Jake shut the cabin door and crossed his arms, not even trying to hide his amusement. “Fuzzybuns?”

Clem had two choices. Either bluster her way through the rest of this conversation, or let her mortification melt her from the inside out like a wax candle. “Sure. It’s a perfectly acceptable pet name for someone whose buns are…ah…fuzzy.”

“You’ve been thinking about my buns, Clementine?”

She winced so hard, the skin on her forehead hurt. “Fine. I may have panicked a little. I think Chastity’s getting suspicious.” She walked over to the fireplace and turned on the switch. The gas unit wasn’t exactly roughing it, but she’d never been one to complain about convenience, especially after an evening chill had seeped into the humid air.

“That’s because you look at me like you’re afraid I’m going to bite you.”

“How am I supposed to look at you?”

He stepped in front of her and tilted her chin with his fingers, forcing her to meet his deep brown eyes. “Like you can’t wait to get your hands on me. Like every time our eyes meet, you can’t help but think of the last time I made you scream so hard you forgot your own name.” Her breath hitched. He leaned closer, mouth brushing against her ear. “Like you’re obsessed with thinking about my fuzzy buns.”

He pulled away and gave her a wink.

She rubbed her palms against her thighs, trying to mask the fact it felt like he’d just tapped into her most intimate thoughts and repeated them out loud. “Well, I suppose I could just call you Sugar Puff or Snugglebum.”

He laughed. “I’m not sure that’s going to work any better.”

She followed him to the kitchen and accepted one of the beers he grabbed from the fridge. “So what do you suggest?”

He took a long sip and narrowed his eyes. “What does the character in that book you’re reading call her lover?”

She paused with the bottle at her bottom lip and felt her mouth go dry. “Master.”

He choked on his beer again, coughing into his wrist. “Yeah, maybe you should just stick to calling me Jake.”

“Okay,” she croaked while silently considering crawling back into the fishing boat and setting herself adrift.

“Hey,” he said after a few seconds, ending the awkward pause. “I have an idea.”

With his hand on her lower back, he steered her to the living room and pulled a Scrabble box from beneath the coffee table.

“Board games?” A touch of excitement replaced her earlier embarrassment. “I’m warning you now that I’m super competitive.”

“Good to know, but this isn’t going to be your average Scrabble game.”

Strip scrabble? She cringed internally. Why did her mind go there automatically?

Because he’s gorgeous. And you’ve pictured him naked more than once over the years.

A shiver rippled down her spine as she tried to shake the unwelcome thought out of her head. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“We’re going to use this as an opportunity to get to know each other better.”

Her curiosity was definitely piqued. “All you’re going to learn is that I kick ass at Scrabble.”

He set the box on the coffee table and unfolded the ancient, well-worn board. “That’s already something I should know about you if we’re dating.”

“Because we’d be playing a lot of Scrabble?” She sat down in the armchair next to him and started flipping the tiles over in the lid of the box.

“Isn’t that something you’d do with your ideal boyfriend?”

Her mouth fell open, hand stilling just as she was about to flip over the Q. How did he know her better than she knew herself? “Yeah, it is. What about you?”

“I haven’t ever given it much thought, but I guess we’ll find out.”

Because his ideal relationship is no relationship at all, she reminded herself with a mental kick to the shins.

They picked out their respective seven tiles with the ruthless quiet of two people utterly determined not to lose. Clem held on to her poker face as she examined the combination perched against her little wooden rack: R, A, S, T, J, Y. Not great, not terrible either. She’d have to see what Jake started with.

Green. Not bad. Fourteen points. “I would have gone with genre.”

“I know. I bet you would have placed vertically instead of horizontally, too.”

Holding back a smile wasn’t easy. “It messes with people’s heads when you start vertically.”

“Interesting bit of psychology.”

She shrugged one shoulder and peered surreptitiously at her letters, devising her next move. Jag? Tear? “So, have you unlocked all my secrets yet?”

“Not even close. Now you have to tell me something about yourself that has to do with the word green.”

“Excuse me?”

“I told you this wasn’t an ordinary game.” He picked up his replacement tiles, not giving anything away with his expression. “Now spill.”

She crossed her arms. “Fine. My eyes are green.”

“I know. I’ve looked into them for almost three years while you pretend to consider the monthly specials before ordering a lager. Every. Single. Time. Now tell me something I don’t know.”

