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Standard disclaimer.

"Multitasking means...screwing up several things at once."

Mercedes Jones

All Mercedes knew, was that one minute she was blinking sleepily at her and Sam's handiwork on his walls, and in the next, they were laid out on his sole piece of living room furniture...a huge, comfy couch.

He was lying lengthwise, and she appeared to be playing the role of his blanket, sprawled out over the top of him, like she belonged there.

She had no idea how much time had gone by, but it was still dark outside.

She lifted her head and met his green gaze, and it propelled them into the sort of timeless moment that you read about, but never really experience.

And it probably would've been more classically romantic, if he hadn't had a possessive hand palming each of her butt cheeks...his fingers meeting in the middle, running up and down the Great Divide...but she'd never been all that into the classics.

Their faces were so close, that the tips of their noses brushed, and she hoped like hell that he was extremely far-sighted, because, she was pretty sure, she was a complete wreck.

"You're beautiful," he said, reading her mind.

And she ducked her head, then dropped it to his chest. But he fisted his hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and tugged, until she looked at him again.

"You are," he said in his brook-no-argument cop voice.

Actually, he was the beautiful one.

Not in a soft, pretty boy way, he was far too rugged and weathered for soft. But there was an absolute beauty to his tough, edgy exterior, and she soaked him up.

Sam always moved with such innate grace and ease, that Mercedes tended to forget what a big guy he really was.

But his poise was gone tonight, which made her smile dopily.

And she was the cause.

She'd relaxed him, which was quite a feat in its own right.

"We should have a paint party every night until your house is done," Mercedes said.

Sam took his gaze off her and stared at the walls around them, seeming a little befuddled.

And it was such a shock to see his expression...anything other than his usual imperturbable calm...that she looked around, too, and winced.

"Do the walls seem to be missing a few spots to you?" she asked.

He looked at her, then down at himself.

"I think we're wearing the missing paint," he replied.

His expression cracked her up.

"I've never seen you all discombobulated before," she said.

"I'm not discombobulated."

But he was.

His hair was standing on end, cemented into place, by some paint that might or might not have come from her fingers.

His strong, lean jaw was dark with a full day's growth. And his eyes, those mesmerizing warm green eyes, were glossy.

But most telling of all, was the adorably sexy, lopsided smile on his face.

With such endearing features right in front of her face, Mercedes couldn't help herself, she grabbed Sam's face and gave him a smacking kiss.

"You're so cute," she said.

"Cute?"

He repeated this slowly, like what she said didn't compute.

At some point, he'd stripped out of his shirt and gun and both were on the floor next to the couch...both covered in paint.

Mercedes had no memory of how or when any of that had occurred, but suspected she was at fault.

She really wished she remembered him, stripping off his shirt, but between the wine and beer and her silly low tolerance for booze, she wasn't exactly clearheaded.

"You are cute," she said with conviction.

"Take it back," Sam said.

He looked very serious with his paint highlights, and she struggled not to laugh.

"No can do, Officer...Cute."

His grip tightened on her, and he nipped her bottom lip. And it was in that moment, she heard a ragged moan...only to realize, it was her own.

And that her hands had slid into his hair, to hold his face to hers.

"We can't do this," Sam said against her mouth.

"Why?"

"We're drunk."

"Not that drunk."

"So you're completely aware of the fact that you're grinding against me?" he asked.

'Yikes!'

Mercedes went still with great effort. Then, sat up and carefully got off him.

It took her a moment to find her sea legs, and she had to put her hands out for balance.

"Hey," Sam said. "Come back."

His voice was deep and steady, as he gently commanded her.

She hated commands, but this one suited her.

But first, she took a good long look at him lying there, his chest bare, abs hard and flat, and jeans slung low.

He was so gorgeous and so...

'Bad for me,' she remembered, but just couldn't quite remember why.

"You just said we weren't going to have a drunk make-out."

"Well, I meant, we're not having drunk sex."

He tugged her back over him. And his hard arms encased her, then slid beneath her skirt to grope her ass.

"Drunk making out is absolutely allowed," he said against her mouth. "In fact, it's required."

