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stomach quietly tying itself in knots, Desiree turned the knob, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
    She could have died. She wished she wasn’t so disorderly. She preferred tabletops and counters to be clear and things to be organized and put in their places. She just couldn’t seem to get herself to do it on a regular basis.
    Various items of discarded clothing lay draped across the back of the flowered chintz sofa. A wing chair in a French blue-and-apricot print held a basket of clean laundry waiting to be folded. To her mortification a pair of panties and a lacy bra peeked out noticeably from the center of the pile.
    Numerous pairs of shoes and sandals lay under the antique mahogany coffee table and at either side of the couch and chair. Magazines and books lay scattered on every surface, and partially filled water glasses on cork coasters seemed to be everywhere—on the ornate carved credenza, on the end table, even on the mantel over the brick fireplace.
    When would she grow out of that habit of taking a glass of water with her everywhere she went? And when would she learn to stop taking her shoes off and leaving them wherever she happened to be sitting? What was this man going to think of her?
    Kyle took a step inside and paused, his lips set in a noncommittal line. But the expression in his eyes as they swept the cluttered room could only be called mild dismay. When she saw his gaze drift to the kitchen, where she’d stacked last night’s dinner dishes and pots on the counter, the color rose in her cheeks.
    “ I’ll bet you’re a neat freak. One of those folds-his-underwear-in-the-drawer types.”
    He nodded silently.
    “ I was afraid of that.” She wanted to disappear into thin air, to start the day over again. Why had she ever agreed to this dinner date? It was madness! She scooped an armful of clothes off the sofa and crumpled it into a tight ball against her thudding chest.
    Any kind of relationship, even a short-term one, wasn’t supposed to begin this way. A man, on seeing a woman’s home for the first time, was supposed to be overwhelmed by its charm, impressed by her impeccable taste in furniture and decor. Well, she’d certainly impressed him...he was speechless!
    “ I told you it’d be a disaster,” she said. “I’m sorry. All I can say in my own defense is…it’s not always this bad.”
    His smiled returned and he glanced at her with contrition. “Please, don’t apologize or feel embarrassed. It’s my fault. This has all been very impromptu. You weren’t expecting visitors, and I shouldn’t have been so pushy. But…truth be told, this makes me feel right at home.”
    “ Really?”
    “ I have five sisters. To this day, every one of them is a bit... relaxed about keeping house, you might say.”
    “ Five sisters? How on earth—” did you ever turn out so incredibly, indisputably masculine, she wanted to say. Instead, she finished quickly: “How did you ever survive?”
    “ Being the only son, I got royal treatment. My own room. Special outings with my dad. It was great.”
    She was grateful for his easygoing manner and apparently intentional effort to change the subject. “I just have one brother. Growing up in a big family must have been a lot of fun.”
    “ It was fun.” He sat down on the edge of the couch and absently arranged the scattered magazines and books into neat stacks. “I enjoyed playing Big Brother to a house full of beautiful women. My sisters are terrific. All of them, especially the twins.”
    “ Twins! How wonderful. I used to dream I’d have twins of my own some day.” Unintentionally, her eyes swept to his chest. Firm pectoral muscles rippled in sharp relief beneath his white summer dress shirt. Despite herself, she found herself imagining what that chest might look like without a shirt to cover it.
    “ Maybe you will.” His voice brought her eyes up to meet his with a guilty start. Maybe she would what?
    She stepped over to the credenza and