by rugged sensuousness. Coarse stubble filled the lower half of his face—another change since high school. Back then, he’d fretted he’d never be able to grow a beard. Didn’t seem to be an issue now.
In answer to her question, he nodded to her feet where the Frisbee lay again and a pair of hopeful eyes beamed from a chocolate snout. “Because Chesney doesn’t know when to stop. She’ll chase and fetch as long as you’ll throw.”
Chance’s closeness brought the tangy smell of Irish Spring soap to her nose. The scent chased her memory across nine years to a morning when his parents left early, and she’d gone to his house before school. They’d showered together, making love standing up, enveloped in warm water and Irish Spring-scented steam.
She grabbed the Frisbee and tossed the memory away with it. “One more and that’ll have to hold us.”
“I was afraid you’d stand me up.” The corners of Chance’s mouth lifted as he took another sip of his coffee.
He wouldn’t be grinning if he knew how many times that thought had crossed her mind since last night.
“Wouldn’t think of it,” she lied. She covered her guilt by a quick look around. “You have a beautiful place. How long have you lived here?”
“Just over a year. I’ve still got a lot to do.” He motioned toward the three-car, detached garage where a row of window shutters leaned against the side in various stages of being painted forest-green. “But it’s coming. Would you like to see the inside?”
The eagerness in his voice made Kyndal swallow the refusal on her tongue and nod an okay instead. She’d have a home of her own someday to show off, so it was easy to understand his pride.
He led the way up the side steps into a spacious country kitchen with glossy hardwood floors, white marble countertops and black cabinetry.
“This is gorgeous.” Kyndal nodded her approval at the stainless appliances and hardware brushed to look like pewter. “You’re quite a decorator.”
“Thanks, but I can’t take much credit. When I first began looking at the place, I started buying designing magazines and clipping pictures. Luckily, I found a contractor with some vision.”
The smell of fresh coffee against a backdrop of cinnamon made Kyndal’s stomach growl fiercely.
His eyebrows drew in with concern. “Are you hungry?”
She didn’t think her stomach would agree to food yet although the smell was tempting. She shook her head.
“How about some coffee?”
“Mmm. It smells wonderful, but I’d better not unless you’ve had a bathroom installed in that cave.” She laughed, letting go of some nervousness but reminding herself not to tilt her head sideways because that might be construed as flirting.
The tour went quickly since most of the walls had been knocked down, forming an enormous great room with strategically placed columns where support was needed. The room was warm with leather furniture the color of molasses and a fireplace crackling at one end. Chance silenced it with a remote. “Gas,” he explained to her surprised expression. “It felt good early this morning before I went outside, but we sure don’t need it now.”
Upstairs was still under construction with plastic sheeting hung across doorways. Two of the bedrooms were being combined into a large master suite. One was full of boxes from his move, and the last held only a bed, dresser and bedside table.
Kyndal took a peek and then hurriedly turned away as her heartbeat rose to a pounding in her ears. Chance’s old mahogany bedroom suite. She was so not going to let herself think about times spent in that bed.
A couple of inconspicuous deep breaths brought her heartbeat under control as she moved to the railing. She gripped it and focused on the fireplace below. “Everything is really lovely.” Her voice came out high and strained like an old beagle’s howl.
“Sorry about the dust.” Chance mercifully closed the door to her nostalgia. “It’s more house than I need right now.” He leaned his elbows on the banister, his arm and leg brushing hers. “But I hope to fill it up with a family someday.”
She glanced at him and found his espresso gaze locked on her. “Oh?” She scooted over a couple of inches and coughed, hoping the knot in her chest would shake loose. “Is Chesney pregnant?”
Chance rubbed his hand down his face. “Lord, I hope not. She’s just a baby herself.” He gave a low, meaningful chuckle. “Besides, someday means years from now—when my practice is built and I’m well on my way to