Mercedes was smiling when Sam kissed her.

He tasted like the beer they'd shared, smelled like wet paint, and felt like warm promise.

It was the best kiss she'd ever had.

They stopped to breathe for a minute, and she set her head down on his chest. It was the last thing she remembered, until some odd and obnoxious pounding sounded between her ears.

When it stopped, she sighed and snuggled into the deliciously heated blanket beneath her, immediately closing her eyes.

After that, came the sound of a door opening, and a low, shocked,

"Jesus Christ!" woke her all the way up.

She opened her eyes to Jackson and Noah, standing in the doorway.

And behind them was...daylight.

This caused her a moment of confusion.

She wasn't at home in her cottage. She was still at Sam's, and in fact, was still on the couch, wrapped up in him.

And covered in paint.

So was Sam.

Though he didn't open his eyes, but tighten his grip on her ass.

The man definitely had a thing about her hind quarters.

"What the hell are you guys doing here?" Sam said to Noah and Jackson without looking. "Besides breaking and entering."

"No breaking. Just entering," Jackson said, with a laugh in his voice.

"We were supposed to meet at eight to go sailing," Noah said. "Then, when you didn't answer your phone..."

Sam sighed, then managed to crack one eye and looked at Mercedes.

"You okay?" he asked her.

Nodding, Mercedes pushed upright and staggered to her feet. When she got her first, full-body view of Sam, she gasped.

And he tilted his head and looked down at himself.

He had fingerprints on each pec. A trail of paint across his perfect, washboard abs.

And a full hand-print on his crotch.

To his credit, he didn't so much as blink. But Mercedes clapped a hand to her mouth, to hold in her horrified laugh.

She had a few hand-prints on herself as well. Big hand-prints, most notably on her breasts.

And Jackson was wearing a shit-eating grin, while Noah looked as if he was trying not to laugh.

But he busted up anyway, and had to fake a cough.

Sam sat up, and Noah not being a stupid man, backed away.

Not Jackson.

He pulled out his cell phone, accessed the camera, and aimed it at Sam's crotch.

"Hold still, man," he said.

But Sam surged to his feet, shoved Noah out the front door, then turned to Jackson, who risked life and limb to take the pic, before stepping back over the threshold.

"Guess you won't be coming with..." Jackson started, but Sam shut the door, locked it, and turned to Mercedes.

"Sorry about those idiots."

"Yes, well, they're not the only idiots."

She put her hands to her head, testing.

'Still on. Good.'

Carefully, she took stock of herself. Everything seemed to be in working order. She looked at Sam.

"I'm going to assume, that since your pants are still on, I didn't get much farther than feeling you up. Right?"

Sam went still, his eyes serious.

"You don't remember last night?" he asked.

"Well, I didn't get lucky. Or I'd have had another asthma attack."

She smiled, but he didn't.

"I took advantage of you," he said, sounding extremely unhappy about this.

"Look, if anyone took advantage of anyone, it was me, Sam. I mean, look at you."

They both looked at his body decor, specifically at the hand on his crotch. And some good humor crossed his face at that.

"You are pretty damn hard to say no to," he said.

She bent for her purse and inhaler.

"And yet, people manage to say no, all the time."

'Crap!'

She really hated when her mouth disconnected from her brain.

She slipped into her shoes and turned to the door, still kicking herself for that revealing statement.

"Mercedes..."

She didn't look at him. She couldn't.

There was something far too serious in his voice, and it tightened her chest.

"Yikes, would you look at the time? Gotta run before my sisters call you to send out a search party for me, which would be awkward, considering I'm here."

She reached for the door.

"Plus, I'm giving facials today at the Garden Society lunch and have to mix up my special anti-aging blend."

She was babbling and she knew it.

She pressed her lips together and told herself to shut up and get out, but when she tried to open the door, Sam's hand appeared above her head, holding it closed.

Dropping her head to the wood, Mercedes tried not to absorb the warmth and strength of Sam standing so close at her back.

But then it got worse, because he turned her to face him.

And she felt more exposed than when she'd been naked with him in his shower.

"I really do have to go," she whispered.

