"Okay. No hard feelings. What the hell are you talking about?"

She rolled her eyes and shot him a look that clearly indicated that men were nothing but dunderheads. "Zoë. I'm talking about Zoë."

"Zoë? What about her?"

She made a fist and gently knocked on his forehead with her knuckles. "Hello? Are you home? I know you invited me today to save you from her, but she's obviously not the blind date from hell. In fact, she looks like she just wandered over from the Playboy Mansion." She pushed her hair back. "I don't want you to feel obligated to be with me. Really. Hey, if I was a guy, I know who I'd rather be with."

"Are you finished?"

She nodded. "Uh, yeah. I guess so."

"Good." He imprisoned her with his arms, pushing her back until she was trapped against the side of the pool. He pressed his body into hers, leaving no doubt as to his aroused state. Her eyes widened to saucers. "Since you're not a guy, thank God, I'm going to have to set you straight here." He rubbed himself against her, very slowly and very deliberately. "That's for you. Because of you," he murmured, staring into her brown depths, not even attempting to hide the desire he knew she'd read in his expression. "Just you. I've been hard and aching for you since the moment we got here. Jesus, it's embarrassing." He lowered his head and brushed his mouth over hers. "No matter how hard I try, I can't make it go away. You're driving me crazy."

"But what about Zoë?" she asked, slowly sliding her arms around his waist.

"Not my type," he murmured against her lips. "I talked to her for about five minutes and we ran out of things to say. To be blunt, she's dumber than dirt."

Melanie smiled against his lips. "I'm surprised you noticed. I talked to her also. She didn't strike me as the brightest bulb on the marquee."

He nipped at her dimples. "Yeah. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer."

"Couple of sandwiches short of a picnic."

Chris laughed. "I think we've made our point."

"Well, I wasn't thinking you'd necessarily want to spend your time talking to her."

Chris raised his head. He could see some emotion in her eyes, but he wasn't sure what it was. Jealousy? He hoped so. Hurt? He hoped not. He framed her face in his hands.

"Listen: Big-breasted lingerie models are not my type." He made a gagging sound. "Really. I feel breakfast coming up."

She shot him a clearly skeptical look. "Oh, sure."

Drawing a cross on his chest, he said, "Cross my heart. I prefer brunettes with short curly hair and big brown eyes." He paused for a moment, realizing that that sentence would not have passed his lips even three days ago. What the hell was happening to him? Since the moment he'd met Melanie, it was as if aliens had abducted his bachelor self.

He cleared his throat. "Now Mark, on the other hand, is as happy as a pig in mud talking to Zoë."

"Hmmm. I hope he isn't using any big words."

A grin spread over Chris's face. "You're jealous."

"Damn right. What woman wouldn't want a body like that? I've always dreamed of buying a thirty-eight triple D. And if I looked like that in a bikini, I'd wear one everywhere. Even to the supermarket. I'm pea green with envy."

His grin faded. "That's not what I meant."

She looked away and bit her lip. "I know. I'm sorry. But she's the kind of woman who makes every other woman feel frumpy, lumpy, flat-chested, and suicidal." She shrugged. "It's a girl thing."

"Ah. I see a bit of reassurance is in order." Wrapping his arms around her, he walked backward toward the deep end, pulling her along. His family, he noted, was busy gathering up their wet towels, preparing to leave.

When the water reached his neck he leaned back against the side of the pool and dragged Melanie toward him like he was reeling in a fish. When she was flush against him, he covered her mouth with his.

She hesitated for a second, then wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered his name in a breathy sigh that undid him. He hauled her up tighter against him with one hand while his other hand fisted in her short curls. He slipped his tongue past her lips and groaned when she opened her mouth wide to give him access. His senses reeled and he completely forgot where he was. He felt like a starving man who'd been given a feast; a man dying of thirst who'd been presented with a cool drink.

He slanted his mouth over hers again and again, his hand slipping down to stroke the curve of her buttocks. God only knew where his hand might have wandered next if a loud ahem hadn't sounded next to his ear. His brother's amused voice penetrated his passionate haze.

"Sorry to interrupt," Mark said, "but it's time to head back to the house."

Chris lifted his head and glared up at his brother. Zoë stood beside him.

