I did.

Then you said something in Spanish. What was it?

I merely explained that you'd stolen my heart.

Ginger's eyes went wider still. You kissed me.

I had hoped to revive you, Lucio said, smiling. I am happy to see it worked.

Ever heard of a cold cloth on the forehead? Roxanne asked.

Lucio laughed. This has been a rare pleasure, ladies. Please let me know if you should need further assistance.

He headed toward the door, looking back long enough to see the loathing in Bea's sneer and the distrust in Roxanne's narrowed eyes. Ginger, however, was once again touching a pair of lips that had drifted into a dreamy smile.

With a nod, Lucio headed down the steps and outside, a smile of his own spreading across his face. Without a doubt, loosening the dress of the hazel-eyed, auburn-haired Ginger Garrison had been the most pleasant surprise of the last three months, and Lucio decided he'd allow himself a moment to savor it. After all, he deserved a brush with beauty in the midst of all the ugliness that had recently become his life.

Are you okay? Roxanne rushed to the side of the bed and knelt on the rug, reaching for Ginger's hand. Did he hurt you?

Ginger blinked at her friend, feeling thoroughly stunned. Maybe the blackout had restricted the flow of oxygen to her brain! How embarrassing would that be, finding out from her doctor that cramming her size six body into a size four bridesmaid's dress had led to permanent brain damage?

Ginger? Can you hear me?

Huh? Ginger stared at Roxie until her friend's face came into focus. Oh. Yeah. I'm fine.

With a loud sigh, Bea shut the guest-room door and began her commentary. It simply fascinates me how men walk around this planet thinking they can just help themselves to women, like the female race is nothing but one giant sexual smorgasbord set out for their enjoyment.