“So, this is the lady you live with?” Gage asked in stunned disbelief.

“This is my Sophie,” Bryce said, a huge grin splitting his face as he gave Sophie a squeeze.

Sophie’s elbow dug sharply into his ribs.

“Ouch.” Bryce dropped his arm from around her and rubbed at his ribcage. “What was that for?”

“You know perfectly well,” she hissed. More than anything, Sophie wanted to call foul on whatever game Bryce was playing, but she had the good sense to wait until Gage was out of earshot.

Gage frowned, then his nose twitched.

“Do I smell something burning?”

“Oh, my gosh!” Sophie spun and yanked the oven door open. Smoke poured out, filling the small kitchen and gagging the occupants.

Gage reached around her and turned on the fan above the stove.

Bryce snatched up a dishtowel and flapped, something Sophie felt like doing with her hands, given the insane situation.

So, she did. Waving her hands at the two men, she herded them out of the kitchen.

“Out! Out. Go sit in the living room. Let me finish up in here.”

“Looks to me like you’re already finished,” Bryce said, and ducked as she took a swing at him.

Gage headed toward the living room with Bryce in his wake.

“Not so fast, you!” Sophie said as she snagged Bryce’s arm and pulled him back into the smoky kitchen.

“What’s the big idea?” she hissed. “Is this some kind of sick joke? ’Cause, if it is, I’m not laughing.” Sophie stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot as she awaited an explanation.

Bryce raised his hands. “Simmer down, Sis.” Bryce grinned. “So, what do you think of our new neighbor?” He ducked again as she reached for the closest object at hand. Blackened toast sailed past his ear.

She growled. “I think you are one sick little man. Quit messing with my life.”

“Oh, come on, Sis, think of the possibilities.”

“There are no possibilities. Even if there weren’t the fraternization thing, he’s not my type.”

“Well, then that won’t be a problem, ’cause he thinks you and I are a thing.”

“He thinks what?” she asked, her voice rising.

“You know...you, me, girl, boy...you know...a thing.”

Dismay settled around her shoulders. “Great. Now I’m having an affair with my brother. My life is pathetic.” Why it mattered was beyond her comprehension.

“Oh, he doesn’t know you’re my sister.”

“So, it’s supposed to make me feel better knowing he just thinks I sleep around with strangers?”

“Well, didn’t you?”

“Shut up, Bryce,” she snarled. “Why don’t you go entertain your guest?”

Bryce grabbed a couple of beers from the refrigerator and headed for the living room. Sophie turned to salvage the remnants of her not-so-home-cooked meal, wondering how she would face her new neighbor and carry on a normal conversation when all she’d be thinking was what a stud he was naked.

---

Gage sat hunched over with his elbows on his knees, cradling the cold beer between his hands. His mind wandered from Bryce’s monologue on the weather and local news.

Holy hell, he’d been overjoyed when he’d first seen Sophie in the kitchen. He’d finally found her. She was every bit as beautiful as she’d been the night they first met. His initial instinct had been to pull her into his arms and never let her go again. Thank goodness Bryce had interrupted when he did, or he would’ve made a total fool of himself. Gage shook his head.

I can’t believe this happening to me. What was last week all about? She was so hot. Dammit, she used me. And what does she see in Bryce? He’s so much younger than she is. Should I tell Bryce? Gage shook his head again. No, I can’t. I might end up saying more than I should. I’ll just have to pretend it never happened.

“...and a little old lady was arrested for juggling cantaloupe on main street...”

“Huh?” Gage caught the tail end of Bryce’s nonsensical chatter.

“You’re a goner,” Bryce muttered. “Hey, Gage, where did you go to, pal? You haven’t paid attention to a word I’ve said in the last fifteen minutes.”

Gage pulled himself from his dark thoughts. “Sorry, Bryce. Didn’t mean to wander. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“You still thinking about your goddess? Did you ever find her?” Bryce asked.

Gage tightened his jaw. “I’ve sworn off women. They’re faithless creatures, with no honor in a single bone in their bodies.”

“Man, sounds like you’ve been burned. Want to tell me about it?”

Gage looked up sharply. “No.”

