So she would just keep her worlds separate. That shouldn’t be too hard for the short period of time Nathan’s interest would last.

Chloe picked up one of the flutes and flicked her fingernail against it, making the fine crystal emit a pure, high note. “Well, we can use the third flute when we break the second one.”

She put the flute back in the box and stowed the whole case away in the kitchen. Then she retrieved the lupines from their precarious perch and pushed aside a pile of magazines on the coffee table to set them there. The magazines cascaded onto the floor.

Kneeling to pick them up, Chloe noticed that one wouldn’t stack neatly because a folder of some sort was wedged inside it. She pulled it out and sat back on her heels when she saw the embossed white writing: Crestmont Village, the assisted-living facility.

“How on earth did that get in here?” She flipped it open and dropped the magazines back on the floor. A letter dated only ten days ago was tucked into the folder.

   Dear Mrs. Russell,

   Thank you for your inquiry about our elder-care facility. We have enclosed the information you requested about availability of . . .

Chloe stopped reading. Why would Grandmillie request information from Crestmont Village? Other than their discussion about Chloe going on the date last night, everything had been fine. In fact, Grandmillie had been indignant about having Cavill’s emergency contact numbers foisted on her when Chloe spent the night away.

Chloe riffled through the sheets of paper in the folder. There was a multipage application form with its blanks still empty. She breathed a sigh of relief. If her grandmother were serious, she would have filled the form out and sent it in; Grandmillie didn’t mess around once her mind was made up to do something.

Chloe gathered up the magazines again, leaving the folder on top of them this time. She intended to find out what her grandmother was plotting.

In the meantime, she had a phone call to make.

Nathan did a kick turn and knifed through the water again. He was doing three more laps if it killed him.

Of course, Ben claimed it would.

But he needed to work off the sexual haze that had enveloped him ever since the first time he touched Chloe. He’d been blaming his lack of focus on the flu, but it was caused by something more difficult to cure.

He couldn’t even swim without imagining how he would make love to her in the lap pool. He pictured her breasts glistening with drops of water that he would lick off her peaked nipples. She would wrap her fingers around his cock and stroke him hard under the surface. He would lay her back to float on the water before he spread her thighs and held her open while he buried himself inside her.

He nearly swallowed a mouthful of water as a groan of arousal tore itself from his throat. His erection was not helping his aquadynamics either.

Hitting the opposite wall of the pool, he kick-turned again and forced himself to concentrate on the Prometheus project, figuring that would be the most effective buzzkill. However, it just reminded him of Chloe’s advice to pitch in on the project himself.

How the hell had she gotten so embedded in every aspect of his life so fast?

The question didn’t unsettle him as much as he expected it to. If Chloe was taking up all his attention, it wasn’t because she demanded it. He discovered that giving his attention freely was surprisingly pleasurable.

Sending the gifts to her this morning had been pure fun as he’d tried to decide what her reaction would be when she saw Oskar at the door holding the lupines. When she opened the box of Dom, would she frown in disapproval at the cost or enjoy the treat?

The line about meeting her grandmother had come from his pen without thought, yet he had meant it. He was curious about the woman Chloe was so devoted to.

He finished the final lap and hoisted himself out of the pool with shaking arms, collapsing onto his back on the tile floor and heaving in great gulps of oxygen. Thank God Ben wasn’t here to see him gasping like a dying fish.

As his breathing settled into a more normal rhythm, he went back to solving his newest problem. He grudgingly admired Chloe’s refusal to take payment for her trip to the wedding with him, but he knew she needed the money. He just couldn’t figure out a way to offer it that she would accept.

He’d gotten around Ben’s reluctance to accept Nathan’s donations for his free medical clinic by setting up a foundation using a front man. Ben had no idea the money flowed from Nathan. However, that wouldn’t work for Chloe, since she didn’t have 501(c)(3) status. He grimaced. Chloe would be horrified to know he’d considered her in the same thought as a charity.

His cell phone rang and he vaulted to his feet to swipe it off the marble-topped table by the pool. Dropping into a nearby chair, he checked the caller ID. The laps had just been a way to kill time until this call came through.

He answered with the word he’d been waiting to say all morning. “Chloe.”

“Nathan.” Her tone held a smile and a touch of mockery. “You knew I’d call.”

“Your manners are always impeccable.”

She laughed. “Well, that’s not true, but when someone sends me a wonderful gift, I like to say thank you.”

“The gift was our time together last night. What I sent this morning was my thank-you.”

“Very smooth.” Her voice softened. “The lupines are lovely, and you know I’ll enjoy the champagne in those elegant flutes. Every time I use them, I’ll remember where they came from.”