She toyed with her letters, separating the vowels from the consonants. “Hmmm. My first job was at a golf course.”

“That wasn’t on your resume.”

She glanced up, not expecting him to have remembered such an insignificant detail. Then again, it did provide a built-in excuse for taking more time to devise her next word. “Because I only lasted one summer before I realized it wasn’t for me. I was seventeen. It sounded like such a great job when I applied. Ride around in a golf cart all day and make sure the tee times flow properly. I always thought it was supposed to be this blissfully silent game, but it turns out amateur golfers love to talk. And get really drunk.”

“I know the type.”

“Really? You golf?”

“Mandatory part of being a bajillionaire businessman’s son.” His tone was light, but there was a tightness to his words, as though a river of history and emotions were pushing against them, looking for cracks to seep through. “Though we mostly golfed at the North Winds Club, not the public courses.”

“Any good?” She picked up the Y and considered her next move.

“Went to college on a golf scholarship, but I quit after sophomore year so that I could focus more on my studies.”

“Wait,” she set the tile back down. “You were a nerd?”

“No, but I knew I needed the knowledge from my degree to be successful in life and I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. And for the record, my first job was working in my dad’s company, doing filing, which I was excellent at, by the way.”

“But—”

“No buts. If you want to ask me more questions, play your word.”

“Alright.” She laid out four tiles beneath the N.

“Nasty? That’s all you’ve got?”

She nodded and waited for his answer.

He shifted in his seat and stroked his hand along his jaw. “I have what you could call a nasty addiction to…” She sucked in her breath, waiting for his response. “Cleaning.”

“What?”

“Don’t go making that sour face. I’m serious. It’s terrible. Stick me in front of the nastiest, grimiest surface with a bucket of soapy water, a sponge, and some rubber gloves, and I’ll be the happiest guy on the block.”

“That’s…kind of weird.”

He nodded, but his smile didn’t leave his face. “That’s what Eli says whenever I try to help him clean out the kegs. He complains I’m taking work away from his assistants.”

“So you don’t like fishing or golfing, but cleaning is your hobby of choice?”

“Yep.”

“I guess that means I cook and you do the dishes in our fictional relationship.”

“Not a chance. I do the cooking. And the dishes.”

She crossed her arms and gave a mock scowl. “And what am I doing while you’re slaving away?”

“Relaxing. Reading. Getting pampered like a queen.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Somehow I think this fantasy is more about me than you.”

“Nah, this one is all for me because the only thing you’d be wearing while lounging around is sexy lingerie.”

He winked at her, cutting through the millions of jumbled thoughts suddenly whirring in her brain.

She cleared her throat. “Porn-star elements aside, that sounds a little too perfect to be real.”

“That’s because it is.”

Right. Stop forgetting that. She picked up the four replacement tiles and arranged them alphabetically.

“But if it makes you feel better, you can do all the laundry. Folding, ironing—”

“Removing the lint from the lint drawer?”

He laughed. “All yours.”

She grinned. “Good, because I would fight you like a jealous tabby cat if you got between me and my lint.”

“Guess I know something nasty about you now, too.” He laid out his tiles and rubbed his palms together. “Vinyl.”

The ensuing discussion of record collections and music was so engaging they almost forgot about the game entirely, which was unusual considering she wasn’t lying about her competitiveness when it came to Scrabble. As the game progressed, she managed to find out he loved dogs, but didn’t have time to take care of one, had visited three continents before opening the Holy Grale, and at six years old he wanted to grow up to be a barber because he was fascinated by the blue disinfectant solution.

Even more surprising, she had revealed a few closely guarded secrets of her own, like the fact she slept with a stuffed platypus until she was nine and had a massive crush on Dan Rather as a teen. She just didn’t tell him that crush was still active. Opening up like this should have left her raw and exhausted. But for some reason, talking with Jake didn’t feel like driving with a punctured gas tank. If felt comfortable. Fun. Not at all like an interrogation. He had an instinct for how to draw her out of her shell.

He also had 257 points. Twenty-two more points than her.

But that was about to change. With only a few turns left, she’d picked up an utter goldmine. R, A, G, and S. Add that to her M, I and O, and she was set to unload her seven letters for bonus fifty points, as long as he didn’t take that much needed N on his next turn. She didn’t know what kind of insight the word “Organism” would give her, but she was willing to find out for a whooping seventy-two points, counting the double word score. With only a pair of tiles left in the box, she would be the guaranteed winner.

