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much of a drinker. One or two glasses of wine were her normal limit—more than that, and she tended to get legless and silly. She appreciated Quinn walking her home last night, but her memories of that walk were a little fuzzy.
    I just hope I didn’t say—or do—anything embarrassing.
    The surprise, if not the cringe-inducing horror, at finding out Quinn Haslett had grown up to be the same Studly she’d been ogling the past few weeks had faded, and she
might
have a vague memory of finding out that he’d kind of enjoyed her voyeurism, but that might just be wishful thinking on her part or false memories due to Everclear.
    But the fact that her stalking had to stop was clear enough. That much she knew, even as she gulped down a tall glass of ice water to battle the hangover and set the kettle to boil. She could survive being busted for her actions, but not continuing them now that he knew.
    And hopefully—
please, God—
she hadn’t told Quinn how much she’d enjoyed watching him.
    But she was pretty sure she’d made a pass at him—but since she’d woken up alone and still in last night’s clothes, she had to assume Quinn had deflected it.
    Lack of interest or gentlemanly behavior? Either way, her face felt sunburned at the thought.
    Yet somehow
none
of that managed to keep her from sneaking out onto the balcony. Eyes firmly fixed on the horizon, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, hoping some fresh air might clear out the cobwebs of her hangover.
    A sharp bark brought her attention to the beach below, and she saw Quinn throw a ball for Scoop. Then he looked up at the balcony and waved.
    She might be a little humiliated, but she was still glad to see him there. She returned the wave as casually as possible, stayed a few minutes longer—eyes
totally
on the water—then went inside to splash water on her face and change.
    Well done, Sophie. Very smooth.
    Feeling somewhat human now, she peeked out the window only to see no sign of Quinn or Scoop now. With a small sigh—she didn’t want to examine it to decide if it was relief or disappointment—she went downstairs to the main floor tounlock the doors and start her day. She had a lot to do.
    She jumped half out of her skin to find a man on the back porch. Hand to her chest to keep her heart from falling to the floor, she unlocked the door. “Jeez, Quinn, you scared the life out of me.”
    â€œSorry.” He grinned, white teeth flashing against bronzed skin, telling her he wasn’t all
that
sorry. “I just wanted to see if you were recovered from last night.”
    â€œI’ve felt better, but I’m functioning,” she confessed.
    A whine brought her attention to the dog at Quinn’s side. She sat nicely, but her whole body quivered with energy as she extended her neck as far as possible in Sophie’s direction.
    â€œYou must be Scoop. Aren’t you a pretty girl,” she said, reaching over to pet the dog, who wiggled more with pleasure at the attention even as she stayed firmly seated. Quinn had trained her well, it seemed. She could add “responsible pet parent” to Quinn’s growing list of positive attributes. She looked back up at Quinn. “Would you like to come in for coffee or water or something?”
    â€œThanks, but we’re both a bit mucky.”
    Scoop certainly was—sand clung in clumps to her wet fur. Quinn, on the other hand . . .
Damn.
He had a sexy second-day stubble lining his jaw, and a fine sheen of sweat across his skin. The T-shirt he wore looked old enough to vote, and the shoulders ended in ragged holes where the sleeves had been cut off. Up close, those arms she’d admired from afar were just as impressive—sculpted, but not bulky. His brightly colored trunks were damp around the bottoms, meaning he’d been playing in the water with Scoop. He smelled like sunshine and clean sweat and fresh air,