“I’ll get it.” Gabe McBride flopped down on his belly next to her. He scrabbled forward, reaching for the bunny who, seeing he was outnumbered, feinted left, looked right and skittered right between the two of them and ran into the dining room.

Freddie bit off a very unladylike exclamation, leapt to her feet and, still clutching the mac around her, ran after it with Gabe McBride in close pursuit.

“You go that way,” he directed. “I’ll go this.” He jerked his head, directing her. “We’ll head him off at the pass.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He grinned. It was lethal.

It was a good job, Freddie thought, that she was on her knees already, else she’d be lying out flat on the flagstones that very minute. And letting the man have his way with you.

“Never!” she exclaimed aloud.

“What?” said Gabe McBride.

Freddie shook her head. “N-nothing. I was just saying we’re never going to catch him.”

“Sure we will. Just do what I told you.” He edged around the other way. “Be real still. I’ll flush him out toward you. Ready?”

Still reeling from her aberrant, wholly inappropriate thoughts, Freddie crouched, feeling like a goalkeeper at the ready, nightgown and mac draped around her.

Gabe McBride got on his belly again and stretched beneath the china cabinet. The rabbit watched worriedly. Gabe’s fingers got closer and closer.

“Yes,” she breathed. “You’re going to…”

Then all of a sudden, Gabe smacked his hands together in a loud clap. The rabbit shot out directly toward Freddie.

“Gotcha!” And she fell over on her rear end, clutching the rabbit gently in both hands. Her heart slammed against the wall of her chest.

From the exhilaration of the chase, she assured herself, not from the handsome American grinning down at her!