No! He wanted to live it up-have all kinds of guy fun. Sow some oats. Date a hundred women. Yeah. That's what he wanted.

Wasn't it?

He'd certainly thought so.

Until two days ago.

He sneaked a peek at Melanie and stifled a groan at the arousing sight of her, wet and sun-kissed, her swimsuit molded to her like a second skin.

All right, so maybe he only wanted one woman. The sexy brunette in the pool. Wanted her so much he thought he was going to explode.

He blew out a breath. This did not bode well for his bachelor lifestyle, but somehow the realization didn't panic him. If anything, it filled him with a sense of relief. No more empty, awkward dates. He could spend all his time and energy pursuing one woman… one particular woman.

One particular woman? Whoa! The enormity of that slapped him with the force of a brick to the head. He could practically feel his long-awaited freedom evaporating like smoke in a windstorm. No way was he giving up the ship. Damn it, he was going to be a bachelor if it killed him!

Clearly he was suffering from a case of too-much-work, not-enough-play syndrome. And if Melanie was the one his annoyingly particular libido wanted, so be it. Surely if they slept together, she'd be purged from his system along with everything about her that threatened his lifestyle.

As long as he was up-front that he wasn't looking for a long-term relationship, he wouldn't feel guilty when they parted ways. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain by pursuing her. What was the worst that could happen?

She could say no.

His heart thunked in protest. No was not an option he cared to contemplate, especially when yes was so much better.

Hmmm. Sleeping with Melanie. Melanie in his bed, tousled from a bout of hot sex. That was definitely something to consider.

And where better to consider it than in the pool? Glugging down the rest of his Coke, he debated how best to slip into the water without anyone noticing his condition. He'd just decided to make a run for it when Mark jabbed him in the ribs.

"She's really something, Chris," Mark said in an undertone. "Every time I look at her, my bathing suit gets tight. I'm so horny I can barely think straight."

Chris slowly lowered the Coke can from his lips. "What?" He must have heard Mark wrong. He didn't just say horny. His brother couldn't be lusting after Melanie.

"I said she's something. A totally bitchin' babe. Cripes, what a bod." A wolfish grin lit Mark's handsome face. "I'm not sure what office she's running for, but she definitely has my vote."

Great. His twenty-one-year-old brother had the hots for Melanie. This had to be nipped right in the bud. Melanie was his. Well, she wasn't his. Yet. But he meant to change that. ASAP.

God, what am I thinking? He raked his fingers through his hair again in frustration. She wasn't his. He didn't want her. Mark was welcome to her.

Okay, he wanted her. But he didn't want to want her. And he definitely did not want Mark to want her. If Mark so much as touched her, Chris would have to hurt him.

"Back off, bro," he drawled in as casual a tone as he could manage. "Melanie's mine."

Mark lowered his sunglasses and peered at him over the rim. "Huh?"

Chris lowered his sunglasses and stared right back. "Mine," he repeated. "Hands off."

A crooked smile slashed across Mark's face. "Whoa, big brother. Not that Melanie's not terrific, but I was talking about Zoë." He practically smacked his lips. "She's the one who has my trunks in an uproar."

Chris gave him a blank stare. "Zoë? The florist with the unpronounceable last name?" Chris's mom had introduced them at the house. They'd exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes, then Chris had promptly forgotten her.

"Hell, Chris, are you freakin' blind? Look at her." Mark jerked his head toward the other end of the pool. Zoë lounged on a chaise, her curvy body on display in a hot-pink bikini that barely covered the essentials. Her long, curly blond hair was piled on top of her head, and she was flipping through the pages of a magazine.

"That's the florist?" Chris couldn't help but stare for several seconds. The woman was this close to getting arrested for indecent exposure.

"That's the florist," Mark confirmed. "I talked to her for a while back at the house. She only works at the flower shop one day a week." He leaned closer. "She's a model for Stacy's Armoire."

"The lingerie company?"

"Can you believe it? Who would have thought that Cousin Margie's second cousin's neighbor's sister would turn out to be a lingerie model. I can just picture her in a satin teddy. Holy hell. Somebody throw cold water on me." Mark sat up and faced Chris. "Look, I know Mom invited her for you, and I know how you're into the bachelor thing, but… ah… is there any chance you'd consider…" His voice trailed off.

