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she turned to face the man who had knocked her world off its axis.
    Dr. Hunter Adams filled the doorway, watching her quietly.
    “It’s a sin to have a voice like that,” she said without thinking, tucking her hands under her folded arms to keep them from yanking at her hem.
    “A sin?” He cocked his head questioningly.
    His voice could melt the North Pole, but she didn’t see any reason to stroke his ego. Not when he stood there looking at her with an intense, inscrutable gaze. “Never mind.”
    “Your shop is ... something.”
    She tried not to care about what he really thought of her shop and what she did for a living, but at this moment she didn’t feel strong enough to defend herself. “Yes, it’s something.”
    “Have you always done this?”
    “You mean sell panties?” She imagined Aunt Hilda rolling over in her grave, and let out a little laugh. “No. But I’ve always wanted to do something unusual.”
    “Well, congratulations; you succeeded.”
    Her amusement drained. “I’m sure you didn’t drive all the way over here to insult me.”
    He raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t insult you.”
    Not with words. “You’ve made no secret of what you think of me and what I do.”
    “You have no idea what I think of you,” he murmured. “You seem upset,” he continued in the slow, careful manner that made her think of a man who was stuck in a canoe without a paddle, an image that for some reason made her want to giggle. “Is something the matter?”
    Yeah. He was driving her crazy. “No.”
    “Hmm. You’re a horrible liar, Trisha. It’s the eyes; they give you away.”
    She sighed. So much for her moment of peace and quiet. “How did you find me?”
    “I saw you come in here. What’s the matter?”
    “I said, nothing.”
    His eyes narrowed, and in the tiny space not taken up by her files and the desk, she managed to turn from him. He wasn’t going to let it go, and his probing eyes seemed to see far more than she was willing to explain. If only he’d let her alone for a few more minutes, she could have gotten herself under control. Inhaling deeply, she forced herself to relax her shoulders and drop her arms to her sides. Yeah, the cleavage of her dress slipped and the hem hiked up, but that was what they were supposed to do.
    “Trisha. Talk to me.”
    Distraction, she decided. He needed to be distracted. “What was that about the floor in my kitchen?” she asked over her shoulder.
    Resignation flitted across his features. “My kitchen now has a sort of skylight into yours.”
    Again, the urge to giggle shocked her. “I’m sorry.”
    “Hmmph.”
    Control, she reminded herself. Confidence . Not easy under the best of circumstances. Next to impossible with this man standing so close to her. “Handy thing, a skylight,” she ventured.
    “Not much privacy.” He looked piqued. “I like privacy.”
    So did she. After enduring years of surprise room searches, it meant everything to her. “Maybe it’s overrated.” Now he glowered and she nearly laughed at how easily she could rile him. “I really am sorry,” she said kindly. “Did you come down here to buy some ... underwear?”
    “No.” He seemed to speak through his teeth. “Not from here.”
    “I stock some beautiful things,” she pointed out, enjoying his obvious discomfort with the subject. It seemed sort of incongruous, this big, gorgeous man looking so prim and proper. Unless ... Oh dear. “Is there a ... wife?” She held her breath, strangely relieved when he shook his head. Beneath his casual denial she sensed pain, and she knew she had to stop pushing him, but her insatiable curiosity got the better of her. “Girlfriend?”
    “I didn’t come to buy underwear, for me or anyone else,” he assured her grimly, taking a step into the only available space left in the entire room—directly in front of her.
    No wife, no girlfriend. The knowledge shouldn’t have sent a thrill through her.
    “If you don’t want