“I . . . I . . .”

I don’t know what came over me.

Maybe it was how good he looked, dressed as always in a half-buttoned linen shirt, blown open by the strong ocean breeze, and a pair of cargo shorts, slung obscenely low on his slim hips.

Maybe it was my certainty that I was going to find him dead, and he was so very much alive.

Maybe it was that smile . . . that smile that revealed all his white, even teeth, and caused my heart to somersault inside my chest.

Whatever the reason, instead of replying, I found myself flinging my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his, and kissing him full on the mouth.

“Whoa,” he said in surprise, his lips moving against mine. “What—”

But it seemed to be a pleasant surprise, since his hands went quickly to my waist, then tugged me closer, crushing my breasts against his hard bare chest. I could feel the metal rivets of the fly of his shorts against my belly, since my T-shirt had hiked up.

Then his lips stopped moving to form words, but instead started moving to kiss me back. He tasted pleasantly of mint toothpaste, but when his tongue joined his lips in their gentle exploration, I tasted something else more flavor forward, and realized it was coffee.

Who knows how long we would have stood there kissing like that, with my arms around his neck and his around my waist, and a hot white heat rising from deep inside me, if something cold and wet hadn’t pressed up against my thigh. I pulled away with a gasp.

“Goddammit, Bob,” Drew snarled down at the large black Labrador retriever that was panting up at me, his pink tongue lolling. “Leave her alone.”

The dog wagged his black fringed tail happily, looking entirely unapologetic. Behind him was another, smaller dog, a scruffy terrier mix also wagging its tail and smiling up at me. A third dog, some sort of beagle mix, stood behind Drew, while a fourth came trotting around the corner of the wraparound deck, one black ear tipped forward alertly, while the other drooped in a manner I found oddly familiar . . .

“Socks?” I could hardly believe what I was seeing. The bedraggled border collie mix had been transformed. His once dingy black-and-gray coat gleamed a lustrous black and white. He trotted with confidence with every step, his tail wagging joyously as he bounded over to greet me, and while one of his ears still drooped, the one that always perked up alertly seemed more alert than ever.

“It’s Bob now,” Drew said, leaning down to give the dog an affectionate scratch beneath the droopy ear. “Remember? I told you I changed it. New life, new name.”

I pointed at the black Lab, who had jealously inserted his head beneath Drew’s hand, eager for his own caresses. “But you called that one Bob.”

Drew automatically transferred his hand to the Lab’s head. “He’s Bob, too. They’re all named Bob.”

I had begun scratching the head of the beagle mix, who’d placed its paws on my thigh, looking up at me with those big brown liquid eyes all beagles have.

“You can’t name all your dogs Bob,” I said, with a disbelieving laugh.

“Yes, I can.” He looked perfectly serious. “And you never answered my question. What are you doing here?”

I stared at him like he was crazy. “I came to make sure you’re okay. Do you even know what’s going on out there? The bridge to the mainland is washed out and no one can get on or off the island. Your aunt and uncle are worried sick about you.”

There was a knowing glint in his electric blue eyes. “Really? My aunt and uncle were the only ones worried about me?”

I pretended not to understand what he meant, tugging my backpack away from the scruffy terrier mix, who was taking a pointed interest in it, most likely due to the egg, ham, and cheese sandwich inside. “Well, your niece, too.”

“Ah,” he said. “You rode all the way out here because my family is worried about me? It has nothing to do with your personal feelings toward me? Which I have to say you’re making pretty obvious by all these kisses you keep laying on me.”

I could feel myself blushing, but fortunately, it was windy enough that I knew my cheeks were hidden by my hair, which was blowing around all over the place.

“I . . . I . . . was just relieved that I wasn’t going to have to go back to your aunt’s house and tell her that you’re dead. That kiss, that . . . that’s just the way we greet people in New York when we’re relieved they haven’t been killed in a natural disaster.”

“Oh, I see.” He was grinning from ear to ear, looking so self-satisfied I began to wonder myself why I’d bothered to go to all the trouble of finding him. I’d forgotten how annoying he could be. “I should have stayed in New York longer, since I think I missed some of the more interesting local traditions there.”

Hoping to change the subject, I opened my backpack and extracted the sandwich Mrs. Hartwell had made for him, still warm in its wrapping. “Here, this is from your aunt Lucy.”

He peeled back the foil, sniffed, then nodded appreciatively. “God bless that woman. I think this calls for a beer. You want one?”

“No, I do not want a beer. Are you insane? It isn’t even noon.”

“There’s a tradition Little Bridge natives follow after natural disasters. It’s called ‘It’s never too early for beer.’ I think you’ll grow to like it as much as I like your native traditions.”

He didn’t wait for my reply. He turned and walked into the house, the dogs trotting excitedly behind him, obviously accustomed to getting a treat (or a dropped piece of sandwich) when he headed toward the kitchen.

I had no choice but to follow. Well, I could have made the long journey back down the stairs and across the beach to my scooter, but I was curious to see what the inside of the great Drew Hartwell’s famous beach house looked like.

And now that he’d mentioned it, a beer did sound kind of good.

I wasn’t disappointed by the interior of his home. It was like him, uncluttered and expansive. Because of the sliding glass doors, almost everywhere you looked you saw either the bright blue of the sky or the deeper, grayish-blue of the sea. Almost all of the sliding doors had been flung open to allow the ocean breeze to flow in.

I understood now why he didn’t have air-conditioning. He didn’t need it. If Leighanne had left because of the lack of AC, she’d been a fool.

The walls were all as white inside as they were outside. The floor plan was open concept, one main large room that was a kitchen, living, and dining room combined, with a hallway leading off to what I assumed was the master. He owned very little furniture, only a leather sectional and a large wood-and-glass dining table that I was guessing he’d made himself. It wasn’t much of a guess, since the tools he’d used to make it were scattered all over the table itself and even the darkly stained wooden floor, against which the dogs’ claws went skittering as they ran to be close by when he opened the huge stainless steel refrigerator for the beers.

And when he said, “Bob, sit,” all four of the dogs sat obediently, even Socks, watching him as he opened two bottles of Corona.

“Wait,” I said. “They’re all really named Bob?”

“Dogs are pack animals,” he said with a shrug as he handed me my beer. “They don’t need individual names. They do everything as a group anyway. I’m their alpha. They do what I tell them.”