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resist the need to stare at him. He was something! He was so beautifully male. No one would mistake him for anything else. A no-waist-wedge. Nicely hairy. Muscles. His bathing shorts were like those of all males.
    She was getting a little excited about him. Some unusual licks of feelings coiled and uncoiled deep inside her body. She had to swallow and blink.
    She could swim quite nicely and she didn’t mind getting wet, so they played recklessly. She tried vigorously to drown him. He handled her without any effort at all. He chuckled. He had a great laugh.
    His hands were a little careless but not groping. He let her take a breath before he pulled her down in the magic waters, and he kissed her very uncousinly.
    She might be able to get him in twenty-four hours! That would be some sort of record, she was sure of it. Men weren’t the only ones who had their wily way. So did Amy Abbott Allen, the man-izer.
    They said men notched their bedposts. How would she keep track? A pencil mark on her closet wall. A perfect solution. That would be discreet.
    Then only she would know the full extent of her conquests. Her reputation would remain intact, and her mother wouldn’t start searching for a Presbyterian convent.
    Now why wouldn’t people be as tolerant of a woman, who was a man-izer, as they were indulgent and titillated by a man who was always after women? Prejudice. Everyone should fight prejudice.
    It rather pleased Amy to think she was taking up the Women’s Cause in seducing Chas. It gave a nice tone of unselfishness to her indulgence.
    She sneaked a peek at him. How brave of her to seduce him for womankind. She laughed.
    He looked up and grinned back. “What’s funny?”
    She replied, “The day. The sun. Your ineptness in swimming?”
    He took her to the bottom of the pool again. And again he kissed her. As they surfaced, and she pushed back her black hair, her blue eyes were almost hidden by her water-spiked lashes. She said, “See? You’re on the bottom of the pool all the time. You don’t know how to stay on the surface!”
    She almost made it to the edge of the pool before he caught her. She laughed and gasped for breath, knowing what he’d do— again— but instead he held her across his arms and moved her about the pool in the most charmingly peaceful way.
    He was powerful. His muscles roiled as he used them in handling her. His movements were so effortless. Seemingly effortless.
    It no longer pricked her conscience when his family called her “cousin.” How quickly she had adjusted to being a part of them. From her lazy pool bed, with Chas her movement and buoyancy, Amy saw Connie and Matt walking along the latticed path as it wound near the pool.
    They were speaking intently, unaware of their surroundings. Connie wouldn’t look at Matt, although he took quick, serious glances at her. Amy thought they were quarreling.
    If Connie didn’t want to move in with Matt, what was their problem? Then Matt started to leave Connie, and she put out her hand and stopped him. How strange. If Connie didn’t want Matt, why did she stop him? Was she holding out for marriage?
    Maybe Connie should just...have an affair, Amy decided, as she would with Chas. And she smiled at Chas, who smiled back in a very smug way. Amy wondered what he’d think when she made her move.
    Very kindly she put her hand up and smoothed his wet hair back from his forehead, and he made a purring sound. Somehow that startled her, but then she remembered Chas was a Cougar.
    They probably made all sorts of jokes about being feline. Feline sounded too feminine. He was a lion. Mountain lion, cougar, puma. A loner. Dangerous.
    And there was a sensual lick going through her body again? It was a little scary.
    They got out of the pool, and she put on her robe. But Chas wrapped her head in a towel and put another around her shoulders. He put on his own robe and roughed his hair with another towel. “Let’s go back to our room.” He said it so