Allie desperately wanted to believe that Ricky meant what he said, because he was right—for the moment she had nowhere else to turn. She vowed, though, to cause as little disruption to his life as possible.

      She had to admit to being curious about how a man like Enrique Wilder lived. He was all male, and she imagined that, despite his disclaimers earlier, he had his share of women. Would they have left their imprint on his home? Would his sisters have descended on the place to see that their baby brother had all the material comforts a man required?

      She fought a smile as she realized that unless he had made a rushed phone call from the hospital, there had been no time for him to invite in a swarm of people to tidy up and ready the house for her arrival. His invitation had been too impulsive. She would be seeing exactly how Ricky lived, for better or for worse. The thought of tossed-aside shirts and damp towels on the bathroom floor, an atmosphere more male than any she had ever experienced, gave her an inexplicable little quiver of anticipation.

      As Ricky turned onto a street in an older section of Coral Gables, Allie eagerly studied the neighborhood for clues about his personality. Small, modest homes sat cheek by jowl with brand-new mansions. She knew the area had strict rules for everything from setbacks to the color of paint that could be used, which somehow made the mix of old and new work.

      She was relieved when Ricky pulled into the driveway of a stucco house with a tile roof and a lush front lawn, covered with a thick, green carpet of grass. Towering palms and dense shrubbery lined the walkway from the garage to the house. Bright-purple bougainvillea climbed up the sunlit walls of the garage. Other than a few stray branches and a littering of leaves, it didn’t even look as if it had been touched by the hurricane. The landscaping seemed to have been in place for years, unlike her pitiful attempts to turn her yard into something more verdant than the small plots of green sod and one pin oak sapling the developer had considered sufficient for each property.

      “It’s lovely,” she told Ricky, captivated by the effect.

      When he would have led her inside, she stalled, peppering him with questions about the names of the various plants. To his credit, he not only knew, but responded with patience and increasing amusement.

      “Allie, don’t you think we could do this another time, perhaps when you’re not in pain?” he finally asked. “I’ll write it all down for you.”

      For a few minutes in her excitement she had actually forgotten about the pain and about the awkwardness of the circumstances. Now it all came flooding back.

      “Sorry,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “It’s just that I love to garden and everything down here is so new to me. I’m still trying to figure out what works in this climate. Did you do this yourself?”

      She had to make herself look at his mouth, so she could understand his response. Gazing at those sensual lips was not exactly a hardship, but she was beginning to realize that it was dangerous. The more she focused on his mouth, the more she wondered what it would feel like against her own.

      Suddenly she realized she’d done it again, gotten lost in her own wicked thoughts, and had paid no attention to the words he was uttering.

      “What?” she asked, an embarrassed flush climbing into her cheeks. “Could you say that again?”

      “Am I talking too fast?”

      “No, I just got distracted for a moment.”

      His eyes twinkled with knowing laughter. “Really? By what?”

      She frowned at the teasing. “Never mind.” She looked away.

      He tucked a finger under her chin and turned her to face him. “I said that I did some of it. Fortunately, if you pick the right plants, the tropical climate takes care of the rest. Except for mowing the grass, I don’t spend a lot of time worrying about upkeep.”

      “I imagine you don’t have a lot of free time.”

      “No, and sometimes I can be gone for a couple of weeks at a stretch with virtually no notice.”

      “When there’s an earthquake,” she guessed.

      “Or a flood. Any kind of natural disaster, really.”

      “I don’t know how you do that. All that devastation and human suffering. It must be such sad work.”

      “Sometimes it is,” he agreed. “But there are moments when we find a survivor against all the odds. That’s what we have to focus on, the unexpected miracles.”

      He put his hand in the middle of her back and guided her up the walk. He unlocked the front door and opened it, then steadied her when a German shepherd bounded toward her. At a command from Ricky, the dog promptly sat, tail wagging as he stared up at her. Allie regarded the big dog warily.

      Ricky caught her attention. “Allie, this is Shadow. He helped us to find you after the storm. Shadow, this is Allie. You remember her. Can you shake her hand?”

      The dog raised his paw. Allie took it, then hunkered down to scratch the dog’s ears. “Thank you, Shadow. I owe you.”

      “Offer him a doggie treat every now and then, and he’ll be your pal forever,” Ricky said. “I’ll show you where I keep them. Just remember not to overdo it. He doesn’t need one every time he looks pitiful and begs. It works on my nieces and nephews, so he tries pretty regularly.”

      Allie chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

      “Ready