“Fine. Didn’t mean to invade your space. But if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here, buddy.” Bryce glanced toward the kitchen. “I wonder when Sophie will have dinner ready. I’m starving. Hey, baby. Is it soup, yet?” Bryce yelled.

The clatter of pans intensified, accentuated by the sounds of cabinet doors slamming.

“My Sophie’s not the domestic type. Not like the girl on your list. But I’m sure she’d meet some of the qualifications, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Gage said as he visualized her naked, writhing beneath him in the sheets, her hair spread across the pillow like a golden cloud. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as his need rose in reaction to the conjured image. “She’s a good-looking woman, he murmured. “You’re a lucky man.”

“Yeah, I am, aren’t I?” he said, leaning back with a satisfied smile.

Gage looked across at Bryce and pictured Sophie as he had witnessed her in all her naked glory, then tried to visualize Bryce in his place. Maybe luck is not the word. Cursed would fit better in the case. The two-timing little witch. The more he thought about it the madder he got. She needs to be taught a lesson. She can’t just play with men and not suffer any consequences.

---

Sophie set the overcooked noodles to drain in the sink and turned to the task of scraping the charred surface of the garlic toast.

“Looks more like burnt offerings,” Sophie muttered, then shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I won’t have to worry about needing enough for seconds. Lord, I hate to cook.”

Sophie set the table with her best dishes then arranged the food in the middle. “Dinner’s ready,” she called loudly, then beneath her breath added, “for what it’s worth.”

The men trailed into the dining room and stood around the table. When Bryce didn’t move to seat Sophie, Gage pulled out her chair and waited for her to sit. As she took her seat, Gage’s hand brushed against her shoulder, sending a shiver of desire down her spine. His musky male scent wrapped around her, tantalizing her senses. Her blood was racing through her veins, giving a slight blush to her cheeks.

It was going to be a long evening.

Bryce attempted to pluck spaghetti noodles out of the bowl in front of him. As the fork rose, the entire bowl of pasta rose in one sticky clump.

“This is going to be interesting. What do you call this? Pasta el gummo?”

He retrieved a knife from beside his plate and cut a portion of the noodles out of the clump and plopped it in front of him.

“Sorry. I overcooked the noodles.” Sophie’s blush deepened, and she stole a glance toward Gage. He seemed unconcerned about the condition of the noodles as he stared skeptically at the sauce with black flecks swimming in the grease on the surface.

Bryce passed the bowl of noodles to Gage, who used his knife to cut a portion for himself. He added a small amount of sauce to the gummy noodles then sat starring at the mess on his plate. He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders and manfully dug his fork and knife into the offerings.

Sophie watched as he brought the first bite to his mouth. His expression remained unchanged, but his eyes began to water, and he blinked rapidly. He set down his fork and reached for his glass of water, swallowing half of its contents before returning it to the table.

Sophie took up her fork to taste it for herself. She almost gagged but managed to swallow the lump. She looked over at Gage and cringed. “I think maybe I used a little too much garlic salt.”

“Maybe just a little,” he agreed, then braced his shoulders and took another bite.

Bryce eyed the food on his fork and hesitantly brought it to his mouth. He took one bite and spat it back onto the plate. “Geez, Sophie, what did you put in this? It’s awful. We can’t eat this garbage.”

“No, really, Bryce, it’s not all that bad. Give it another try.” Gage raised another bite to his mouth, only this time it was smaller than the last.

“No way, Buddy. I’m calling for pizza.” Bryce rose and headed for the phone.

“I’ll look up the number,” offered Sophie.

“No need. The number’s on speed-dial on my phone out of pure self-defense.”

Bryce left the dining room to make the call. Gage and Sophie could hear him place the order.

Sophie wrinkled her nose. “I’m not much of a cook, but I don’t usually poison my guests. I didn’t even know you were coming to dinner until an hour ago. Bryce informed me as I was picking myself up off the ground—after your dog attacked my cat.”

Gage blinked. “How did you end up on the ground, if the dog was attacking the cat?”

“The cat was in my arms.”

As if on cue, Cujo yowled impatiently at the back door. Sophie had completely forgotten to let the cat in after the fiasco with the dog. She went to the back door and opened it, grateful for the respite from being alone with Gage.

