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mine. You can sleep there or in the other room. Your choice. There’s only one bathroom, shared between the two bedrooms.” He unbuttoned his shirt as he walked into the small kitchen. “You can have the first shower, while I open a bottle of wine.”
    “Thanks. I’ll take you up on both offers.” She headed straight for the spare bedroom, entering the bathroom from there. Before she closed the door, she called out, “I’ll try to save you some hot water.” Without looking back, she closed the door.
    A moment later, Quentin heard the snick of the door being closed on the other side of the Jack-and-Jill bathroom—the door leading into his bedroom. Then he heard the sound of the shower spray.
    Quentin had the bottle out of the cabinet and two glasses on the counter when he realized Becca didn’t have clothes to change into.
    He entered his room and riffled through his dresser for a soft T-shirt for her to sleep in. He’d offer her pajama bottoms to go with it but he didn’t own a pair. Instead, he grabbed a pair of clean running shorts with an adjustable drawstring. With the clothing in hand, he knocked on the bathroom door.
    “I’m not done yet,” Becca called out.
    Quentin tried the bathroom doorknob in the guest bedroom, surprised to find it unlocked. He twisted the knob and pushed it open a crack.
    Becca poked her head around the shower curtain. “What are you doing?”
    “I brought clothes for you, unless you prefer to sleep in the buff.”
    She frowned at his offering and then nodded. “Thanks. You can leave them on the counter.” The curtain whipped back in place.
    Quentin set the shirt and shorts on the counter and turned. Though he couldn’t see through the shower curtain, he could clearly see the outline of Becca’s naked body.
    His heart skipped several beats and his blood raced south, tightening his groin. Yeah, she had all the right curves in all the right places.
    A sopping wet rag flew over the top of the curtain rod and smacked him in the side of his head.
    “Out!” Becca demanded.
    “Going.” Quentin left the bathroom and returned to the kitchen where he poured a large glass of wine and called in an order for pizza to be delivered. He had no intention of going back out and he didn’t have much in the way of food in his refrigerator, having emptied it prior to the planned two-week vacation in Mexico, which had been cut short by all that had happened.
    As he drank his wine, his gaze fixed on the bathroom door, his mind conjuring the silhouette of Becca standing behind the shower curtain. He had to have her. A thousand seduction scenarios ran through his head, many of which had been successful in the past with other women. But Becca was different.
    The woman wanted nothing to do with him.
    She’d be a challenge, but one worthy of the effort to win.
    * * *
    B ECCA SCRUBBED THE swamp smell out of her hair and grabbed the soap, working up a good lather. As she smoothed it over her body, she was entirely too aware of the man on the other side of the door. As a physical specimen, he was perfect, and he wasn’t a slob like most men she knew.
    If she wasn’t searching for her father’s murderer, she might be open to flirting with Quentin. Maybe even sleeping with him. At the thought of her father, her chest tightened and her hand stilled. He’d been her only family.
    Becca prided herself on her independence, but she’d always had the safety net of her father. He’d said if she needed him, he’d be there for her. Well, he wasn’t anymore.
    Tears welled in her eyes and she dashed them away. Agents didn’t cry.
    She turned the heat down on the shower, and rinsed the soap from her hair and body, reminding herself why she was there and what she had to do.
    Becca stepped out of the shower, toweled herself dry and finger-combed her hair into some semblance of order. Then she reached for the clothes Quentin had thoughtfully provided. The soft-white T-shirt smelled clean and freshly laundered,