Mark backed up a step and held out his hands, palms up. "Hey! Don't blast me with that look. I'm just saving you the embarrassment of Mom coming down here to get you. The sisters left a few minutes ago." A wide grin split his face. "They were all a-twitter over the goings-on down here in the deep end. I told them you were just doing your bachelor thing…" His gaze shifted to Melanie and he shot her a sheepish grin. "Oops. Sorry, Mel. Just kidding. Anyway, expect the third degree sometime tonight. See you back at the house." He wrapped an arm around Zoë's waist and they sauntered off.

"Jeez," Melanie moaned. "How embarrassing was that?" She pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. "I know I'm blushing. How can I face them? What will they think of me? I was ready to strip you bare right here in the pool. What on earth is wrong with me? I never behave like this!"

A slow grin curved his lips. "You were ready to strip me bare?"

She sent him a sizzling scowl. "That is not a good thing."

It was as far as he was concerned. On his list of things he wanted most, having Melanie strip him bare was firmly set in the number-one position. He looked at the hectic color blooming on her face and was completely charmed. He didn't know women still blushed.

Something inside him squeezed tight and he knew he was in big trouble. Actually, he'd known he was in deep doo-doo the minute he met her. No woman had ever affected him this way before. She appealed to him on every level-mental and physical. It was as if she'd reached inside his chest and grabbed his heart and soul with her fist.

And the fact that he preferred the woman in his arms to the genetically perfect and bodacious Zoë was just further proof of his problem.

He had a strong suspicion that an emotional minefield hovered just around the corner. He should run, not walk, in the opposite direction to avoid being blown to bits, but he couldn't seem to help himself.

Damn. This woman was putting a real crick in his swinging bachelor plans.

In fact, his swinging bachelor plans were looking more and more unappealing with each passing minute.

Damn, damn, double damn.

Chapter 5

Back at the Bishop house, Melanie used Chris's old room to change into her clothes. Once she was dressed, she spent a few minutes looking around.

Framed certificates and sports posters hung on the walls. Basketball and baseball trophies stood proudly on the bookshelf alongside pictures. One photo showed Chris in a basketball uniform, posing with his high school team. Melanie picked it up and studied it.

Yikes. He was handsome even in high school. A devilish smile lit his teenage face, and Melanie imagined a corp of cheerleaders fighting over him.

Another picture showed him in a black tux, his arm around a pretty girl in a pink formal. Obviously a prom. Again he looked incredible. Lucky girl. Melanie recalled her senior prom date and grimaced. She'd gone with John Klingerhammer, a boy she'd known since fourth grade who went by the unfortunate nickname of Itchy. He'd panted and pawed her all night until she'd finally jabbed him in the eye with her corsage. She hadn't spoken to Itchy since. He was probably doing time for assault.

She picked up another framed picture and smiled. It showed a teenage Chris and an adolescent Mark in their swim trunks, suntanned, soaking wet, and laughing. Mark's fingers made devil horns behind Chris's back, and Chris was giving Mark a head noogie.

Melanie replaced the photo, trying to banish the vivid image of Chris in his bathing trunks at the pool this afternoon, but it was impossible. The moment she'd laid eyes on him, she'd had to jump in the water to cool off.

His shoulders were strong and lightly tanned, and his chest was sprinkled with an intriguing patch of dark hair that arrowed down and disappeared into his trunks. She'd had an incredible urge to pull the waistband of his trunks out a few inches and see where that enticing line led. He was lean, muscular, and sent everything that was female in her into an immediate frenzied rampage.

And then there was that kiss. Whooooeee. She waved her hand in front of her face in an effort to cool the blush heating her cheeks. Being kissed by Christopher Bishop when he was fully clothed had left her breathless. Being kissed by him in the pool, his skin warm and wet, with nothing between them but their swimsuits, had practically killed her. God help her if she ever saw him naked. She'd have a stroke for sure.

Not that she was thinking along those lines. Oh, no. The thought of seeing Chris naked was the absolute farthest thing from her mind. Anyway, she knew what a naked man looked like. Seen one, you've seen 'em all. Nope. The words naked and Chris would never be in a sentence that passed her lips. Starting right now.