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frequent checks. At one point, she opened the front door, then closed it again in disgust at the endless downpour. Somewhat later, she climbed the narrow stairway to the enclosed cupola, from which she had originally spotted her dark and nameless mariner. Despite its many problems and inconveniences, Ivan’s effect on the seascape was nothing short of spectacular when viewed from this post of utter protection.
    The shoreline was edged with voluminous lacings of pearly froth, yielding to the charcoal gray mass of undulating saltwater as the storm whipped its tail back and
forth. Sea grass lay, low and nearly prone, under the force of the wind, rising but occasionally to sway in clumped defiance. Overhead, holding it all in, was a leaden sky, its fiercely dark and impenetrable layer of rain clouds boding more of the same.
    But within several days the sun would surely shine. Her mind held that bright image as she descended the stairs, washed up, and changed into fresh clothes. A yawn made its helpless escape as she took refuge in the corner of the living room sofa. What of her handsome stranger then? When all links with civilization were repaired, where would he go? What would he do? From all indications, he was intelligent and refined. For some woman, he must have made a devoted husband; for some children, a loving father.
    As she sat with her arms curled protectively about her middle, the memory of his touch returned to her—his hands moving gently on her arms; his grasp of her wrist, firm yet kind; his thumb, tender against her life’s pulse. An eerie tingle passed through her, which she determinedly ignored as untimely and inappropriate. Yet she held his image in her mind as her own fatigue crept over her.
    The very same image was before her when she awoke. “Good afternoon,” it said softly, its gaze directed at her slow-opening eyes.
    She jerked her lids open and looked quickly around in an effort to reorient herself. “How long have I been sleeping?”
    He sat on the sofa by her hip, very close and astonishingly intimate, one arm propped against the back of the cushion on her opposite side. “I’m not really sure, since I slept for a while myself. But it’s nearly two o’clock now.”
    â€œAny lights yet?”
    The dark swath of hair fell dashingly onto his brow as he shook his head. “Nor phones. I checked.”

    Self-consciousness flooded her at his nearness. “How long have you been sitting here … watching me?”
    When he grinned, there was a devilish twist to his lips that she hadn’t seen before, one that stirred her pulse dangerously. “For a while. You’re very lovely to watch.”
    â€œI-I think I’d better get up,” she stammered, tearing her gaze from the handsome face and struggling to raise her body from its prone position. But the bulk of his weight effectively imprisoned her, and he seemed disinclined to move. “Uh … excuse me …”
    â€œWhere are you off to?” he teased gently. “There’s really nowhere to go until the storm abates.”
    â€œWell, I can’t just lie here. There must be something I can do to keep busy …”
    â€œThere is.”
    She should have felt it coming, yet despite the strong vibrations coursing through her own body, she was unprepared. When he lowered his head, she froze. Then his lips touched hers lightly, tasting and teasing with feather-faint brushes, moving across her closed mouth in gentle exploration. When he drew back, the light of desire shone bright from deep within his dark and mysterious depths.
    â€œCan you kiss back?” he murmured softly.
    Hers was a fast whisper in return. “No.”
    â€œYou seem very sure. Why is that?”
    â€œI don’t even know you.”
    â€œTo the contrary. I’d say”—a black eyebrow arched roguishly into his forehead—“considering the fact that I was stark naked in