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that current of pure lusty attraction.
    “No, what?” Mud regarded her with one eyebrow lifted, a small smile working at the corners of his mouth. “How’d you know I had something to ask you?”
    “I—I was thinking about something else. I’m sorry.”
    Mud slid his thumb along her neck and this time there was no question the touch was deliberate. He ran his fingers through the soft, feathery strands that grew at the nape, looping the short strands around in slow circles.
    “A guy could be offended,” he accused, his voice roughening. “Sitting here about to propose to his gal and all, and she’s thinking about her job. Hydro-whatevers. Or about another guy. You two-timin’ me, Dot?”
    Dorothy’s eyes flew open. His touch on her neck was like liquid heat, entering her skin and luxuriously coursing through her body, pooling deep inside somewhere. It was all she could do to keep from arching against him like a cat, summoning those fingers to keep working their magic.
    But had he just said—
    “Excuse me?”
    “I said, here I was about to ask you the most important question a guy can possibly ask, and it would be nice if you were paying attention when I did it.”
    Mud shifted, reclaiming his hand from her neck, and stretched awkwardly to reach into the pocket of his khaki pants. Dorothy’s heart lurched as she replayed his words in her mind. Propose to his gal .
    “Uh, thought I’d lost the damn thing. Okay, here we go.” The glider gave a terrific lurch as Mud slid off and knelt down on the concrete patio, one knee on the ground. “Dot, will you have me?”
    Dorothy reached a hand automatically to his shoulder to steady the glider. Aware that her mouth was agape, she quickly snapped it shut. “You want—” she said faintly.
    Mud held up a tiny box, the velvet covered lid propped open to reveal a ring that, even in the moonlight, sparkled a luminous green: an enormous emerald flanked by slender diamonds. When Dorothy didn’t move, Mud patiently took her hand in his own and slid the ring on her finger, then held it up to admire.
    “Good fit,” he said.
    Dorothy allowed her hand to be turned this way and that, her fingers limp in his. She would have been more surprised if Mud Taylor had sprouted wings and flown around the back yard.
    A trick. There had to be some sort of trick, a colossal joke on her. Much like the ones he’d played on her decades ago: crawdads in her sink, frogs down her shirt. Only this one was playing dangerously close to her heart.
    “It’s...lovely, “ she said suspiciously.
    “Yeah. I sure thought the thing looked real. I imagine it’ll fool most folks, at least for a few days.”
    So it wasn’t—Dorothy wanted to smack her forehead with her palm. Idiot! What on earth had made her think that Mud would buy her a real ring—especially one that looked like it would cost tens of thousands of dollars? The same stupid hopeful streak that had made her think Mud cared for her when she was thirteen, when he’d kissed her down at the dock.
    “I—excuse me,” she said, jerking her hand back. “I just remembered I have to, to go inside. To check something.”
    She left Mud kneeling on her patio and raced inside to the safety of her powder room, jamming the door shut and sliding the lock. For a moment she took deep breaths, and then she lifted her left hand and regarded the ring in the light.
    It was an amazingly good copy. Perhaps a trained eye could tell the difference, but the faux gems had a fiery gleam, the platinum band shone brightly.
    Tapping on the door, inches away, jerked her attention back. “You okay in there? I didn’t, uh, offend you or something, did I? I just thought, you know, make it authentic and all, you ought to have a ring.”
    “That was very thoughtful,” Dorothy mumbled. “I just had something in my eye. Won’t take me a minute.”
    “Uh huh.” Mud’s skepticism came through loud and clear.
    “C’mon, open up, Dot. I’ll give you a hand with