“Men don’t scream, and you, Michelle, have a sick sense of humor.” He glanced out the window again and then said, “Ah, hell. Alligators come out at night, don’t they? I’m the one who’s lost his mind. What am I doing in this . . .” He was going to say godforsaken place but caught himself in time. “. . . wilderness.”

She’d guessed where he’d been headed, though. The glint in her eyes told him so.

“I don’t know. You tell me. What are you doing here?”

“I came to fish, remember? I didn’t figure on alligators getting in my way.”

“So far, none have,” she pointed out. “And you didn’t come here just to fish.”

“You’re right.”

“And?”

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m looking for something. Okay?” Now he sounded antagonistic.

She turned back to the sink. “Tell me what it is. I’ll help you find it.”

He went outside without answering her. She couldn’t understand where the sudden tension had come from. One minute they were joking, and the next Theo had turned dead serious. On the surface he was a laid-back, take-everything-in-stride kind of man. Still waters . . . she thought. There was a good deal more to Theo Buchanan than his good looks.

She decided to lighten up. If he wanted to tell her what his agenda was, then he would. She wasn’t going to nag him like a fishwife.

It was such a lovely, sultry evening that they ate dinner at the wrought-iron table on the porch. The conversation was superficial and strained, but it didn’t interfere with Theo’s appetite. He ate like her father, with unbridled gusto. When he was finished, there wasn’t a single leftover.

“If I ate like you do, I’d have to widen the doorways,” she said.

He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. “It’s so peaceful here, listening to the sounds of the bullfrogs and crickets.”

She didn’t want to give him an upset stomach by getting him all riled up again, so she didn’t mention that the sounds in the distance were coming from the alligators. Since she’d grown up in the swamp, she didn’t even notice it. She had a feeling city boy would freak out, though.

He insisted on doing the dishes. Since she didn’t have a dishwasher, he had to do them by hand. She put the seasonings away while he washed the silverware, then grabbed a towel and started drying.

“How come you aren’t married?” he asked.

“I haven’t had time.”

“Are you seeing anyone now?”

“No.”

Good, he thought. He had no intention of hanging around Bowen, but while he was here, he didn’t want any other man getting in his way. And that made him a heartless son of a bitch, he thought.

“What are you thinking?” she asked. “You’ve got the most ferocious look on your face.”

I’m a selfish bastard. That’s what I’m thinking. “I’m wondering why you don’t have men chasing you. One look and any man would know . . .”

“Know what?”

He grinned. “You’ve got the goods.”

She rolled her eyes. “What a romantic way to give a girl a compliment.”

“Hey, I’m from Boston, remember? Men are raised to be blunt. Are there any men around here you’re interested in?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious.”

“I think Ben Nelson would like to get something going, but I’m not going to encourage him. Ben’s nice, but there isn’t any chemistry between us. You know what I mean?”

“Sure I do. Like the chemistry between us.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He handed her a plate to dry, noticed it was still streaked with soap bubbles, and snatched it back to rinse again. “You’ve been wanting to jump my bones since the minute I walked into your dad’s bar.”

He’d hit that nail on the head, but she wasn’t about to admit it. “Jump your bones? I think not.”

“I’m simply calling it like it is.”

“And how did you come up with that notion?”

“I saw it in your eyes.”

“You couldn’t have.”

“I couldn’t?”

She smiled. “You were too busy looking at my legs.”

He didn’t appear the least chagrined. “They’re fine-looking legs.”

“I’ll admit there is a certain physical attraction, but that’s perfectly healthy.”

“Is this a lead-in to a lecture about hormones?”

“That depends on how long I’m going to have to stand here and wait for you to finish washing that bowl. You don’t do a lot of dishes, do you?”

“Your point?”

“You’re taking forever.”

“I’m slow and easy with everything I do.”

It wasn’t what he said but how he said it that made her heartbeat escalate. Was he slow and easy in bed? Oh, Lord, wouldn’t that be something?

“You were married, weren’t you?” She blurted out the question.

“Yes, I was. I wasn’t very good at it.”

“Your wife died.”

“That’s right.”

She reached up and put another dish away in the cabinet. “That’s what Daddy told me. How did she die?”

He handed her a salad bowl. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious,” she admitted. “If you think I’m being too intrusive, I won’t ask any more questions.”

“No, it’s okay. She died in a car crash.”

“Oh, Theo, I’m sorry. How long ago did the accident happen?”

“It wasn’t an accident.”

There was absolutely no inflection in his voice. He might as well have been talking about a leaky faucet.

“No?”

He sighed. “No, it wasn’t an accident. You know what? This is the first time since it happened four years ago that I’ve said it out loud.” She could tell by his demeanor that he wanted her to change the subject, but she wouldn’t accommodate him. It wasn’t morbid curiosity on her part. If it had taken him four years to be able to admit the truth, then maybe it was time he got it all out.

“It was a suicide?”

“Yes and no.”

He handed her another bowl. “I don’t think she meant to kill herself. At least not that way. My wife was taking the slow route.”

“Meaning?”

“Alcohol and drugs.”

She didn’t say anything but waited until he continued.

“She mixed alcohol with all the pills and God knows what else already in her system. It was a lethal combination. At least that’s what the autopsy report indicated. She was out of control behind the wheel. She drove the car over a bridge into the bay. A hell of a way to end it, wouldn’t you say?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I doubt she even knew what was happening to her, and I thank God she didn’t take anyone else with her.”

It took extreme discipline not to show any outward reaction to what he had just told her. Theo was a proud man, and she knew that if she showed any compassion or sympathy, he would close up on her, and she didn’t want that to happen.

“Your friends and your family . . . do any of them know what really happened?”

“No,” he said. “I’m pretty sure Nick guessed something was wrong, but he never said anything.”

