Chapter 3

There was a naked woman in his sister's living room.

Nearly naked, anyway. She wore only a bright yellow towel wrapped sarong-style around her torso and a blue towel twined like a turban on her head. Other than that, she was completely naked. Gloriously naked.

She was a tiny little thing-small enough that her cheek could rest right against his heart-but he didn't, not even for a minute, mistake her for anything other than a full-grown woman. Though slender, she had curves in all the right places. That yellow towel hid little and stressed everything else. That bare length of her thighs, the swell of her hips, the arch of her breasts, the delicate jut of her collarbone.

He swallowed, trying to ease the sudden dryness in his mouth. She was obviously just out of the shower and he was instantly aware that her skin would still be moist and the droplets of water would pool at the hollow of her throat.

His gaze slipped up to her eyes. They widened, mirroring his own surprise. Her lips parted, and he could have sworn he heard her gasp, which he knew wasn't possible. A good ten feet--not to mention the sliding-glass doors—separated them. She frowned, then spun around and hurried across the living room.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the spot where she'd been. He shook to clear it, then ran a hand down his face as if to scrub away his haziness.

Damn. The months of celibacy since Ginger left him had taken more of a toll than he'd realized. He had no idea who this woman was. In his earlier haste to get his rambunctious golden Lab, Madison, through the house and out into the backyard, he'd been too preoccupied to notice anything, and he'd probably left the front door locked. Scenes from half a dozen thrillers flash through his mind. He shoved them aside.

Great. Now he was paranoid.

Trying to muster a normal amount of brotherly indignation, he looked down at Maddie. "Who the hell was that?" Maddie barked once, then rushed around him to paw at the door as if saying, I don't know. Let's go find out. When he didn't move, Maddie looked over her shoulder and barked at him.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he told her. "But you're going to have to stay outside until I can finish cleaning those paws." Brad stopped, notching his head to the side. Now he was talking to his dog. Really at the top of his game, wasn't he?

He stepped into his sister's living room, blocking the doors with his foot so Maddie couldn't follow. Had Jessica ever mentioned having a roommate? He didn't think so. But the past couple of months he'd been distracted and for weeks now, he'd been swamped trying to clear his schedule so he could take some time off. For all he knew, she'd told him the seven dwarfs had moved in and he just hadn't been paying attention.

He headed down the short hall that led to the bedrooms, pausing only to wince at the screech of dog claws against the glass. Only one door closed. Figuring she had to be behind that closed door, he knocked.

"Go away, Brad." He frowned. She knew him? That was...odd. He raised his hand, paused for a second, then knocked again. "Excuse me, miss, but--" The door swung open. His beautiful terry-wrapped mystery woman was wrapped now in jeans and a UCLA sweatshirt. Her damp, finger-combed hair fell just to her jawline. The bulky clothes didn't lessen her impact on him. Her nearly naked image was still too fresh in his mind. Yet, in the seconds it took him to study her delicate heart-shaped face and her and her now loose hair, he realized his mystery woman wasn't such a mystery after all.

"Mattie?"

Eyes the color of summer moss narrowed. "Miss?"

"Mattie Wilcox?" He repeated. This was the girl he'd spent most of his senior year lusting after? "Sprout?"

Her eyes narrowed to slits, and she ignored the affectionate nickname he'd given her so long ago. "You didn't even recognize me." She propped her hands on her hips and tapped her toe. "Did you?"

His heart stuttered. All that glorious naked flesh belonged to Mattie Wilcox? He'd spent the better part of her senior year wondering about the body she kept hidden beneath her tomboy clothes. Back in high school, he would have killed to see her dressed only in a towel.

Heat flooded his body. As he struggled to make sense of this information, everything he believed about beautiful women rolled over in his mind. Playboy Bunnies had bodies like that. Women on Baywatch bodies like that. Childhood friends who'd been the object of innocent crushes were not supposed to have bodies like that.

He forced his attention back to her face."I..." He exhaled, frustrated by his sudden inability to compose a sentence. "No, I didn't." Her brow furrowed, and he quickly tried to repair the damage. "But I've never seen you in a towel before."

The furrow transformed into an all-out frown. He took a step forward, only to have her slam the door inches from his nose. He winced. For a minute, he just stared at the closed door. Then, shaking his head in disbelief, he turned and made his way back down the hall.

The sexy towel-wrapped mystery woman was Mattie Wilcox? Why hadn't he recognized her? They'd grown up together, for goodness' sake. Of course, he hadn't seen her in...jeez; he didn't know when he'd last seen Mattie Wilcox.

Brad crossed to the cream-colored sofa. He sank to the edge of the plush cushion and propped his elbows on his knees. He signed, rubbing his forehead with the heels of his hands.

