He sauntered over to the wall of windows and tested the action in the miniblinds. He saw drapery hardware still attached to the window frame and decided he'd get real thick, real private drapes as soon as possible. He'd better start a shopping list.

His eye was drawn to the big Palladian window in the master bath, right over the tub. As he walked toward it and took off his boots, he figured whoever built this house must have had a penchant for flashing the neighborhood. When he stepped into the sunken tub to pull down the blinds, he saw them.

Three kids and two women sat at a wrought-iron patio table under an umbrella. They were talking and eating, maybe an after-school snack. He checked his watch-it was four o'clock, so that would be about right.

He got a good look at the older woman-the grandmother probably. One of the kids was a redheaded, chubby girl no more than seven or eight. She looked like a pistol. There were two older boys. The mom had her back to him, but he could see nice reddish hair up in a ponytail. She had slim shoulders and she was laughing with the kids.

Joe found himself easing down onto the edge of the tub, in slow motion, his hand frozen on the miniblind pull. He leaned forward, breathing hard. His skin had started to tingle. His blood had begun to hum. And he was hit with the oddest combination of sensations: dread, regret, lust, utter disbelief. The scent of honeysuckle cut through his nostrils and into his brain.

Just then, the mom stood up from the table, bent over to pick up a tray of cups and plates, and he got a good look at her petite, shapely body. Her little round ass. Her dainty waist.

She turned and headed to the back patio door, calling over her shoulder. He saw that graceful throat. That sweet face. That shiny hair.

He slapped down the blinds, nearly tumbling over the edge of the tub in his hurry to get on the phone to Roger.