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several times. When his ink pen went dry and he opened his drawer to get another one, she glimpsed a framed picture of a pretty brunette with a big smile and her arm around two small boys. She looked happy. Suddenly John Smith didn’t look so good, after all. Another example of her bad judgment of men! She thought of Beck. She couldn’t imagine him shoving a picture of his wife and sons into a drawer so he could flirt with a client.
    “Thank you for all your information. I’ll think it over,” she said to the bank’s assistant manager and rose from her chair.
    A look of annoyance crossed his face and was instantly replaced by a professional smile. He shook her hand, gripping it a little too firmly for a little too long and she was out of there. This had been a mistake, a big mistake. Out in the sunshine again, she thought of returning home, but Beck would be there with his hands off attitude, his sad knowing eyes and his tall, masculine body.
    Onward, she told herself sternly and slid into her car and checked the gauge. She could always use some gas and have another look at the new guy at Wally’s gas station and body shop. Talk about bodies, his was excellent and his sparkling dark gaze and the assessing way it raked over her was a clear invitation. But he seemed less sexy than she remembered, although he exuded masculine appeal as he helped her put an unneeded quart of oil in her car. She paid, gave him a pretty smile and drove away without a shred of regret.
    She bought plants she didn’t need or want, willingly following the suggestions of the handsome owner of the garden center, and she dropped into one of her favorite hangouts where she was waited on by a dude named Jude as he liked to call himself. Even his hot glances and smooth moves didn’t interest her. She kept thinking of Beck up on the ladder working on her pergola, his tight ass outlined in faded denim, his broad shoulders and six-pack exposed to the hot glare of the sun. She kept remembering the smell of his sweat. Not romantic, but she wasn’t a romantic girl and at the moment she was madly horny for a certain kind of man and Beck was it. Hell, she may have to throw aside her scruples and put a spell on him.
    Disgusted with herself and with men in general, she went on a shopping spree, which usually perked up her spirits. Several hundred dollars later, she headed home. As she was getting her packages out of the car, Beck rounded the corner of the house. He was fully clothed today, with his shirt tucked into the waistband of his jeans. She stared. He was more intriguing with his shirt on than without it. She knew what muscles and angles lay beneath the cotton, and she could imagine what the jeans hid.
    “Need some help?” he asked, pausing beside the car.
    “Uh, no,” she muttered and gathered up her packages. When she dropped some of them, he sprang forward to take them from her. They were close enough that she caught his scent. Man! Not just man. Beck!
    Quickly, she turned away and led the way into the house. He followed and if she rolled her hips a bit as she walked, she couldn’t be blamed. She dumped her packages on the sofa and he did the same then straightened. There was something in his eyes, a light, hard and masculine, that made her heart start as if a hand had reached inside her and gripped it too tightly. She felt it all the way down her body, inside and out. Her mind went numb. She didn’t know what to do next, what to say to voice her need for him.
    His gaze had captured hers and they stood breathing hard as if the chore of bringing in the packages had undone them. He moved first, she met halfway, then they hesitated only inches apart. She could see the flash of doubt then it was gone as he reached for her. There was no such uncertainty on her part. She wanted Beck and he wanted her. That worked out perfectly.
    His mouth against hers made her thoughts scatter. She was all need and want and sensations. His tongue against hers was