His gaze lingered at the torn skirt, wondering at the slender legs hidden within. “That’s true. I don’t know you, and you do look a little… um, unkempt.”

Amy looked down at her skirt. “It was my car. It ate my skirt.”

Jake nodded sympathetically. He glanced at the bags of groceries sitting in her cart. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll make a deal with you. It looks to me like you’ve got the makings of a spaghetti dinner there. As you can see”-he pointed to his cartful of TV dinners-“my culinary skills stop at defrosting. I’ll pay for your food, if you’ll make me a home-cooked meal. Fair?”

Now it was Amy’s turn to take a long hard look at Jacob Elliott, six feet tall with broad shoulders, slim hips, and running shoes held together with surgical tape. A few crisp black hairs curled from the open neck of his shirt. His sleeves had been rolled to the elbow, displaying strong corded forearms, and Amy guessed that the shirt hid muscles in all the right places. He was perfectly yummy. Coffee-colored hair waved over his eyes and along his neck, giving him a slightly rugged look, which was substantiated by a five o’clock shadow. Perfect teeth flashed white against a dashing smile any pirate would have been proud to own.

Amy felt a shiver run along her spine and instinctively checked to make sure her blouse was buttoned. “I don’t think so,” she answered, trying to ignore the fact that her mouth had gone dry as sand.

The checkout clerk shook her head in disbelief. “What a ninny.”

Amy felt her jaw drop. “I beg your pardon?”

The older woman stood with her hand on her hip and grinned. “Wouldn’t catch me turning down a chance to cook his dinner.”

“I don’t know this man. He could be an axe murderer.”

“Honey, this is Dr. Elliott. Everyone knows Dr. Elliott. He owns the veterinary clinic just around the corner.”