Cujo sat in the doorway, staring first at the threshold, then up at Sophie. He rubbed his whiskers on the edge of the doorframe and followed along the doorframe with a long, slow body rub.

“All right, already. For a cat who yowled like the yard was on fire, you sure are taking your sweet time getting in the door.” Placing her foot behind Cujo’s tail, Sophie scooped him the rest of the way through, then closed the door behind him, narrowly missing his tail.

Cujo’s nose twitched at the aroma—garlic, his favorite. He headed for the dining room and leapt into the nearest chair.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Sophie swatted him from the chair and gathered the dishes to carry them into the kitchen.

Gage pushed away from the table and stood to help her. In the kitchen, Sophie scraped the ruined dinner into the garbage disposal and placed the plates in the sink. Gage appeared beside her and filled the sink with warm water. “Where’s the dish soap?”

“Don’t bother. I can clean these later.”

“I insist on helping. Where is the soap?” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

“Under the sink,” she replied and hastily stepped

aside, allowing him to open the cabinet door.

Gage crouched next to her and reached for the soap. His gaze traveled the length of her legs as he slowly rose beside her.

Sophie’s breath caught, and she fumbled for a cloth from the drawer beside her. She took the dish soap from Gage’s hands, poured a small amount into the running water, then began scrubbing the dishes, putting more force into the act than necessary. Anything to keep from having to face the man in the room.

Gage reached around her into the same drawer to pull out a dishtowel.

She felt the warmth of his breath against the loose tendrils curling at the back of her neck. Sophie’s breasts swelled, her nipples tightened and her breath quickened.

“Here, you dry,” she said, and shoved a wet plate into his belly.

Gage polished the plate until it was dry and looked for a place to put it. “Where do you put your plates?”

“The cabinet above me, and to the left.”

To Sophie’s dismay, when he reached around her to place the plate in the cabinet, his body pressed hers against the sink.

The plate she held slipped from her fingers into the sudsy water, and she melted back against his chest.

Gage hesitated before sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her hips against his bulging arousal. He bent to nuzzle the back of her earlobe, before taking it between his teeth and tugging gently.

Sophie moaned and placed her hands on top of his. The room seemed to close in around them, and the air charged with their electricity.

“The pizza will be here in fifteen minutes,” Bryce called out from the living room, breaking through the sensual haze into which Sophie had fallen.

Gage’s hands jerked from her waist as if he’d been scalded. He spun away from her and dragged his hand through his hair. After several deep breaths, he reached for a beer in the refrigerator. “I think I’ll join Bryce in the living room,” he said and beat a hasty retreat.

What is the matter with me? I’m an adult, not an oversexed teenager. All that man has to do is look at me, and I melt. I have got to get a grip. Sophie lingered over the task of washing dishes, and then killed more time, scouring the counter tops. Delaying the inevitable. At last, she set fresh plates out on the table in anticipation of the pizza’s arrival. She dreaded facing Gage, but she was out of excuses for remaining hidden in the kitchen, without appearing cowardly. When she entered the living room, she avoided eye contact with Gage.

“I thought you’d left the country. What took you so long?” Bryce asked.

Trust Bryce to announce her entrance. As she entered the living room, Sophie’s eyes narrowed at her mischievous brother. She noticed that Cujo had established residence on Gage’s lap. That was unusual for Cujo. He normally didn’t like men—the traitor.

Gage was casually stroking his fur as he finished the discussion he was having with Bryce on the use of steroids in sports. He was totally against the use of steroids, although he looked like he had taken them for years. His shoulders were broad and muscular, solid proof of a rigorous workout program.

Bryce glanced her way, motioned to a chair and then smoothly switched the conversation. “I guess that meal would absolutely disqualify a candidate from your list, huh, Gage?”

Gage looked up in surprise, and then glanced at Sophie as if gauging her reaction.

“What list is that?” Sophie asked, curiosity winning over caution. She looked at Gage.

He visibly cringed. “Oh, it’s nothing.” Gage turned to Bryce. “Did you see the game last night?” It was an obvious attempt to change the subject.

“Gage has a list of the qualities he wants in a woman.” Bryce crowed gleefully, refusing to acknowledge Gage’s diversion.

