wondering when she’d ever go diving for abalone. Maybe in another lifetime. She wondered if such instructions carried over with the soul.
    “Do you know how to cook it?” he asked while getting out a cutting board.
    “No.” She smiled brightly. “Do you boil it?”
    “Only if you want to chew rubber.” He took out some more things, a fry pan, a wooden mallet, olive oil, and herbs. “Here, I’ll cook some because I can’t stand waiting for it and then you’ll know. You have to pound it thin first. If you don’t, it’ll still be rubbery.”
    He cut a couple of pieces off the meat, then began to bang the heck out of them until each piece was as thin as a china plate.
    Within seconds he had the oil sizzling and was dumping the thinned chunks of abalone meat into the pan. They were no sooner in, when he was taking them out again. “Just let it kiss the pan.”
    She found herself focusing on his lips. “Really?”
    “Yes.”
    Would his kiss sizzle so fast too? she wondered. She had a feeling it would knock her off her feet. She told herself speculation was nine-tenthsimagination and his kiss probably wouldn’t even come close to measuring up.
    He put a plate in front of her, then squeezed a lime over it. “Try it.”
    She did. The abalone melted in her mouth, with lovely bursts of garlic, cumin, and Mexican lime. “Oh, Lord, but that’s heaven!”
    He grinned. “Now you know why I eat it every chance I get.”
    “I don’t blame you.” She licked her lips, wanting to taste every bit of it.
    Suddenly conscious of Paul’s gaze focused on her mouth, she stopped and stared at him. Only the counter separated them. For a moment neither moved, then he turned away. Judith blinked, then slumped in relief, her heart thumping erratically. He had so mesmerized her for that moment, she had wanted him to kiss her.
    It was the last thing she needed.
    The spell of easy companionship was snapped as if chopped free with one ax blow. The food on her plate looked unappetizing now. She rose from the stool. “I better be going.”
    “Sure.” He wrapped the abalone he’d set aside for her in some foil. “Here.”
    She took it from him, careful not to let her fingers touch his.
    He turned to a glass patio door and pushed it open. “You can go out this way.”
    She nodded and stepped to the door. Pausing with only bare inches separating them, she wonderedhow to walk past him without getting any closer. Something made her glance up at his face.
    It was a mistake.
    Tentatively, almost reluctantly, she tilted her head up even as his shyly bent down. Their lips touched in a butterfly’s kiss … soft … barely brushing … and yet sending shock waves skittering along every nerve ending. The kiss broke and then came back again stronger, more demanding. His arms went around her and she pressed herself against his hard