I looked at him, the image of Hot Tub Simon that had been in my head for the last few weeks actually paling in comparison to the real thing. Strong arms stretched across the back of the hot tub, hair wet and artfully swept back. If I thought seeing him wet and half-naked on my kitchen floor was enticing, it was nothing like having him backlit by tiki torches and seen through a strong buzz.

He was now the most singularly handsome man I’d ever seen, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he was trying to get me drunk. Brain was getting a bit fuzzy. Heart was beginning to sing Etta James songs.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I asked, giggling as I pushed my empty glass away, resolving myself to no more alcohol.

“Nope. A sloppy Pink Nightie Girl gets me nowhere.”

He grinned as I splashed water toward his side. Our friends had all quieted and were watching us with undisguised interest.

After Simon and I arrived, we got our drinks, and then I showed him around the rest of the house. I left my bags at the front door, not knowing how the sleeping arrangements had been laid out. We returned to the patio to find that Sophia and Neil had joined Ryan and Drunky Mimi in the hot tub. A quick trip to the pool house left me in nothing but a dark green bikini and a smile as I approached the others. Simon had already jumped in, and I watched him watch me. As I slid under the warm water, I sipped my cocktail and drank in the sight of my neighbor, wet and in board shorts, before me. Sophia actually had to nudge me to stop the staring.

Now we were smack dab in the middle of a sexual soup, bubbling away with two pairs of mismatched lovers and more pheromones than we knew what to do with.

So did I want another cocktail? Didn’t matter. I couldn’t afford it.

I had to shake my head a little to clear it as I looked around at the rest of the group. Mimi had gotten too hot and was perched on the side, kicking Neil as she swung her feet back and forth. He indulged her in much the same way a big brother indulges his little sister. Sophia and Ryan were huddled on the other side, Sophia scratching Ryan’s back as she and Neil talked back and forth about the 49ers’ starting lineup or defensive line or something football-ish and, frankly, boring.

“So, what are we doing this weekend?” I asked, focusing my attention on the group at large and not the blue eyes staring at me. Damn those eyes! They would be the death of me.

“We were thinking about going for a hike tomorrow. Who’s in?” Ryan asked.

Sophia shook her head. “Count me out. No way am I hiking.”

“Why not?” Neil asked.

Simon and I exchanged a quick glance at his sudden interest.

“Can’t. Last time I hiked I took quite a spill and sprained my wrist. Can’t take the chance during the season,” she said, waving and reminding us she made her living with her hands. As a cello player, she could get out of quite a bit. Once she dodged hand jobs all winter. Investment banker Bob was not a happy camper.

“How ’bout you, Tiny?” Neil pulled on Mimi’s foot.

“Um, no, Mimi doesn’t hike,” she replied, adjusting her barely there black bikini. Her actual boy toy didn’t notice, but I saw Ryan’s eyes grow to the size of pies from across the hot tub as her br**sts were nearly revealed.

“You gonna take a pass as well?” Simon nodded to me.

“Hell, no. I’m hiking with the boys tomorrow!” I laughed as Sophia and Mimi rolled their eyes. They never understood why I loved “mountain man activities,” as they called them.

“Nice,” Simon purred, and for a second I calculated the distance between my mouth and his. Then we were all quiet, all six of us lost in our thoughts. I remembered the plan to out the four of them, and I jumped right in.

“So, Ryan, did you know Mimi here gives to your charity every year?” I asked, surprising them both.

“You do?”

“Yep, every year,” she said. “I’ve seen what having access to computers can do, especially for kids who wouldn’t otherwise have the opportunity.” She looked shyly at him, and they began a conversation about the process he used to determine which schools will receive the scholarships each year.

Simon and I grinned at each other. Looking sideways at Sophia, Simon launched the second wave of the attack. “Hey, Neil, how many seats did you get for the symphony this year?” he asked.

Neil blushed.

“You bought tickets?” Sophia asked.

“Season tickets,” Simon added, as Neil nodded. Sophia and Neil then launched into a discussion of where his seats were, and Simon raised his foot above the surface of the water.

“Come on, don’t leave me hangin’.”

“What?”

“Gimme a little high five. I can’t reach your hand,” he insisted, waving his foot back and forth. I giggled and slid lower on my seat, stretching my foot out and patting his lightly.

“Ugh, pruney.” He laughed.

“I’ll give you pruney,” I warned, dipping my foot and splashing him lightly.

“I could not be more comfortable. Seriously, I literally could not feel more cozy right now if I were actually inside a marshmallow,” I mumbled through a thick tongue coated in Bailey’s and coffee. I had curled up on top of about fifty pillows next to fireplace—a fireplace with a hearth almost ten feet wide and a chimney almost three stories high. Made out of stone quarried nearby, it was massive. It was the focal point of the entire house, with rooms radiating out from its center. And it gave off massive heat.

We were chilled to the bone when we finally made it back inside. One by one, we all got too warm in the hot tub, so we hoisted ourselves out to cool off a little. By the time we realized how cold the night had gotten, we were shivering and puffing, and wanting nothing more than to curl up next to the fire. As we had yet to pick rooms, I soon learned, the girls snuck into the master bedroom to change into our pjs and rejoin the boys, who were now all decked out in T-shirts and pajama pants. We made a quick pot of coffee, and I sliced up some of the additional cranberry-orange bread I’d wisely hidden from Simon. A couple shots of Bailey’s in the coffee cups, and we were all relaxing by the fire like an ad for Currier and Ives.

Simon had reclined regally by the fireplace and patted the stack of pillows next to him. I dove in and a few stray puffs of feathers swirled around our heads. We’d discovered that each boy had a different method of starting a fire—kindling, newspapers, kindling and newspapers—when finally Sophia stuck her head up there and declared that the flue was still closed. Brought back down a few pegs, the guys at that point deferred to Ryan, if for no other reason than that he was the one holding the matches. But within minutes, they had a fire blazing, and we were now all seated around the fireplace, sleepy and content.