Maggie frowned and blinked her confusion, as the low guttural groan dragged her from the edge of sleep. For just an instant, she thought she'd imagined the sound, but a turn of her head immediately proved the notion to be false. A man stood at her side. A strange man! Remembering her half-naked state, she gasped and lunged to her feet, putting the lounge chair between them. Her shirt, grabbed on the way up, was crushed in her hands and covered little more than her nipples as she pressed it tightly to her bare breasts.

The man grinned. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone move that fast before."

Maggie frowned and shook aside a moment's dizziness. "What are you, an Indian? How come I didn't hear you?"

He laughed. "Actually, I am. Just a small part, I'm told. You want to know which part?" He shrugged when she did not respond to his teasing. "You know what they say, if you hear an Indian..."

Maggie glared her annoyance.

"And you didn't hear me because I walked on the grass."

"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" she asked tightly, knowing a slight sense of alarm at being caught sunbathing, alone, behind a deserted mansion. There wasn't a soul around, should she find the need to cry out, and she didn't expect anyone for hours.

"Name's Jeremiah. Russo sent me over. My crew is starting here tomorrow."

Feeling slightly more at ease at his explanation, she sighed a derisive, "Great, and you came a day early just to make sure you wouldn't be late?"

Jerry grinned at her sarcasm. "I came to look the place over, to see what I'm going to need in the way of supplies."

"Far be it for me to tell you how to do your job, but if you needed to look the place over, why were you standing here, looking me over instead?"

Even as she spoke, he continued looking her over with some obvious appreciation, from her black hair that curled past her shoulders to her plumped up breasts, to the bottom of her string bikini, to her long, tanned legs and finally, to her polished pink toenails. "I saw you when I came around the corner of the house. I didn't know you were topless until I reached you, what with you facin' the ocean and all. I wish I could say I'm sorry, but..."

"But you're not," she said finishing the sentence for him, her tone clearly unhappy. Her hair moved gently with the soft breeze coming off the water, just beyond a distant line of trees.

He couldn't hold back a low, wicked chuckle. "I came around back 'cause no one answered when I rang the bell. Thought the place was empty, maybe the back door was open." He gave a slight shake of his head and bit his bottom lip just before saying, "Damn, but you're somethin'."

Maggie decided not to ask exactly what he meant by that statement. She watched him for a long moment and thought he maybe had five years on her. He was tall, but so was she, and she thought only four or five inches separated them in height. His body... She shook her head. She was better off not thinking about his body and immediately knew the folly of that notion. She might not want to think about it, but there was no denying the man was gorgeous. No other word fit so perfectly. He wore cut-off jeans that hugged his sex just a bit too tightly, the hems torn and straggled came to his knees. His clean T-shirt, was punctuated here and there with holes, the neck and sleeves torn away. He looked ragged, rugged and dishevelled.

Her mouth watered.