With both fists, I pummel my knight in gravel-encrusted summer-wear. The blows don’t even begin to faze him. “Put me down, you great big jerk.”

What does the great big jerk do? Put me down and help me inside? No. Not Max Matthews. He stuns the breath out of me. Again.

He laughs. And then he kisses me.

Long and hard.

On the lips.

Oh my...

Over the electric buzzing in my head, I hear the sweet, tender strains of “Stranger in Paradise.” Again. As I’ve heard them a time or two since Max barreled into my life about a year ago.

“Dum-de-dummm... dum-de-dum-de-dum-dum-dedummm
. . . ”

How can this be? These warm lips belong to Max Mat- thews, the California surfer-boy gem-dunce... and he’s kissingme! He showed up, ruined my TV shopping channel–hosting gig, and I couldn’t stand him... but then he didsave my life...

He eases me to the ground again. But only my feet touch down.

Max... I learned to tolerate him... he saved my life one more time, and now this... a kiss... an incredible, dizzying, Hollywood musical–worthy kiss...

Cue in the violins.

Oh yeah! This does tilt my world, all right. Swirls of light and color dance across my eyelids, and my heart seems to grow to the bursting point. I float through reality, clinging only to the warmth of Max’s touch, the tenderness and sweet passion of his kiss. Max...

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