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sidestepping the remark— and him. She turned toward the windows. "It's a lovely view from in here."
    Pierce stared at her ramrod-straight back for a moment, wondering what she'd do if he put his hands on her shoulders and steered her toward the bed. He decided it was too soon to find out. Maybe torn orrow, he thought. He'd give her a day to get used to him before he jumped her gorgeous bones. "It's even lovelier from outside," he said.
    He moved around her and lifted the latch on one of the long windows, pulling them inward.
    "Oh, it's a door." Nikki hurried past him, trying not to run in her eagerness to be out of the bedroom, and stepped through the glass doors and onto a wide stone terrace overlooking the grounds. It was topped by an ivy and bougainvillea-draped balustrade like that at the top of a castle wall. A smooth stone staircase led down to the pool below. Nikki hurried to the rail and leaned over it to look down.
    "You're right," she said when Pierce sauntered over to join her. "It is better from out here." She didn't turn her head as she spoke, preferring to let him think she was enthralled by the view of his backyard.
    "Yes," Pierce said. He leaned an elbow on the wide stone balustrade and turned to face her, positioning himself just a little closer than he knew she'd be comfortable with but not so close that she could reasonably object.
    Nikki tensed with instinctive feminine caution. She wanted to move away but didn't, deciding to hold her ground instead. She knew all the sneaky little stratagems men used to intimidate and impress women— having four older brothers gave a woman quite an eduction—and she knew the best way to counter that first,tentative come-on was to pretend she hadn't even noticed it. The male ego couldn't take being ignored.
    "We must be right over the garden room up here," she said, as if architecture were the only thing on her mind.
    "You've got a good sense of direction," Pierce complimented her. "I'd lived in this pile of stones a couple of weeks before I figured that out." His wide shoulders lifted in a self-deprecating shrug. "I still get lost sometimes," he confided, leaning just a tiny bit closer to her.
    Nikki continued to hold her ground; she didn't move but she didn't look at him, either. "It's a big house," she agreed, her gaze glued to the bright red flower she was fiddling with as she tried to think of something else to say to him. Something clever. Idle, inconsequential words were great for creating distance between people; strained silences were... unnerving.
    Pierce let her fidget for another thirty seconds before letting her off the hook. "I have breakfast out here nearly every morning when I'm home," he said easily, wondering if her hair was as fine and silky as it looked. Wondering, too, what she'd do if he reached out and touched it. Then, never having been one to deny himself anything he wanted—never having been denied— he decided to find out. "You're welcome to join me whenever you like," he said, reaching out to tuck a feathery wisp of hair behind her ear as he spoke.
    She looked up quickly, uncertainly, her eyes darting to his in alarm and warning, but he'd already taken his hand away, robbing her of the need to tell him to keep his hands to himself.
    She reached up with her own hand, nervously smoothing the place he'd touched. "Join you?" she said, because she couldn't think of anything else to say.
    "For breakfast. Right there." He lifted his hand and gestured behind her at the wrought-iron, glass-topped table and chairs. "Every morning at eight-thirty unless I'm filming."
    "Thank you, no," Nikki said politely. Virtuously. "I'm up much earlier than that."
    "So am I."
    "But you said—"
    "I said I had breakfast at eighty-thirty. I get up at six."
    "Oh?" It was the same time she usually woke up. She liked to get her daily workout over the first thing in the morning.
    "I like to work out first thing in the morning." He nodded toward the pool. "Laps. Then