“Maybe he was waiting for you to talk to him.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

She didn’t know how far she should push. Leaning against the sink, she carefully folded the wet towel and asked, “Do you blame yourself?”

He shrugged, as though the question weren’t important. “I’ve come to terms with what happened. It sure convinced me I wasn’t cut out for marriage. I put everything in front of it. I should have been paying more attention to her, though. I was so busy at work, putting in twenty-hour days, and I didn’t notice what was going on at home. Hell, I knew she drank, but I didn’t realize it had become a problem. I think that’s called ‘burying your head in the sand.’”

“She made the choice. I know I sound unsympathetic, but you didn’t pour the pills or the alcohol down her throat. She did.”

“Marriage is a partnership,” he said. “I didn’t hold up my end of the agreement. She was . . . fragile. Yeah, fragile. She needed help, but I was too blind to see it. Maybe I didn’t want to see it.”

“I think it’s healthy that you’re finally able to talk about what happened. Now maybe you can get rid of it.”

“Get rid of what?”

“The anger and the hurt and the guilt.”

“Don’t turn shrink on me.” He handed her a spatula to put away, then drained the sink. “There, I’m finished,” he said. “Do you have any more questions, or can we move on?”

She wanted to ask him if he had loved his wife, but she didn’t dare. She had pushed him as far as he was willing to go. “Okay, we’ll move on. Dinner’s over.”

“Yeah?”

“I asked you to be patient until after dinner. Now I’d like you to tell me what you think about my clinic.”

“I’m going to,” he promised. “I’ll be right back.” He left the kitchen and headed upstairs.

“What are you doing?” she called up the stairs.

“I’m gonna get my laptop and set it up in your library,” he called back. “I’ve got to check my e-mail.” He paused at the top of the stairs and looked down at her. “Hopefully, I’ll have some answers. Then we’ll talk.”

Michelle went back into the kitchen and washed the countertops. When she was finished, she turned the light off and went upstairs. She stood in the doorway of her guest room. “I’m going to take a shower. It’s been a long day.”

He was bent over the bed, unlocking his attaché case. He’d already unpacked his duffel bag. His clothes were folded on her dresser.

The room was a mess. There were boxes piled high in front of the windows facing the backyard. She hadn’t bothered to dust or vacuum the area rug, and she was pretty sure there were cobwebs in all the corners.

“I’ve been using this room for storage,” she said. “And that old bed is going to give your back fits.”

“You think so?”

“You’re longer than the bed,” she pointed out. “And the mattress is lumpy.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can sleep anywhere.”

“I’m still feeling guilty. I guess you could have my bed. It’s king-sized.”

“Yeah?”

He stood and gave her the look. She recognized it instantly. She’d seen enough late-night movies and had been around enough men on the prowl to recognize it. Theo made the look sexier than Mel Gibson did, and God only knew, she’d always been a sucker for Mel.

“Stop it.” She laughed after she gave the order. “Just stop it right now.”

He raised an eyebrow. Oh, God, now he was doing Cary Grant.

“Stop what?” he asked innocently.

What could she say? Stop looking at me as though I just asked you to get na*ed and have hot, mind-altering sex with me?

“Never mind,” she said. “So do you want to?”

“Sleep in your bed? What an invitation.”

“Excuse me?”

“You want to share your bed?”

Oh, boy, did she want to. How long had it been since she’d been involved with a man? She couldn’t remember. Probably because it had ended in disaster and she had deliberately blocked the memory.

Slow and easy. Oh, boy.

Her throat felt like it was closing up on her. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

He took a step toward her. “How come?”

If she were thirty years older, she would have thought she was having a hot flash. Her entire body felt as though it was on fire, and she was having difficulty catching her breath. Her endorphins were going crazy too. She was feeling light-headed. If he took another step toward her, she knew she’d start hyperventilating. And wouldn’t that be a wonderful turn-on. Men weren’t the only ones who needed to take a cold shower to squelch their sexual appetites. She felt like she needed to dive headfirst into her freezer.

She blamed him for her scattered thoughts. He was the one giving her the look, after all.

He was slowly walking forward, obviously giving her time to make up her mind. Her feet were rooted to the floor and her stomach started tingling. “It would complicate things.”

“How?”

“We’d have sex, and then —”

“Great sex,” he corrected. “We’d have great sex.”

He had her thinking about it, and the look in his eyes told her he was thinking about it too. She nodded, tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. Her pulse was racing. Probably a hundred sixty beats per minute. Irregular too. Great, she thought, a gorgeous man flirts with her and she goes into ventricular fibrillation. If he took another step, she thought she just might drop dead. Wouldn’t that be something? The pathology report would show cause of death was cardiac arrest.

He stopped a foot away from her. He gently stroked her cheek with his fingers and then nudged her under her chin, forcing her to look up at him. She felt awkward and unsure, until she saw the laughter in his eyes.

“So what are you thinking?” he asked.

As if he didn’t know. “That you’re making me nuts. Theo, you might as well understand before this goes any further . . .”

“Yes?” he asked softly. His hand had moved to her neck, his touch warm.

“What?”

“You said I need to understand something.”

He was rubbing the back of her neck now. She got goose bumps.

“Yes, you do.” She nodded. “No, I mean . . . oh.” Breathe, she told herself. Take a deep breath and try to locate your brain. “Okay, here’s the way it is. I’m not cut out for a casual fling. I have to have a . . . solid connection with a man before I go to bed with him. I don’t believe in recreational sex.” She forced a smile in hopes of lightening the moment and added, “I’m a dinosaur.”

“Did I mention I like dinosaurs?”

Oh, boy, she inwardly sighed. Oh, boy.

His fingers gently played with the hair at the nape of her neck. “Your hair is so soft,” he whispered. “The color’s like fire.”