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difficult and precarious work. The sign was bolted to thick black chains and wrapped in rope. They’d worked out a pulley system, with the ad exec on the roof guiding and his brothers on the ground hauling. Encouragement, curses, and directions were issued with equal enthusiasm.
    There were certainly a lot of muscles rippling, she observed with a lift of her brow.
    â€œYour end, Cam. Give me another inch. Goddamn.” Grunting, Phillip dropped onto his belly and squirmed out far enough that she held her breath and waited for gravity to do its work.
    But he managed to balance himself and snag the chain. She could see his mouth working as he fought to loop the heavy link around a thick hook, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. She thought that might be for the best.
    â€œGot it. Hold it steady,” he ordered, rising to tightwalk his way across the eaves to the other end. The sun struck his hair, gleamed over his skin. She caught herself goggling. This, she thought, was a prime example of sheer male beauty.
    Then he was bellying over the edge again, grabbing for the chain, hauling it into place. And swearing ripely. When he rose, he scowled at the long tear down the front of his shirt where she supposed it had caught on something on the roof.
    â€œI just bought this sucker.”
    â€œIt was real pretty, too,” Cam called up.
    â€œKiss my ass,” Phillip suggested and tugged the shirt off to use it to mop sweat off his face.
    Oh, well, now, she thought, appreciating the view on apurely personal level. The young American god, she decided. Designed to make females drool.
    He hooked the ruined shirt in his back pocket, started for the ladder. And that’s when he spotted her. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she could tell by the momentary pause, the angle of the head, that he was looking at her. The evaluation would be instinctive, she knew. Male sees female, studies, considers, decides.
    He’d seen her all right and, as he started down the ladder, was already considering. And hoping for a closer look. “We’ve got company,” Phillip murmured, and Cam glanced over his shoulder.
    â€œHmmm. Very nice.”
    â€œBeen there ten minutes.” Ethan dusted his hands on his hips. “Watching the show.”
    Phillip stepped off the ladder, turned and smiled. “So,” he called out to her, “how’s it look?”
    Curtain up, she thought and started forward. “Very impressive. I hope you don’t mind the audience. I couldn’t resist.”
    â€œNot at all. It’s a big day for the Quinns.” He held out a hand. “I’m Phillip.”
    â€œI’m Sybill. And you build boats.”
    â€œThat’s what the sign says.”
    â€œFascinating. I’m spending some time in the area. I hadn’t expected to stumble across boatbuilders. What sort of boats do you build?”
    â€œWooden sailing vessels.”
    â€œReally?” She turned her easy smile toward his brothers. “And you’re partners?”
    â€œCam.” He returned the smile, jerked a thumb. “My brother Ethan.”
    â€œNice to meet you. Cameron,” she began, shifting her gaze to read from the sign. “Ethan, Phillip.” Her heartbeat accelerated, but she kept the polite smile in place. “Where’s Seth?”
    â€œIn school,” Phillip told her.
    â€œOh, college?”
    â€œMiddle. He’s ten.”
    â€œI see.” There were scars on his chest, she saw now. Old and shiny and riding dangerously close to his heart. “You have a very impressive sign, Boats by Quinn. I’d love to drop by sometime and see you and your brothers at work.”
    â€œAnytime. How long are you staying in St. Chris?”
    â€œDepends. It was nice to meet you all.” Time to retreat, she decided. Her throat was dry, her pulse unsteady. “Good luck with your boats.”
    â€œDrop by tomorrow,” Phillip