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it. Just so long as they both knew it wasn’t going anywhere, what was the harm?
    And so went the rest of November. In December, they started taking Medusa to the gravelly beach every morning before her breakfast. Sometimes Charlie held his hand. They’d go back to her kitchen and have coffee and read the paper. Medusa was eating well, and they were happy.  
    Except when they argued about whether or not she was his girlfriend.
    For Christmas, Jeeves had accepted an invitation out of town. He’d done it before he’d adopted Medusa, of course, but Charlie knew he wanted to go, so she encouraged him. Charlie was happy to dog sit, but was unhappy as soon as Wednesday night, several hours after he’d left.
    It was about nine o’clock. Medusa was pouting. Charlie was pouting. They looked at each other with dismal expressions, and Charlie realized that man had possibly already ruined her for other men.
    Dammit.  
    Medusa hadn’t eaten her kibble, but Charlie had coaxed her into nibbling on some leftover roast while they sat morosely on the couch together, Charlie drinking red wine from a very deep glass. When she got up and put Tom Waits on, Charlie knew she was doomed. Doomed.

Chapter Five
     
    Jeeves couldn’t stop thinking about Charlie’s scar.  
    If he were honest with himself, he’d admit he hadn’t stopped thinking about Charlie since he’d left Port Grable. But just then, surrounded by talented, gorgeous people and a lavish meal with good conversation, Jeeves felt as if he were alone in a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean and all he could do was wonder where that scar had come from.
    She didn’t hide it—sometimes it peeked out of her lower-cut clothes and sometimes he’d had the opportunity to touch it briefly during Kibble Time. It seemed to be about three inches long and curved around her breast, most of it covered by her bra. What concerned him was that he wanted to see it because of its location, of course, but more than that he wanted to know how she’d gotten it. And he didn’t know which he wanted more.
    It was one of those things she didn’t talk about, just like she wouldn’t discuss her life before moving into her house or the fact that she was falling for him. Those topics were off limits.  
    God he missed her.  
    He needed to go home. He needed to be home.  
    Jeeves kept trying to engage in conversation at the table. They were good people, his friends, and he should be grateful for the company. Instead, he thought of that prickly woman and all her secrets and the way she smelled like apples and tasted like sin. And how it would be another twenty-four hours before he would lay his eyes on her. Depressing.
    On Friday, he pulled into his driveway and hurried straight to her door. Charlie opened it and smiled. That was all he saw and all he remembered for quite some time. Jeeves pulled her into an embrace, his hands delving into the soft brown curls while his mouth went for hers without preamble.  
    She gasped into his mouth and he took it. This was the first time he’d kissed her without the dog bowl being filled and it sort of felt naughtier for it. He’d take that too. Jeeves kicked the door closed behind him, turned them both around, and backed her into it. Charlie’s hands gripped his shoulders tightly, but eased into a more pliant hold really quickly when she realized if she lowered them he could get closer to her.
    She bunched the waist of his shirt beneath his coat into her hands, pulling his hips into hers. He pushed into the cushion of her soft skin, delving his tongue deeper into her mouth. An urgency unlike anything he’d ever felt before overtook him and it carried them both over the cliff of desire. He wanted her naked. He needed to be inside her like he needed his next breath.  
    If he could leave her lush, wet mouth, he thought of what he might do to her neck. She was so sensitive in the curve between her ear and her shoulder. He wanted to feel her tremble, but God