More and more, it seemed, Ginger had been right. He just didn't know crap about women.

"Your dog wants in."

Brad jerked his head up and turned to look at her. He shook his head in bemusement as he studied her. Sprout. His little Sprout is all grown up. Well, not grown up, as much as grown...out.

She cleared her throat. He cringed, forcing his eyes back to her face. Ogling a naked stranger was one thing. Ogling Sprout was another. Growing up, she'd been like a sister to him. Most of the time.

Her father had been his high school football coach. Coach Wilcox had wisely recognized the growing attraction between his daughter and his star football player. When Coach pulled Brad aside and insisted he stay away from Mattie, Brad had resented the interference.

But there was no other man in the world he respected as much as Coach Wilcox—not even his own father—and so he'd kept his distance. Forced himself to think of her like a kid sister. And very much within reach. Something he was excruciatingly aware of as she walked past him toward the back door and her scent washed over him. She smelled like flowers. And something else as well. Something uniquely her.

Before he could say anything, she slid the door open just enough to grab the dog's collar. The dog tried to bound forward with a yip, but Mattie held tight, refusing to allow movement beyond the little floor mat.

"Sit," she commanded. Amazingly, the dog sat. Over her shoulder, Mattie asked, "Do you have a towel or something?" He'd left the towel he'd been using in the backyard. Since his dog now blocked the back door, Brad grabbed a dish towel from the kitchen table and handed it to her.

She reached for a paw, but before she could grab it, the dog stood. "Sit," she said again. This time, however, the god didn't. "What's her name?" She asked.

"Maddie"

"What?" When he didn't respond, she looked over her shoulder. "What?"

"I, um...that's the dog's name."

"Excuse me?"

"Her name--" he pointed to the dog. "--is Maddie." She narrowed her eyes. "I guess that explains why you didn't recognize me. You were expecting someone...furrier."

When he realized what she meant, he winced. He hadn't intended to insult her by naming his dog after her. For that matter, he hadn't intended to name his dog after her in the first place. Had he?

Had naming his dog Maddie been a subconscious attempt to reconnect with the real Mattie? Boy, that seemed pathetic. And he hadn't even gotten the spelling right. "Mattie is short for Madison. Not Matilda," he said wryly.

Her mouth formed a little O of surprise. The movement brought his attention to her lips. God, no one off-limits should have lips that lush. Before he had a chance to say anything more, a blush crept up her neck and she jerked her attention back to the dog. She ducked her head and a curtain of damp hair fell across her face, blocking his view of her cheek. The movement bared the back of her neck—slender, pale, vulnerable.

Brad squeezed his eyes closed against the sight. He inhaled and once again, her scent hit him. She smelled fresh and clean, yet feminine. Like flowers. The ones that his grandmother had grown in her garden back when he was a kid. Those flowers always smelled like home to him. Combined with Mattie's scent, the smell transported him back to a simpler time and flooded him with memories of warm summer days spent in Mattie's backyard.

"You smell good," he murmured. His eyes shot open as he realized he'd said the words aloud as well as thought them. Her back stiffened. She didn't look up. "Thank you." Wrestling for control of another paw, she added, "It's Jessica's. The scented soap, I mean."

He didn't bother to explain that he hadn't meant the soap at all. He'd meant her. But she didn't need to know that.

Instead, he said, "I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. I was expecting an empty house. Not you walking around--"

She didn't give him a chance to finish the thought. "I was expecting privacy in my own home."

"Your home?"

"Yes, I live here. I've been renting a room from Jessica for almost a year now." She moved on to the next paw. "So yes, this is my home. At least until Jessica gets back. I'm probably going to find something else then.

"Back?"

"From Sweden." She paused to look up at him. In the instant, before she looked back down, he thought he saw a flash of appreciation in her gaze. Only the barest hint tinged her cheeks. Was she blushing because she had to rent a room from Jessica or because he'd caught her checking him out? "She left today."

"Jess is in Sweden?"

Nodding, she redoubled her efforts. "Yes. For nine weeks. It was a last-minute thing. She tried to call you, but couldn't get through."

The second Mattie loosened her hold on the dog's collar, Madison bounded forward. All gangly legs and massive paws, she lurched across the room in the direction of the front door before changing her mind and heading down the hall.

Mattie watched Brad's dog disappear without comment. She smiled as she stood and handed him the now-filthy towel. "I'll let you take care of this. Laundry room's that way," she said, pointing down the hall.

He stared down at the cloth, absently rubbing his thumb across the grit. Finally, he repeated, "She's in Sweden?"

"Yep."

"For nine weeks?"

"Yep."