I placed the tray on the small table I’d set up on the porch then wiped my palms off on the fronts of my cutoff jean shorts.

God, I had never been this nervous in my entire life.

It was ridiculous. I’d been through enough. Experienced firsthand what it was like to trust and reap the pain from it. Crushing on the hot doctor next door was ridiculous. Totally out of the blue. “And not happening,” I muttered, and reached into my pocket to check the time on my cell.

The rumble of a truck drew my focus back to the road, and the man of the hour—god, the century—trundled to a halt in front of the rickety front gate. The sleek black Dodge was loaded up with wood and heaven knew what else.

It didn’t matter. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the front of it where Mason sat behind the wheel. He cut the engine, gave me one of those sexy half-smiles through the window, and waved the keys at me.

I lifted a palm and waggled it like a wet rag. Oh my god, get it together. A blush crept up my cheeks, and I looked down to keep him from spotting it.

The truck door slammed, and his footsteps crunched over the sidewalk. The hinge on the gate creaked, wood slapped against wood, more footsteps, and finally I forced myself to look up again.

His bright green gaze cut into me, swept up and down my body and rested on my face again. “Morning,” he said. “I see you took me literally about the lemonade.” The words came out hitched, almost a growl.

I cleared my throat. “Yep.”

“Shit, I probably shouldn’t have brought these then.” He gestured to whatever was in his hand, but how was I supposed to focus on anything other than his eyes, his strong nose and jaw, and the tight blue cotton shirt that bit into his biceps?

“Huh?” I blinked and looked at the coffees he’d brought in Styrofoam cups. “Oh! Thanks!” I hurried forward just as he did, and we collided on the bottom step.

The coffees tipped toward me, but Mason shoved them aside at the last second, and they splattered to the ground instead. I slipped backward, the steps careening toward my ass.

Mason’s arm whipped out, caught me around the waist, and he righted me again. “Whoa, there.”

I was one step above him. My breasts grazed the top of his chest, my eyes slightly higher than his.

We stared at each other. Heat built again. I didn’t squirm, even though every inch of my body was aflame.

“I’m not usually this clumsy,” I said.

“Is that a compliment?” His breath brushed my skin and made everything so much worse—and better.

I tightened up for him, my pussy clenched, and I squeezed my eyes shut to regain control of myself.

“Hey, are you OK?” His fingers walked down my back and stroked against the fabric of my camisole. “Are you feeling faint?”

“No,” I said and opened my eyes, placing my hands against his chest—goddamn, it was hard as rock. “Sorry. Shoot.” I shifted back, out from his grip, and inhaled. “My fault. But I have a coffee pot in the kitchen. I can whip us up some while you, um, unload the truck.” I hurried back inside before he said anything else to stop me in my tracks all over again.

This was nothing more than raw, animal attraction.

He was unbelievably hot, and I was unbelievably deprived. That was all there was to it. It had nothing to do with the way he smiled, or his sense of humor, or the fact that he’d saved me from falling, what, two times already?

Either way, it was over before it’d begun. This was just me being horny.

I took my time whipping up the coffee, put that on another tray with cream and sugar, and carried the mugs out to the porch. I froze on the top step, the mugs clinking on the tray.

He was half-naked now. Sweat glistened on smooth abs, and his chest bore a smattering of hair. Mason’s massive hands carried a ladder, and he strode toward the side of the house, unaware of my presence or my constant gawking. Thank god for that.

Every movement he made was pure fucking temptation. My nipples puckered up, and I took it as a wake-up call.

I cleared my throat. “Coffee,” I called out.

“Great.” Mason set the ladder against the side of the house, then strode on over.

“Cream? Sugar?”

“Sure,” he replied.

I prepared his coffee for him and handed it over, the cup shaking slightly in my grip. Our fingers brushed, and I bit down on my lip to keep from making a noise. Mason took a sip and grinned at me over the rim. “It’s great. Way better than the shit I brought over. Thanks for this.”

“There’s lemonade too,” I said. “And if you want me to whip up something to eat, I’m more than happy to. I’ve got a whole kitchen full of new utensils.”

“Why’s that?”

“Oh, well, I lost all my old stuff. There was a…fire,” I said.

“Damn, I’m sorry to hear that.”