"In a minute." Sam ran a finger over her jaw. "You helped me paint and made my shitty evening a whole lot less shitty. Thank you for that."

She let out a low laugh.

"You could be thanking me for something much more fun, if not for your damn moral high ground."

His eyes met hers, dark and warm.

"Yes, but you wouldn't have remembered it."

He reached for her, and she realized he was going to kiss her.

Horrified, she slapped a hand over her mouth, blocking him.

"Morning breath!" she all but shouted.

And Sam stared at her, clearly torn between amusement and frustration.

"Stay right there," he commanded and vanished into the kitchen, only to come back a few seconds later with a pack of gum.

He popped a piece into his mouth and chewed. When he leaned in again, she slapped a hand to his chest.

"Not you, me!"

This didn't deter him. He pushed a piece of gum between her lips.

"Chew."

Obeying, Mercedes narrowed her eyes and said,

"You sure give a lot of orders."

"Yes. And here's one more. We're both minty fresh now, so kiss me."

With a smile on her face, Mercedes pulled the gum out of her mouth, and Sam did the same.

Going up on tiptoe, she set a hand on his chest and gave him a peck on his warm, firm mouth. And just when she would have ended it, he planted one hand on either side of her head, caging her in.

"Again," he said against her mouth.

Yet another command...but somehow, she didn't mind this one.

The brush of his lips was soft this time, though not tentative. Not at all.

She could feel the barely leashed power, the carefully restrained passion, but for now, with nothing more than their mouths touching, he held it all in careful check, until her fingers curled into his hard biceps and she heard herself moan for more.

And Sam gave it, settling in against her, deepening their connection to a hot, intense tangle of tongues, that would've had her sliding to the floor, if his arms hadn't been now banded tightly around her.

When they finally broke apart, she stared at him, happy that he wasn't breathing any steadier than her.

"Okay, then," she said, nodding like a bobble-head.

She whirled to leave...and walked right into the door.

Without laughing at her, though she was quite certain he was doing his damnedest to hold it in, Sam smirked and reached around her to open the door.

"Thanks," she muttered and flew out of there, her face hotter than the morning sun.

Two minutes later, Mercedes was on the road, smacking her forehead through her helmet, trying to get the brain cells back in working order.

"Don't you fall for him," she ordered herself, peeping into the side mirror, to make sure she got the message.

Her image didn't answer, but there was something different about her.

Dammit! She had the Maylene glow!

This was bad.

Falling for Sam would be a stupid move.

Sure, he wanted her. But she also drove him crazy.

She wasn't right for him, and no matter what he'd said about appreciating her as is, there was no doubt in her mind...in order to become the woman he needed, she'd have to change.

Already facing that very problem with her sisters, it felt too overwhelming for her to even go there.

But it was like a damn song in her head all the same.

Change, and you can have acceptance. Change, and you can catch a man. Change, and…

God, she was damn tired of that song.

In any case, it wasn't as if Sam was going to fall for her. He was smarter than that.

The man thought things through, never made a misstep, and had himself rigidly controlled.

Well, except for last night.

She'd gotten him drunk.

She hoped he didn't blame her for that...though why not?

It had been her doing.

It was always her doing.

He'd have to repaint, of course. Or maybe not.

He hadn't done much with the place in the way of making it a home. Not that she'd had a lot of experience with making anything a home, but she did have Tessa and Maylene, both of whom were great at it.

The cottage was a little messy but it was full of her things.

That is what made staying there felt so good, seeing the tangible evidence that she belonged.

Even something as small as her favorite glass jars for her creams, lined up on her dresser, instead of shoved into her backpack, made her smile.

But Sam had nothing of himself in his house, other than some pretty badly painted walls.

It was a start, she had to admit. He was trying. He didn't have two sisters to show him how. Hell, he probably didn't want sisters. Or a real home for that matter.

She actually had no idea.

He was quite the puzzle.

All she knew for sure, was that he wanted her body.

And that, at least, was very mutual.

For several days, Mercedes kept herself busy.

It wasn't hard.

She taught yoga, worked on a recipe for a mud skin mask, and babysat the inn when Maylene was off doing wedding stuff, or Tessa attended a culinary conference.

