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that on purpose! You knew I was coming and you set me up!”
    Wide, innocent eyes met his. “I’m divorced,” she said defensively.
    That was shock enough in itself, but Hal wasn’t about to admit it. “You know what I mean. Nobody would drink that . . . that claptrap.”
    “Claptrap?”
    “Claptrap,” he repeated more forcefully, in lieu of a truer description. “You come down to my place tomorrow, and I’ll teach you how to make a cup of coffee, real coffee. Hell, I’ve done better in a blizzard with a tin can.”
    “Well you can just take your tin can and do it again,” she said, pushing off the counter and whisking the mug out of his hand.
    “I guess I’m going to have to. Can I have my shower first.”
    “What’s the matter? Is there a water shortage in the meadow I don’t know about?”
    “I don’t have any power, and no power means no pump, and no pump means no water”—he lifted his cap and smoothed his hair back underneath—“Basic physics.”
    Slanting him a dry look, she called his bluff. “You don’t know anything about physics.”
    Hal didn’t miss the slight questioning tone of her words, and a slow, teasing grin curved his mouth. “No,” he admitted. “But I figured you didn’t either.” He had her there, his first victory. Lord, it felt good.
    Stevie felt her advantage and her confidence slip. “Since when did I become your guardian angel?”
    “Since I became yours.” He was on a roll.
    “You only had to hit him once.”
    “Oh, no, Stevie. You’ve got it backwards.” If possible, his grin broadened. “ Only once was enough.”
    Men, she thought with a sigh, putting her hand on her hip and watching his smile get cockier by the second. She owed him, he knew it, and he wasn’t about to let her forget it. Reluctantly she nodded toward the rest of the cabin. “The bathroom is on the left. You can’t miss it.”
    Whistling a tuneless tune, Hal moseyed out of the kitchen and gave himself the grand tour on the way to the bathroom. The rest of her home was small but nice, like her kitchen. A big picture window in her living room gave her the same spectacular view he had from his front porch. Except she could cozy up in front of her stone fireplace and enjoy it, whereas he had to either go outside, or prop himself up in bed.
    Her furniture wasn’t like most that could be found in a mountain cabin. It certainly wasn’t anything like his; hers matched. Two navy-blue chairs with beige stripes flanked a solid navy-blue sofa. A baby-blue and white rag rug covered the floor between the set. On the opposite wall from the fireplace, a set of built-in shelves overflowed with books and magazines. He’d only had two books on the island with him: Remembrance of Things Past —a bon voyage gift from a friend for those long nights on the ocean alone—and a Travis McGee novel. He’d almost memorized the McGee book.
    Curiosity propelled him toward the shelves, where it took him all of thirty seconds to discern her reading interests. Tahiti, Nepal, West Africa, the names crossed his mind like old friends.
    “ Beyond the High Himalayas; Lost Cities of China, Central Asia, and India; Dollarwise Guide to the Caribbean, ” he whispered the titles as his finger ran along the spines. He shifted his gaze, passing over a shelf filled with National Geographic magazines, to the one crammed full of travel brochures hawking their wares—Tent Safaries, Adventure Trekking, Balloon Tours of Kenyan Game Reserves. The glossy pages fell from his fingertips one after the other, gradually bringing a memory to the surface—“. . . on safari , or island-hop the South Pacific ”—and another piece of his plan clicked into place. He had her where he wanted her, right in the palm of his hand.
    Grinning with confidence, Hal strode into the bathroom and came to a sudden halt. Hanging from an inside clothesline was the most wonderful stuff—pale yellow with lace, bright blue without, creamy silk, and soft