He had no idea how deep it went, or how sorry I was, and he didn’t need to. “No biggie,” I replied. “It was past time I got new stuff anyway.”

Mason nodded and took another sip of his coffee. “So, this is a fresh start for you, huh?”

“Yeah.” I forced myself to look at his face, rather than his body. God, what was wrong with me? Since when was I a friggin’ hound dog? “I’m looking forward to fixing this place up, and once I have the capital, maybe turning it into a bed and breakfast or something. I was a chef before I came here, so I figure I can incorporate that into this, somehow.”

“That’s awesome,” Mason replied, grinning again. “And I’m feeling even more excited about lunch now.”

At the word excited my gaze wandered down his body to the top button of his jeans. I glanced aside and looked out over the neighborhood.

The street was pretty empty, the houses set apart from each other to accommodate for massive lawns. It was quiet out here, peaceful. Just what I’d wanted after the big city. My memories of this place were scant. We’d visited here a few times as kids, and I’d always loved the solitude. Right now, that helped me lift my mind out of the gutter.

“You’ve got a gorgeous piece of land here,” Mason said after a beat. “I think a bed and breakfast will work just fine in this area. My only worry is it’s a little quiet.”

“Why is that a worry?” I frowned and focused on him again, swallowing hard.

Mason shrugged. “Just that you’re alone out here.”

“Not alone, alone,” I said. “You’re just up the street, and there are neighbors across the road over there.”

“The Jill House? That’s been empty for years,” he replied. “It’s just us out here.”

I shivered and resisted every primal urge I’d ever possessed. “So?”

“So, you might consider getting a dog. Or a snake. Fuckers in these parts are afraid of big snakes.”

“A snake? Are you trying to scare me or something?” I folded my arms and cocked an eyebrow. “Because I don’t scare easy.” After what I’d been through, how could I?

“No, I’m just being cautious. You’re a young woman on your own out here. Getting a guard animal would be wise,” Mason replied matter-of-factly and set down his mug on the tray. “Never mind the snake. Get a Rottweiler.”

“How do you know I don’t have a gun?”

“You packing?” Mason’s laugh was a throaty rumble. “Even if you are, Becca, you still need an early warning system. Let’s call it that. An alarm, too. Damn, I have a friend in town who can hook you up with one.”

Becca. I like that. No one’s called me Becca before. “Is this friend on his last leg like the last one?”

“No.” Another throaty chuckle. This one sent a shiver up my spine. “No, he’s not. I’ll call him on Monday and ask him to come over. I’m here all weekend, so I doubt you’ll need extra protection till then.”

“Here all weekend?” I asked, and my heart tha-thumped against the inside of my rib cage. “You’re not here at night.”

Mason opened his mouth slightly but didn’t speak. Instead, he slipped his tongue out and wet his lips. His gaze trailed down to my cleavage and rested there for a full two-second count.

The tension between us was overwhelming. We could hardly hold a proper conversation without ogling each other. It was awkward in the best possible way.

“No,” he said. “I won’t be here at night, but I’ll be just a phone call away.”

“I don’t have your number,” I replied and blushed. What were we, teenagers? Why was I so fucking hot? It had nothing to do with the Louisiana sun beating down on the grass or the warm breeze, and everything to do with this half-naked doctor on my porch.

“I don’t make a habit of giving it out. People call me at the practice, and that’s about it,” he said, then reached into the front pocket of his jeans and brought out his cell. He looked at me expectantly. “Your number.”

“Oh,” I replied, and gave it to him, then brought out my cell.

The exchange was just as awkward as the rest of the conversation had been, and just as hot. Sweat trickled between my breasts, my head pounded, and I reached for the lemonade instead of the coffee to cool down.

“Call me if you need anything,” Mason said and watched me drink. “And I mean anything. What are next-door neighbors for, right?”

Not for what I had in mind. I set down the lemonade and managed a smile. “Thanks.”

“I’ll get back to work,” he replied. “Those eaves aren’t going to fix themselves.” And just like that, he detached, turned, and strode off as if none of the ogling or longing or anything else had happened.

It was a good example of what I needed to do.

I didn’t know Mr. Hot As Heck Doctor, and I didn’t need to. This was a one-weekend deal, no more, no less, and it’d be over soon enough.