One of the days she brought Sam a picnic lunch of Thai food to his station.

She found him hunched over his desk scowling at his computer, and he looked so surprised that someone had thought to feed him, that she felt an uncomfortable surge of tenderness.

It was incredibly foolish, and she spent two days lying low after that, making sure not to run into him. Because even one more time, her heart told her, and she wouldn't be able to continue, to keep things so light and breezy.

It was during those days, that she accepted the first four bookings for the following month, at their new day spa...the one that didn't quite exist yet.

She'd warned the potential clients, that they weren't up to full service at this time and hoped it was enough to keep her out of hot water with her sisters.

And then she'd called Noah.

"We've got a month," she told him.

He hesitated.

"Maylene and Tessa know this?"

"They will."

"Shit, Mercy."

"I'm not asking for a miracle. Just some basic cosmetic stuff to make the room look warm and inviting. I'll tell Maylene and Tessa, I swear, but I need to know what you can pull off and how fast you can do it."

"I'll get back to you," he said.

"Thanks."

Mercedes hung up and buried herself in work once more.

She was even too busy to think about Sam...or so she told herself.

But it wasn't true.

She thought about him a lot and more differently than she used to.

Once, she'd thought of him as untouchable, but apparently, once you finger-painted a man's crotch, things changed in that regard.

Plus, she'd seen another side to him now, discovered layers and complexity, and learned some more of his past.

So he no longer felt untouchable. In fact, he'd become infinitely touchable.

The next night, a windstorm moved in and knocked out power.

This wouldn't have bothered Mercedes, except that it was a weekend, and they had three of their rooms booked, and she wanted to make sure the guests enjoyed their stay.

Without electricity.

Maylene had lit candles throughout the inn, giving it a soft, warm glow for their guests.

She had used vegetable-based candles, so they didn't aggravate Mercedes' asthma. And Tessa barbecued on the covered deck, over their brand-spanking-new gas, smokeless grill.

"It's older than the hills and got twice as much dust," Tessa had said of their old grill. But they all knew she'd spent a fortune on the new one for Mercedes' sake.

Maylene dug a sand pit on the beach and coaxed everyone outside for s'mores. But Mercedes reminded her, that they needed a permit to light a fire on the which, her sister assured her, that it had been taken care of...and then laughed at her, because, she'd never been one to worry about breaking any city ordinances before.

Maylene's amusement was met with some irritability on Mercedes' part, because it was true.

Since when did she worry about a city ordinance?

"I can't sit at a campfire without getting wheezy," Mercedes said.

And Maylene handed her a paper surgical mask, like the one she had worn at Sam's house.

"I got a stack from Marci at the hospital," her sister said proudly. "See if it works."

To Mercedes' surprise, it did and kept the smoke out.

The guests of the B&B were three middle-aged couples...all friends...traveling together, up the coast to Canada.

They had a great time making s'mores, and when they'd headed off to bed, Tessa stoked the fire, while Maylene called the diner.

Within ten minutes, the sisters had company.

Jackson, Noah, and of course...Sam.

Mercedes looked at him from across the fire, and he looked right back.

He was out of uniform tonight, she noticed. He was in battered jeans and a CHP hoodie sweatshirt.

His green eyes were inscrutable, his jaw stubbled, and his thoughts hidden.

Jackson had brought beer, which he passed out to everyone, except Sam and Mercedes.

"You two kids didn't seem to know your limits the other night," he said.

Sam gave him a level look.

"This, from the guy who once drunk-dialed Tessa, until I saved his ass by stealing his phone."

Jackson winced and offered him a beer, which he didn't take.

Whether he was on call later or had DEA business, Mercedes didn't know. What she did know, was that Tessa and Maylene were staring at her.

She knew this was because, they'd thought she'd been camping the night she spent at Sam's.

"You said you were with Tenny," Tessa said.

And Sam arched an amused brow at Mercedes.

Suddenly, the annoying mask was her best friend, as it allowed her to hide her expression with ease.

"I never said I was with Tenny."

"You said you were with a friend," Maylene said. "We assumed."

