Gray could feel Joy’s eyes shooting into his back. She was right royally pissed and he was a little surprised. He never expected she’d put up a fight about anything. Not Joy. Not sweet, strawberry-blond Joy.

      Damn, but her unexpected strength was attractive. It wasn’t going to change his mind, but he admired anyone who tried to stand up to him.

      And he didn’t care if he had to throw her over his other shoulder, she was not going home alone in the dark on that bike. The godforsaken thing didn’t even have a headlight and the fact that there wasn’t a lot of traffic in the area off season didn’t matter to him. Cars weren’t the only hazard on the lake road. Black bears came down to the shore looking for food in the fall. Mountain lions, too.

      So no, he wasn’t about to let her be meals-on-wheels for some rabid, claw-wielding animal.

      He opened the door to the boathouse and flipped on the light. The Hacker gleamed in its slip, all that glossy mahogany and shiny chrome reflecting the illumination like a prism. He put the bike in one of the seating compartments and then stepped on the gunnels, offering Joy a hand. When she refused to take it, he let her get settled on her own.

      Getting in beside her, he started the engine. A great thunder filled the boathouse before the RPMs settled down to a rhythmic, almost sexual pump.

      God, he really was hard up for her, wasn’t he? He’d driven the Hacker for years and never found anything erotic in it.

      As soon as they were free of the boathouse, he pulled a blanket from under the dash and gave it to her. She looked at the thing as if it were a net and she was a fish.

      “It’s cold,” he said dryly.

      She took the heavy wool from him and spread the tartan plaid over her body. “What about you?”

      He shrugged, enjoying the chill because it kept him sharp. He’d only had those two bourbons all night long, but it wasn’t the alcohol that was likely to get him doing something stupid. “I’ll live.”

      A moment later she shifted in the seat. “You could speed us up and get this over with, you know. We’re barely going faster than an idle.”

      “Less wind this way.” Which was a crock. He liked having her in his boat.

      She cursed softly. And then slid over next to him, awkwardly pulling the blanket over his lap. Her hand brushed against his stomach.

      Gray closed his eyes, body humming like he had jet fuel in his veins.

      When they’d been collecting glasses in the library, and she’d stopped short, he hadn’t been prepared for the abrupt halt. One minute they were making good progress around the room. And the next, his erection was pressed up against her.

      Remembering the feel of her made a groan rise in his throat and he was grateful for the sound of the engine.

      He’d been watching her as she’d moved, the swaying of her hips, the shifting of her shoulders. Her legs were long and slender, and every time she bent this way or that, the skirt had ridden up a little higher on her thighs.

      At the moment they’d come into contact, he’d been picturing himself putting the tray aside, sitting her down on one of the leather couches and parting her legs with his hands. He’d wanted to fall to his knees and kiss his way up the inside of her thighs. Feel her hands burrowing deep into his hair as she urged him closer to her heat. The image had been hot, wild, totally insane.

      Yeah, and then he’d bumped into her.

      She must have felt what she did to him. How could she have missed it?

      And if it hadn’t been clear then, it must have been obvious when she’d wheeled around. He’d known his lust was showing on his face, but everything had happened so fast, the meeting of their bodies followed by her quick spin, that he hadn’t been able to strong-arm his expression into any semblance of neutrality.

      No wonder she didn’t want to be alone with him.

      Maybe that was why he was so hell-bent on taking her home. He wanted to prove to them both that he could take care of her. Because back in that library, he sure hadn’t been thinking like Gallahad and she’d caught him red-handed.

      Or red-blooded, as the case had been.

      Gray felt something tickle his face. A strand of her hair had escaped the loose knot at her neck and was dancing in the wind. He reached for the silken length, but she caught it first and tucked it behind her ear.

      “Sorry,” she said.

      He wasn’t. He wanted her hair down and all over his body.

      Gray reached up and massaged the bridge of his nose.

      “Are you okay?” she said gruffly, as if she didn’t like being concerned for him. “You look like you’re really cold or something.”

      No, he wasn’t cold. He could have jumped buck-naked into an ice bath and had the damn thing boiling in a matter of minutes.

      “Gray?”

      “I’m fine.” Yup, for a guy being tortured by his libido, he was just Jim-dandy.

      He took his hand off the steering wheel and gave the throttle a push to speed them up. She might have a point about getting the ride over with.

      “Your father seemed to enjoy himself tonight.”

      “He did.”

      There was a pause. “He looks better than when you and he ate at White Caps last month.”

      “He’s coming along. It’s been hard for him.”

      “And you, too, I imagine. I, ah, I saw how carefully you watched him tonight.”

      The words were soft. He looked at her.

      Joy was staring out at the lake.

      “How’s your brother doing?” he asked, thinking she must know all about how tough it was to see someone suffer through rehab and recovery.

      “He had another operation two weeks ago. They replaced his tibia with a titanium rod and he still might need to go back under the knife again. They’re not sure. He’s also been struggling with a post-op infection.” She pulled up the edge of the blanket and began braiding the fringe. “He’s been so brave. He never complains even though it’s obvious he’s in a great deal of pain. I think the hardest thing for us is the fact that he’s a terrible patient. He won’t take his meds a lot of the time. He drinks too much. And he never talks about what happened.”

      Gray wanted to reach out for her hand.

      “I’m really sorry,” he said instead.

      Her eyes came to his face. “Thank you.”

      “You take care of your grandmother, don’t you?”

      “Yes.”

      “That’s a lot of responsibility.”

      Joy shrugged. “No one would tend to her as well as I’m able to. And she really can’t be alone. The dementia has taken away most of her internal logic and reasoning and replaced them with paranoia. We’re trying her on a new medication right now and I hope it calms her. I hate to see her distressed.”

      “You’re a very good person, Joy,” he said abruptly.

      She shrugged. “Alex and Grand-Em are my family. Of course I’d take care of them.”

      “There’s no ‘of course’