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begins to look good.”
    “You’re from New York?” She moved up to the gallery door, taking out a set of keys.
    There was no wasted effort. Every movement was graceful. He stepped close enough to inhale her fragrance. Exotic. Citrus. All woman. Stefan had been in the company of beautiful women more times than he could count over the years, but she was the first one to capture his interest—not the interest of the undercover agent, but of the man. It was a complication unwelcome but not entirely a shock. He knew from his reaction to her photograph that this assignment was going to give him trouble. He just hadn’t realized until this moment how much.
    “Yes. I was a silent partner in a gallery there, but decided I had enough of taxis and parties. I read about this town some years ago and filed it away. The town sounded so charming and unique, an artist’s paradise.”
    “An article?” she prompted with a small smile over her shoulder as she pushed the door to the gallery open and stepped aside to gesture him inside.
    Gallantly, and because he was always uncomfortable with anyone directly behind him, Stefan stepped back to hold the door for her. “Yes, on a supermodel who grew up here. The writer had obviously fallen a little bit in love with the town as well. There were beautiful pictures of the countryside, and the ocean with the sun shining on the surface.”
    She flicked on the lights as she turned to face him. Her skin looked inviting, soft and so warm he curled his fingers into a fist and held it tight against his thigh to keep from being tempted into touching her inappropriately. The woman needed to be outlawed.
    “That would be Hannah Drake. Her family has been here for over a hundred years. I’m not certain, after New York, our sleepy little town would have all that much to offer you. There’s not really a night life here, Mr. Vincent. Everything closes up rather early.”
    He kept his wolfish smile to himself. Sweet little Judith had her suspicions. Now why would an innocent woman be in the least skeptical about a buyer wanting to live in her quaint, charming town? She looked the epitome of cooperation, every graceful movement soothing. Her steps were unhurried as she moved through the spacious, beautiful gallery toward what clearly was an office. One would never think they were in a chess match with such a beautiful, soothing woman gracing the gallery.
    He indicated the deserted street. “Doesn’t look like a night life, but I noticed a crowd moving around in the store two doors down.”
    “Every third Friday evening of the month we hold an artist’s walk. The various shops participate. We have wine tastings and it’s a good draw for a crowd. Usually I open the gallery for the event, but I actually hosted the event in my own shop this evening, which is why I was a little late. Fortunately my sister locked up for me. Ordinarily it’s very quiet here at night.”
    “Just what I’m looking for,” he assured her, just as charming right back. He could match her play for play. He was the pro. As smooth as she was, she was still an amateur. He found himself looking forward to the exchange.
    She sent him another look from over her shoulder, her silky black hair cascading like a waterfall, adding to the already painful ache in his groin. She looked like an exotic flower, exquisite and rare. And damn it all, it wasn’t safe for a woman like her to be showing strange men around an empty gallery at night. She was temptation personified. As much as he didn’t want to explore the possibility of her being an agent for another country, the thought still crossed his mind. She was just too seductive without even trying. Her walk. Her dark eyes looking at him over her shoulder through all that smooth, silky hair. She was made for fantasy. For long nights.
    Her manner didn’t appear affected—in fact, just the opposite. She seemed naturally sensual—something all good agents were trained to be. He’d been