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floors made of recycled barn wood. The second floor balcony showed off rows of books and the rooms upstairs. Natural light filled the home through the giant floor-to-ceiling windows.
    I can't believe I'm doing this. I've never bathed in a stranger's home before—seen them naked within five minutes of meeting them. I'm not that type of girl.
    I shut off the cold water and step out of the shower. I'm almost tempted to sneak out of the window instead of having to face James again. I just have to get through lunch, but really I didn't know if I possessed that much self control.
    My mind goes to when I'd opened his bedroom door, seeing him standing there, naked and gorgeous. His muscles rippling as he looked up at me, stunned. What would have happened if I had come into the room instead of running away? If I'd pressed myself against him and locked onto his lips, or, better yet, fell to my knees to sample a taste of him.
    I glance in the fogged mirror, shocked by my own brazen thoughts. My nipples are hard and my face is flushed. Where is Maurice when I need him?
    When I step out of the bathroom fully clothed, the smell in the air shifts from soapy sexual tension to orgasmic deliciousness wafting from the kitchen. I don't have anything aside from hiking clothes, but I'd chosen my most attractive outfit. My pack is strung onto one shoulder and one hand holds firmly onto the bear mace. You can never be too careful.
    What is my handsome stranger up to?
    I wander down the hall to find James in his kitchen. He's sauteing vegetables in a wok while quinoa finishes in a separate pot. A bottle of wine is open with two glasses next to it on the kitchen island. The sight of this man standing there, cooking for me, it's about the sexiest thing I've ever seen. Hell, it's the sexiest thing I've ever imagined.
    The thought of him naked and hard comes to the front of my mind and I realize I'm mistaken. Geez, Jaren had never driven me this crazy. Even when I'd first met my ex—when I didn't know he was an asshole. Looking at James I feel like a wayward teenager .
    James catches my admiring stare when he turns to get himself some wine. I'm biting my lip and thinking of how it would feel to wrap my arms around him from behind, undo his pants and slip my hand inside, taking charge for a change. When his eyes meet mine I'm rattled from my fantasy and fight to look natural, like a chaste girl who isn't enraptured by the dream of this man's body sliding naked against hers.
    “Lunch is almost ready,” he grins, as if he knows what I am thinking. He is fully dressed now in jeans and a T-shirt, his feet are bare. His hair is wet and I realize he must have showered too. I sense the lost opportunity, it’s a shame he hadn't just joined me in my bathroom.
    “Thanks for cooking,” I take a seat at one of the bar stools in front of the island. I drop my pack on the ground. “You didn't have to do that.”
    You hardly know me , is what I wanted to add, but I keep the comment to myself.
    James slides a glass of wine to me and grabs his own. “I'll admit you threw me for a loop with the vegetarian thing, but I figured something out.” He takes a sip and I'm entranced by the movement of his lips and the bob of his Adam's apple.
    He turns to plate our food and I'm mesmerized by the grace of his body. His whole body. He ladles the quinoa onto two plates then spills the teriyaki vegetables on top. He adjusts some unruly snow peas that threaten to fall from a plate then sucks the juice from the end of his finger.
    I have never been jealous of an appendage before. I wanted that mouth on me, or that finger on me. In me. I swallow hard. I wanted him sucking my juices from his fingers.
    James deposits one of the plates in front of me. “I hope you like it,” and my face flares. I know I'd love it.
    “It looks divine,” I'm looking at my handsome stranger, not my food.
    James remains at the other side of the island, directly across from me. He remains standing,