Chris smiled and gave Mark a playful punch on the arm. "Knock yourself out."

"You sure? I wouldn't want to step on your toes."

Chris looked over at Zoë. Her hot-pink bikini top resembled two postage stamps connected by a wisp of dental floss. His gaze shifted to Melanie. For some inexplicable reason, her modest black one-piece sent a shivering tingle through him that Zoë's blatantly sexy attire did not. Damn. I've got it bad.

"No toes stepped on," Chris assured his brother. "Why don't you mosey on over there? Zoë probably needs someone to rub oil on her back."

Mark clutched his heart. "A dreary job, deserving combat pay, but someone's gotta do it. Can't have all that luscious female flesh getting sunburned." He saluted Chris and made his way over to Zoë. Within twenty seconds he was smoothing oil on her back with one hand and giving Chris a thumbs-up with the other.

Good. Now at least Chris didn't have to worry about his mother shoving Zoë at him the rest of the night.

Of course Mom had changed her tune when he'd arrived with Melanie and Nana. He suspected that his mother hadn't really believed he would show up with a date. She'd taken charge, eagerly greeting and introducing Mel and Nana to the other guests, then settling them in lawn chairs with cold drinks.

Melanie had immediately hit it off with his three sisters, and while his mom and Nana yakked like they'd known each other for years, Chris, Mark, and the brothers-in-law sat at the picnic table, talking sports, cars, and power tools, and drinking beer. Real macho, he-man stuff.

After an hour of chit-chat, everyone except his mother and Nana had wandered down to the pool. They'd settled their belongings on lounge chairs, and Chris had opened his mouth to ask Melanie if she needed sunscreen, but the words froze on his lips.

She was shimmying herself out of her denim shorts. He'd stood, transfixed, watching her pull her T-shirt over her head. He realized she wasn't trying to be provocative or sexy, and that just made her all the more so.

He'd felt himself stirring against his trunks and quickly sat down. That was forty minutes ago. He was still throbbing, but it was time to get up and jump into the pool. He wanted to be next to her, feel her wet skin sliding against his. Touch her slicked-back hair. Kiss her luscious lips.

He hoped the pool water was chilly because he definitely needed some cooling off. Walking to the edge as quickly as he could, he made a shallow dive.

He surfaced several yards from Melanie and his niece and swam over to them. He stood and was relieved that the water reached his waist. Whew. At least he didn't have to kneel. "Uncle Chris!" five-year-old Amanda squealed. "Toss me high like you did last time!" She turned to her new best friend. "Watch this, Mel. It's way cool!"

Chris obligingly tossed Amanda up, catching her before she went under the water. After the fifteenth toss, he pleaded exhaustion.

"Gotta rest," he said, huffing and puffing in an exaggerated way. "I'm an old man." He tousled her hair. "Tell you what. I have a present for my favorite girl in my bag." He pointed to the gym bag under his lounge chair. "Why don't you go check it out?"

Amanda needed no second urging. She hopped out of the pool, ran across the cement, and pounced on the gym bag like a starving dog on a bone. "A new Barbie! And it's the one I wanted! Thanks, Uncle Chris!" Returning to the side of the pool, she planted a wet kiss on Chris's upturned cheek, then scampered over to her mother. "Mom, look!"

Chris walked over to Melanie. "Alone at last."

"Did you actually buy that Barbie doll yourself?" she asked.

Chris ran his gaze over her. He wanted to touch her. Had to touch her. He slid a single fingertip down her wet arm, encouraged by the shiver he felt run through her. "I not only picked out Barbie all by myself, I bought her a teeny-weeny party dress."

"I'm impressed. I would have thought most guys would be too intimidated to buy doll stuff."

"Not me. I love toy stores."

She stood next to him at the side of the pool and stared down at the water. She seemed as tongue-tied as he was. Chris reached over and took her hand, entwining their fingers. He wondered how she would react if he kissed her, if she would mind, with his family all around. He was just about to find out when she spoke.

"Listen, Chris," she said, her words coming out in a rush, "this is kind of embarrassing for me, and I'm sure it is for you, too. I mean, obviously you didn't know she was going to be the way she is, so it's probably best if you just take me home as soon as we get back to the house."

He stared at her, unkissed and clueless. "What?"

She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. "I understand. Really. No hard feelings."