the right to be a little cocky. His honey-toned eyes gazed at her from under thick black lashes that were wasted on a man. The nerve! He was flirting with her. She flicked an imaginary crumb off her lap. “I’m sure you’re not quite as perfect as you’d like to think you are.” “Probably not, but you’d have to get to know me better to find out.” He raised a brow. “If it turns out that you’re my husband’s son, then I hope we’ll become very close.” “And if it turns out I’m not, you’ll cast me aside like a used Ziploc bag?” A smile tugged at his sensual mouth. Sam blinked. What if he wasn’t Tarrant’s son? Then it was okay to have slept with him. She could even sleep with him again. A thick sensation swelled inside her and her nipples tingled. She’d never felt anything like last night. Every millimeter of her body had come alive with pleasure. A stray throb of memory stirred inside her. Sam dragged herself back to the present. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Louis made a show of looking around. The sunset shone like spilled champagne over the wide, shimmering swamp. “I don’t see any bridge. Just a boat, with a man and a woman in it.” Sam glanced around. There really was nothing out there. They’d motored far away from the boathouse and there wasn’t a visible structure anywhere. Just sky and bayou, with the sun hovering at the horizon like a cherry floating in a cocktail. “It’s going to get dark any minute.” “Yes.” “Won’t we get lost? Or eaten alive by bugs?” “You’re not worried about alligators?” He cocked his head. Sam shivered. “Thanks for reminding me. Shouldn’t we be getting back?” “We could. Or we could spend the night here.” He inclined his head. A wooden structure appeared among the grasses like a mushroom sprouting. A tiny cottage of some sort, on stilts that raised it over the swamp. “What is it?” “My granddad’s fishing retreat. I renovated it a couple of years ago. It’s a lot more high-tech than it looks. I’m embarrassed to say that there’s even solar-powered air-conditioning.” He shot her a wry smile. She stiffened. “I’m not sleeping here. You need to take me back to the city.” “Why? It’s a beautiful night. You already agreed to spend the evening with me, so I know you don’t have anywhere to go. I’ve proved to you that I can keep my hands off you, and I promise to keep them to myself all night long.” He held up his hands and examined them, as if making sure they were going to behave. “Don’t you trust me?” “I don’t have any...stuff with me. Makeup remover. That kind of thing.” “What happens if you don’t take your makeup off?” He looked genuinely interested. Sam hesitated. “I have no idea. I’ve never tried.” “Then maybe it’s time you did. You said you wanted to step outside your comfort zone, didn’t you? And really, you can trust me.” Sam rubbed her arm. She felt chilly, though the air was still warm. “Or maybe it’s yourself you don’t trust.” He squinted against the sun’s rays, looking unbearably handsome. Somehow the fact that he knew it didn’t diminish his appeal at all. “It’s peaceful here. No TV, no radio, no Internet. No outside world.” The boat had somehow sidled up alongside the building, and he cut the engine. Water lapped against the wooden stilts holding the structure above the shimmering water. The pinkish cedar looked fresh and new, and she could smell its pungent scent, crisp and inviting amid the fecund funk of the bayou. The boat rocked in the water. Could it hurt to go inside for just a minute? “Take a look. See what you think. If you don’t like it, we’ll head back.” “Okay.” She could hardly believe she’d agreed, but suddenly she had to see what Louis DuLac’s special place looked like inside. She could tell it was special. Even from the boat, she could make out images of