Her pulse kicked up like she was pounding her way through the last hundred meters of a marathon. His hand hovered near the free N and she wanted to scream. He pulled back and squinted, which drew attention to the thin lines crinkling around his eyes.

Come on. There’s a nice, open R waiting for you on the other side of the board… Shit.

He laid down two little tiles and broke her heart. She didn’t even bother to hide her scowl. “Can? That’s not even an interesting word. You had the chance to find out my dream ride if you’d gone with car, but now all you’ll learn is that my favorite soup is creamy tomato.”

“Sounds like you’re feeling the pressure,” he said as he smugly added six points to his tally. “And for the record, mine’s chicken noodle.”

“Not at all.” Lies. She had no idea what to do now. She scanned the board and searched vainly for another N. They’d been neck and neck for most of the game and she did not want to lose now. She switched the M and the G on her rack, hoping for a flicker of inspiration.

She got a heck of a lot more than she bargained for.

He’d left the C wide open. There was enough room to unload all her tiles. The question was, did she have the guts? She picked up the O, steeled her breath, and set it down on the board. She didn’t look at Jake’s face, but she could sense the moment he figured out what she was spelling.

She cleared her throat, flipped her tile rack over to show it was empty and took hold of the pen. “Seventy-two points. Try to beat that.”

“Orgasmic?”

She knew the moment her eyes met his, there would be a spark, but this felt like she’d been set on fire from the inside out. Every inch of her skin prickled.

“We’re launching an ‘Oh God Yes’ Oat Stout this fall. I think you’ll like it.”

Disappointment welled in her throat, but she swallowed it back. What did she expect? That he was going to tell her he preferred to come with a woman’s ankles draped over his shoulders, or that tying someone up and breaking out the whips got his crank turning? That thought sent a small brush of wind over the embers still smoldering inside her. “I’m a creature of habit. You’ll have a hard time convincing me to drink anything but a lager.”

“I’m sure I could coax you into trying some new things.”

“Maybe, but losing’s not one of them. Ready to admit defeat?”

“Yep, there’s nothing I can do with a J and a P. Good job.”

He held out his hand to shake. An electric shock passed between them when his warm palm touched hers, crackling all the way down her spine. She swallowed back the mix of anxiety and anticipation bubbling in her throat and forced herself to meet his eyes. The intense way he was looking at her made her wonder if he hadn’t felt it, too. Or maybe he was just fascinated by the way her left eye was twitching uncontrollably.

They weren’t even twenty-four hours into this trip, she reminded herself. There were still six more days to go. This was not the time to get weird. “Thanks. Um, it’s a little late. I think I’m going to turn in soon. Do you want to shower first?”

“Go ahead. Consider it your prize for winning. I’ll clean this up.”

She scurried off to the bathroom at the back of the cabin. Like the rest of the place, the room was small, but well maintained with luxurious touches. The whitewashed walls and navy accents that carried throughout all the rooms gave it a soothing coastal vibe. Open wood shelves were lined with plush blue towels and rich smelling hand soaps, which only added to the feeling that the rental was designed mainly for couples on a romantic getaway.

Knowing Jake might want a chance to rinse off too, she kept her shower as short as possible in case the hot water was limited. She toweled herself dry, threw on her flannel pajamas, and headed to the bedroom to steal some extra linens from the closet so she could set herself up on the living room couch for the night.

As soon as she opened the door, she saw a surprise waiting for her on the bed and cursed under her breath.

She should have known her family wouldn’t let her get through one day without meddling. She picked up the industrial-sized box of extra-large condoms and read the attached note. Don’t use them all in one night. Love C & C. If she didn’t love her sisters so much, she’d be picking out tombstones and writing their eulogies. Instead of plotting a murder, she tucked the box beneath the sheets she’d taken from the closet and resolved to talk to her sisters about boundaries in the morning. Not that it would do any good.

In her rush to hide the evidence, Clem stepped into the hallway and collided with Jake. She yelped and the box of condoms popped out of her hands. Horror speared her stomach as the little blue packages of condoms scattered everywhere like an exploding can of snakes.

“Oh my god!” She sank to her knees and tried to scoop up as many of the condoms as she could before Jake saw, but it was futile. He leaned over, picked up a strip, and furrowed his eyebrows.

“You going to tell me what’s going on?”