A Seal's Touch. Tawny Weber

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      She’d also spent years studying possibilities. So she knew that it was impossible to turn a cozy cottage into a sleek penthouse.

      “How about this?” Ashlynn asked, turning from the closet with a hanger held high. On it was one of the few dresses Cat owned. Denim—her favorite go-to fabric—fell in slim lines to midcalf. The floral sweetheart bodice was held together with suede laces that matched the braided shoulder straps. “This looks good on you, it’s not frilly but it’s still feminine. You’ll be comfortable in it.”

      She’d been comfortable when she’d worn it to a family reunion and to her electrician’s wedding. And while she’d felt normal in it, not as if she was wearing a costume, she’d still been hit on every time she’d worn it.

      Cat frowned at the dress then at Ashlynn.

      “I don’t have a bikini,” she said, looking for an out. Or her sanity, which seemed less findable.

      “Don’t you have other swimsuits? What about that blue one?”

      “The one Sophia got me?” Still not sure what her sister had been thinking, Cat shook her head. “I’m not wearing that in public. Besides leaving half my boobs on display, it requires a close relationship with a woman with hot wax and ripping skills.”

      “High on the thighs?”

      “It doesn’t touch my thighs. I swear, the legs on that suit start at my belly button. Which is just about where the top stops.” She’d return it, but she had no idea where her sister had bought the thing. Instead, it had been tucked away in the holy-hell-what-were-they-thinking drawer, along with the various pieces of sexy lingerie her sisters all figured she, as the only single one among them, must wear on a regular basis.

      “Fine, I guess your suit will do. Let’s fix the rest of you.” Before Cat could blink, the other woman threw the dress on the bed, had a bag from her purse in one hand and grabbed Cat’s hand with the other.

      “Come on.”

      “Where?”

      “Here,” Ashlynn instructed, pointing to the chair by the window with one hand while pulling out bottles and tubes. “You’re going to the beach, you want natural light.”

      Natural, like the state of her face already? But Cat knew better than to argue, so she sat.

      “A little tinted moisturizer, bronzer instead of blush and a subtle smoky eye. You’ll love it.”

      “How do you know these things?” Cat wondered out loud as Ashlynn smoothed lotion over her face before dipping a brush into some peachy-gold-colored cream that she’d squirted on the back of her hand.

      “How do you not know these things?” Her brown eyes narrowed in concentration, Ashlynn took a second to roll them. “You have all those sisters. Yet you don’t have a clue about makeup, dressing like a girl, any of that. How is that possible?”

      “Rebellion,” she said, going with the easiest answer. The truth was that, to all of her sisters, being beautifully feminine was natural. They were never seen without their makeup, their hair was always carefully styled and they wore outfits, not clothes.

      “You’re lucky that rebellion looks good on you. If I weren’t your best friend, I’d have a whole lot of hate for someone who puts in as little effort as you do yet always gets all the looks and leers.”

      “You want a guy leering at you?”

      “I didn’t say they were all guys. Now close your eyes.”

      Eyes closed, Cat asked, “You’re kidding, right?”

      “About the looks and leers? Nope. I can’t believe you never noticed. That’s another thing I’d hate if I didn’t like you so much. It’s as if you’re oblivious to your own appeal.”

      Maybe because the only person whose look or leer she’d ever really wanted was Taylor’s.

      “It’s not like I’m a sheltered virgin,” she murmured defensively as Ashlynn drew a pencil along her lash line.

      “Virgin, no. Sheltered, hmm...”

      “What’s that mean?” Forgetting about the weapon of makeup destruction in her friend’s hand, Cat’s eyes flew open. “I work with a crew of forty men and apprenticed with Local One as a carpenter. I’m surrounded by men whose idea of tact is to cut their four-letter-word consumption by a third instead of doubling it when I’m around. How is that sheltered?”

      “You have a crew of guys who work under you—and not in a sexy way—all of whom know you’re the boss’s niece, most of whom worked for your dad when he was the boss.” Ashlynn rubbed a stubby brush along the pencil line. “You date once in a blue moon and always go out with guys who are intimidated by you.”

      Before Cat could protest, Ashlynn pointed to the ceiling with a mascara wand.

      “Look up. This is waterproof so don’t worry about hitting the ocean. And I’m not saying the guys you’ve dated are wimps. You have better taste than that. I’m just saying that none of them is the kind of guy to make you crazy. To make you want to do the kind of thing that you wouldn’t want on the internet—but would risk videotaping, anyway.”

      Cat really wanted to deny that but she couldn’t. She just wished it didn’t make her feel so bummed, though. Was there something wrong with her that she only attracted internet-video-safe guys?

      Wand held high, Ashlynn stepped back to inspect her work. She tilted her head to one side, her brown curls hitting the right shoulder. She tilted the other way, curls brushing the left.

      “Lip stain instead of lipstick,” she concluded, digging into the bag. “This will last through the afternoon, through a few bouts in the sea and at least one hot kiss.”

      “I’m going with Taylor,” Cat reminded her, speaking carefully so as not to move the lips being stained. “No plans to kiss.”

      “Plans can change,” Ashlynn said, waggling the stain in Cat’s face. “And when they do, your lips can handle them.”

      Cat pressed her lips together, wondering how they’d feel if Taylor deemed them ready. Her stomach did a little dance before she could stop it. Crazy, she told herself. She wasn’t going to be kissing Taylor on their fake date.

      “What are you doing?” she asked when Ashlynn moved around the chair behind her. “Hey, that’s my braid.”

      “Who wears their hair in a braid on a date?”

      “Someone going to the beach,” Cat ventured with a sigh. Yet another reason why she wouldn’t be kissing Taylor. Fake date or not, she simply wasn’t girly enough to even know that braids were a dating no-no.

      “You wear your hair in either a ponytail or a braid all the time. Tonight, you loosen it up.”

      “Why?”

      “Because you’re going out with Taylor Powell.”

      “Why are you so excited about this?” Cat frowned, wishing she could touch her face. It felt normal. She dropped her bottom lip, opened her mouth wide, shifted her chin from side to side. It even moved. “You’re more excited about this than I am.”

      “That’s because I’m seeing the possibilities while you’re talking yourself out of them.”

      “What!” Closing her mouth so fast her teeth snapped together, Cat frowned. A part of her was relieved that she could.

      “You need to spend time with a guy who isn’t intimidated by your strength. You need to have some fun, and by fun I mean with people who don’t use hammers for a living. And most of all,” Ashlynn said as she twisted pieces of Cat’s hair back while leaving the rest loose, “you need sex.”

      “Sex?” Cat would have laughed if she wasn’t afraid Ashlynn might pull her hair out. “You think