Sophie’s eyes narrowed, and she raised her eyebrows. “A list? Is it actually on paper; something you carry in your wallet like a shopping list? Do you go around testing women like you’d test a melon in the produce aisle?” Indignant, she rose halfway from her chair, and then sat back, taking deep, calming breaths. “And just what qualifications do you require?” she continued with pseudo detachment.

Gage frowned. “Can we just drop the subject? It’s more or less a guy-thing. Nothing serious.”

“Oh, no, really, go ahead. I’d like to hear all about these qualifications. I’m sure it’ll be interesting.”

A ruddy red blush rose in Gage’s cheeks, and a frown wrinkled his brow, but he refused to say anything.

Bryce piped in, “Well, for one, she has to be a good cook. Guess that leaves you out, Sophie. It’s a good thing you have me, huh? I have the number to the pizza delivery.”

Ignoring Bryce’s juvenile glee, Sophie glared at Gage. “Is that the only thing you’re looking for in a woman? If so, I have an elderly grandmother who happens to be a great cook. She’s single.”

Gage stubbornly refused to comment and took a long drink from his beer.

“She can’t be a ditz. And what was the shape thing?” Bryce’s forehead wrinkled in a frown of concentration, then he looked to Gage.

Gage glared at Bryce.

But Bryce could not be deterred. His forehead smoothed and his lips curled into a smile. “Oh, yeah...” he continued, then paused for effect, and raised his hands to his chest, cupping his fingers. “She has to be at least a ‘C’ cup”.

Gage choked on the beer he was in the process of swallowing. He coughed and sputtered and refused to meet Sophie’s gaze.

Heat rose to her cheeks as she looked down at her own perky ‘B’s, suddenly feeling inadequate and stupid. “Was there anything else?” Sophie prompted out of morbid curiosity.

“Yeah, the three G’s,” Bryce glanced at Gage, then looked back to Sophie.

Gage made frantic slicing gestures across his throat, so she returned to Bryce. “Go on, what are the three G’s?”

“His perfect woman has to be gorgeous, graceful and great in bed,” Bryce said triumphantly. “Of course, the last qualification would have been number one my list.”

Sophie’s jaw dropped.

Bryce stood and walked out of the room. “Excuse me a moment. I need to see a man about a horse. Sophie, why don’t you entertain our guest?”

Silence engulfed the living room. Sophie’s mouth closed with a snap. Heat spread up her neck and burned into her cheeks. She waited until the bathroom door closed behind Bryce then turned her fiery gaze onto the object of her ire. “So, did I meet your expectations?” Sophie hissed. When he didn’t respond, she tenaciously demanded, “Well?”

“I couldn’t have paid and gotten better,” Gage said with deliberate sarcasm.

“How dare you!” she sputtered, coming to her feet.

Gage stood, pushed his face close to hers and whispered, “At least I’m not two-timing anybody.”

“Two-timing?” Sophie stopped short of setting him straight, but was still unwilling to back down from the argument. “What gives you the right to stand in judgment of me? You don’t even know who I am.”

“I do now, and if I’d known then what I know now, I wouldn’t have let it go as far as it did.”

“Same here!”

They stood nose to nose, breathing fast, anger feeding their passion.

“Hell!” Sophie grabbed Gage’s collar and pulled him toward her. She crushed her lips to his.

Gage didn’t immediately respond, until she bit down softly on his bottom lip. His fingers reached around, clutching a handful of her hair, dislodging the pins and loosening the tresses to fall around her shoulders. His other hand cupped her breast, and he pushed a knee between her legs. The kiss deepened.

The sound of a toilet flushing brought them back to reality, dousing their passion.

Gage released her and took several steps backward to put space between them. He raised his hands as if to ward off another passionate attack. “It ends here. This cannot happen again.”

“That’s fine with me. As far as I’m concerned, it never happened,” Sophie agreed emphatically.

“Great. The less we see of each other, the better,” Gage said, as he turned toward the door to leave. “Tell Bryce something came up, and I had to leave.”

With that parting comment, he stomped out the door, letting the screen slam behind him.

Sophie’s gaze followed him and her heart hammered in her chest. Good riddance, Mr. Perfect.