"Hey!" Carolyn grabbed the workman by the arm and spun him around. "We're trying to rehearse in the ballroom and we can't hear... oh, it's you."

Brad put down the hammer he held in his hand and looked down at her.

"I should have known. You," she poked him in the chest, "have no manners."

He held his ground against her poking finger so she stepped back to glare at him. "I'm sorry about the other night, but I figured you were capable of walking back to the hotel."

"You didn't figure anything. You heard the siren and ran off like Pavlov's dogs responding to a bell." She crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to give off an angry persona she wasn't really feeling. After four days of wondering where he was, she was pleased to see him. Not that she would admit it.

"Okay, you're right. I did." He grinned at her. "But if my house were on fire, I'd want someone to run."

"I guess." She took the opportunity to mitigate her attitude a little. "What are you doing here anyway? Stalking me?"

"I'm working. Remember, I'm a carpenter." He gestured to the wooden pieces on his makeshift workbench. "I'm re-doing these corner pieces that I bet you never even noticed." He picked one up to show it to her. "They're original to the building which makes them about seventy years old."

"I noticed them. How do you re-make those? It looks difficult." She studied the intricate carving of the wood. "Nothing I can't handle." Picking up one of the smaller pieces, he ran his finger over the curve. "The tough part is getting the wood to narrow like this, but still have the strength to hold up the ornamental piece on the end." He took her hand in his and guided it over the wooden piece. "You see how thin the wood is here."

Carolyn gulped in air as her head spun. Wood, who cares about wood? All she could see was how his hand fit around hers. His long, work-roughened fingers curled over her hand.

"Do you work mostly on hotels?" She extracted her fingers from his and took a step back.

"Or houses, boats -- anything made of wood." He leaned against the workbench now.

"Most of Cape May is made of wood from what I've seen."

He nodded. "Good business for me. It's not steel, brick, and glass like Manhattan. I suppose that's what you're used to."

"I haven't spent much time there since the war. I've been touring with the band."

"Sounds fun."

"It is most of the time. We've played in some interesting venues. I've been all over the country as a matter of fact." She glanced toward the ballroom door. "Tonight we're playing on a boat. Some bigwig chartered a sunset cruise and wants music so a few of the band members and I are going."

"Nice." A smug expression crossed his face. What was that about?

"Yeah, but someone keeps interrupting our rehearsal." She put her hands on her hips.

"I'm just about done here. I have to do the rest in my workshop anyway." He put the corner piece back on the workbench, then stepped closer to her. "I promise to be quiet if I can see you later."

"I don't know what time we'll get back." The scent of sawdust and masculinity scrambled her brain. She should have refused.

"That's better than a no. How about we leave it with I'll find you."