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Megan grinned at Gina. "I was just asking for details."
       "Ah." He nodded, pretending a seriousness he obviously didn't feel. The laughter in his eyes was infectious. "I never kiss and tell."
       He winked at Megan. "I'd better be on my way then," he said, swinging out of the chair as lithely as he'd sat down only minutes earlier. "I'll let you get back to pumping her for all the details. I know we Moores are legendary."
       Gina looked heavenward, muttering. "Great!" Realizing her only chance of escaping Megan's avid curiosity was about to walk away, she hammed it up, lowering her head into her hands, then resting it slowly on the table. "Just great."
       Nate ruffled her hair companionably then bent to plop a brotherly kiss on her bent neck. "You'll survive." From under her hair, she watched him grin across at Megan. "Your friend doesn't look all that scary to me."
       "Some kind of hero you are," Gina grumbled.
       "Sorry love, but you know what?" He chuckled, the sound going straight to her belly. "I don't do 'riding to the rescue on a white charger'. It does terrible things to my suit."
       A sharp tug on her hair, and he was gone.
       Gina looked up, attempting a scowl. Megan just burst into peals of laughter, tears streaming down her face. Eyes still bright, she grinned at Gina. "Tell me he's exaggerating about the 'legendary' status?" she demanded.
       Gina shook her head, a slow smile curving her lips. "Nope. No exaggeration at all."

    * * * *

    Another totally dull Saturday night was looming on the horizon. After running into Nate in town this morning—surely that couldn't have been a coincidence?—Gina had half-expected him to call. But he hadn't, and now she was sitting around at home with nothing much to do.
       She glanced around the cozy living room, half wishing more housework would materialize out of thin air, but it was as perfectly neat and tidy as it had been two minutes earlier. What else could she do to fill in the evening? It was way too early for bed, and the thought of settling down to watch a movie was beyond her. Unusually for her, she was filled with nervous energy. What on earth had he done to the quiet, boring Gina Longmire who'd been perfectly content with her quiet, boring life? Just one night, and he seemed to have banished her forever: leaving behind this sexually frustrated creature who hadn't even been able to sit still long enough to watch a rerun of 'Friends'.
       The linen cupboard. Perhaps she could sort through that? Gina was clutching at straws, and she knew it. Maybe she could rearrange her bookshelves then?
       She shook her head, a small part of herself finding it totally hilarious that the safe persona she'd erected to protect herself from her own emotions had been so easily shattered. Surely there had to be something she could do to take her mind off sex and, more specifically, to take her mind off Nathaniel Moore— local realtor and sex god.
       That did it! Sex god? Huh!
       Her mind—and other parts of her body too, she acknowledged ruefully—were running out of control. It was past time to find something to fill in the hours to bedtime.
       She drifted listlessly through the house, cataloguing possible chores and trying very hard not to wonder what Nate was doing right now. Or who he was doing it with. She found it very hard to believe that a man with such a huge sex drive didn't have a Saturday night date. Surely, he had to be in demand.
       In the kitchen she straightened the pot plants and tweaked the curtains closer together. This morning's hint of spring had well and truly disappeared and there was ice in the air. Even through the fogged glass she could feel the insidious cold, seeping through every chink in the old window frame. There'd be a heavy frost in the morning. She shivered, her lightweight wrap no longer holding off the chill despite the centrally heated warmth of the house.
       Enough was enough. She'd