"Tenny has been busy lately...plus, I just said I was going camping and wouldn't be back until morning," Mercedes said. And then, "Tenny has a new girlfriend. She's really great for him. She's given him this new lease on life and..."

"Hold it," Tessa said, clearly not interested in Tenny's love life. Just Mercedes'. "So you and Sam are..." She waggled a finger back and forth between them.

"No!" both Sam and Mercedes both answered in unison.

Then, Mercedes sent Sam a long look.

It was one thing for her to say no, but she sure as hell didn't like that, he felt as strongly about it as she did.

"Okay, but since when are you two friends?" Tessa asked. "Friends who have sleepovers."

"I like those kinds of friends," Jackson said.

"We're not that kind of friends," Mercedes said, pulling down the mask, to make sure she gave the full-effect, to the glare she sent to a silent Sam. "Feel free to step in anytime here and defend my honor, sheriff."

"Mercedes right," Sam said, never taking his eyes off of her. "We're not friends."

He was looking at her from dark, brooding, heated eyes, which of course, didn't help at all.

"What the hell is going on with you two?" Tessa asked, clearly unhappy.

"Nothing!" Mercedes said.

"They were fully dressed when Jackson and I found them the other morning," Noah offered helpfully. "Well, actually, Chloe was dressed. Big guy here was shirtless. Oh, and he had his hands up her skirt, but..."

Sam cut his eyes to Noah, who shrugged, as if it was no big deal.

Meanwhile, Maylene was staring at her husband-to-be.

"And you didn't tell me?" she said to Noah.

Jackson tsked in mocking disapproval.

"Rookie mistake," he whispered to Tessa.

"For God's sake," Mercedes said, surging to her feet.

She stabbed at the fire with a big stick, thinking about using it to whack Sam across the back of his big, fat head. But since she didn't want to be arrested tonight, she shoved the stick into the fire and pulled out her iPhone.

She accessed her Magic Eight application.

"For my sisters' sake," she said to it, "Please state for the record, whether or not I'm capable of running my own life."

The answer was short and sweet.

Without a Doubt.

"Ha!" Righteously triumphant, Mercedes sank back to her beach chair. "One hundred percent accurate, as always."

"Actually, statistically speaking," Noah said, ever the lawyer, even though he hadn't practiced law in six years, "It has to be wrong fifty percent of the time."

Jackson took the iPhone from Mercedes.

"Magic Eight, will Noah ever learn that he doesn't know everything?"

The screen went cloudy and then cleared.

Don't Count on It.

Everyone laughed except Noah, who was trying...unsuccessfully...to pull a resisting Maylene down to his lap.

He snatched the phone from Jackson.

"Hey," he said to it. "I'm still getting married next month, right?"

Outlook Good.

He let out a loud breath of relief and Maylene gave a low laugh, finally allowing him to pull her down to his lap.

"Was that really in question?" she asked.

"Just making sure," Noah replied.

"See?" Mercedes said smugly. "Always accurate."

"That's because you ask it only the easy stuff," Tessa said. "Ask it if you're ever going to settle down."

"I already know the answer to that," Mercedes told her. "When I'm old. Reaaaaally old," she added, catching Sam's knowing eyes. "Like when I'm thirty-whatever."

The thirty-whatever Sam Evans smiled at her, but didn't take the bait.

However, thirty-five-year old Tessa raised a threatening brow.

"Ask it if you'll ever be able to say what you're really thinking."

Everyone smiled at this, because they all knew, Mercedes always said whatever she was thinking.

"No, she doesn't always," Maylene said. "She never says I love you."

"Maybe because I don't."

Mercedes said it teasingly enough, but the silly game suddenly felt too serious.

It was so simple for her sisters, she thought, surrounded by the security of the men who loved them.

But for someone like her, who've never experienced that kind of security and love, it wasn't so simple at all.

"So maybe that's the real question," Tessa said and took the phone. "Magic Eight Ball, will my sister ever say I Love You?"

Ridiculously, Mercedes found herself holding her breath, as she waited for the screen to clear, which pissed her off.

She didn't need a stinking app to give her an answer, but it came regardless.

Absolutely Yes.

Stay safe!