Stop that, she said to her reflection. Get your mind back on track or you will never finish the damn book.

Natalie had gotten up early that morning. She had taken the computer out onto the porch so that the typing wouldn't disturb Howie. She had to go back into the cabin a couple of times to check items on her story board and had eased the door open and shut as quietly as possible. The door needed some oil, she thought. I should've bought that instead of gardening gloves. On one of her forays in, she heard the shower running, so she brought the computer back inside and plugged it back in to recharge the battery.

"Good morning."

She turned to give a response. He was standing in the bathroom doorway, dressed in sweatpants...and that was all. He was rubbing his head with a towel, the action making the well-defined muscles in his arms and chest do interesting things to Natalie's breathing patterns.

She'd gone to bed the night before, her thoughts and feelings in disarray. She gave herself a stern lecture. She was here to do work. She was here because she fallen behind, and she'd fallen behind because of a man. She could not let another man interfere with her life. Especially one that didn't seem to have any interest in her. What a waste of time it would be to keep thinking about his arms around her and that soft voice telling her to feel the music! Way to go, she thought. Now you'll never get to sleep. But she had, and she'd had pleasant dreams. She couldn't remember them, but she woke up with a warm feeling of satisfaction.

"Did you sleep well?" she managed to croak out.

"Yes, thank you," he replied. And then, "that door needs oil."

"I'm sorry. I thought if I worked on the porch, you wouldn't hear the typing. But my story board..." She waved a hand vaguely in that direction. Great! she thought. We've done it again. We've started the day with a 'sorry'.

"It's okay," said Howie. He yawned. "I read until quite late. I love doing that and then sleeping in. It's a perfect start to the day." He nodded at the computer. "How's the work going?"

It was their best day so far, she thought. They hadn't argued once. They had given each other space to work, and both agreed at the end of the day that they had accomplished a lot. Natalie put the finishing touches on her makeup and picked up her hairbrush. Yes, if they could have more days like today, they could easily make it through the next week. Natalie just had to concentrate on keeping her hands to herself. She was a touchy-feely kind of a person, always putting a hand on someone's arm as she spoke to them or patting them if they made her laugh. And the more comfortable she got with someone, the more she did it. And Howie had these curls at the back of his neck that she just wanted to... She shook her head. Snap out of it, she told herself. NOW!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Howie looked at himself in the mirror. He looked good, he thought. He was wearing beige khakis and a dark brown shirt. Tucked in too. He laughed to himself. If he had been at home, he wouldn't have tucked it in, or even have done it up completely. But he figured that in Big Timber, Montana, that might mark him as a person who didn't know how to dress himself, rather than a fashion leader. He undid the buttons from the top down...one, then two, then three...nope...two. Yeah, that was it. Not sleazy, but not tightass, as AJ would say. AJ. Howie sighed as he thought of his friend. His mind naturally went to the others. Nick. Brian. Kevin. He wondered what they were doing. They had really lost touch with each other. Oh, they still talked on the phone. Whenever one of them would be interviewed or announce a solo project, the others would call. But it wasn't like it was before. There would be congratulations and questions of clarification. They all wanted to be on the same page. But the brotherhood had been replaced by an aloofness...nothing deliberate, just a moving apart. Howie guessed it was a natural course, and probably a healthy one. They had lived in each other's pockets for too long. But still he sighed again.

Well, you'd better get rid of this mopey attitude for the dance, he told himself. He wondered if he would be recognized by anyone at the dance. He didn't know if he wanted to be or if he didn't want to be. He had gone almost a whole week without anyone asking for an autograph or shoving a microphone in his face. He liked it, but it was weird at the same time. Back home, if he went shopping, people let him be, ignored him, but they were still aware of who he was. But here they didn't seem to have any idea. And living with a Backstreet Boy hadn't caused the slightest blip on Natalie's radar.

He smiled again as he thought of dancing with her. He had enjoyed last night...and today. Today was their best day so far. They hadn't argued about anything. She seemed to have lost some of that edge. He wondered what that guy had done to her to make her so bitter. There had to be more than just the fact that he was married. He remembered that the biggest insult she could throw at him when they were having the fight was that he was a 'man'. He grimaced at the mirror.

He just had to concentrate on keeping his hands to himself. She was a very attractive woman and he would be interested at any time. But in the close confines of the cabin...she was filling up his psyche. Even when they were fighting, it was exciting. She had a spirit about her...she didn't take much from anyone. But at the same time, she was wounded...vulnerable.

Her scent was intoxicating. He wondered what it was...not flowery, a hint of musk, but not much. He had breathed it in while he had held her last night, trying to move the music through his body into hers. He was certainly glad he hadn't had his shirt tucked in then! He was having an obvious reaction to his closeness and when she hugged him at the end, he was afraid she would notice so he had stepped back from her.

And cooking together was becoming excruciating. They moved around the kitchen, their hands busy...chopping, stirring, peeling. Their bodies grazed against each other. There were times when he wanted to drop everything and grab her, put his mouth on those lips, run his hands over...Get a grip, Sweet D, he told himself. Snap out of it!

Mealtimes, during both the preparation and the eating, were when they had their best conversations. At dinner tonight, they had discussed government subsidies for farmers. It was a subject that he didn't think he knew anything about or even had an opinion on. It turned out that he was wrong on both counts.

That was another thing he liked about her. She was obviously very bright and, man, did she use a lot of big words. But it wasn't put on...she wasn't trying to impress him or intimidate him...it was just the way she was. And he wasn't intimidated. He'd been to college. Oh, he knew she could kick his ass in any kind of IQ test or vocabulary quiz, but he wasn't the dim-bulb Backstreet Boy he was made out to be. He had a head for business. And he sensed that she realized that. And that pleased him.

And she was in awe of his talent. She had said so. Right in the middle of dinner. Right after questioning the wisdom of the government paying American farmers to let their land lie fallow, when much of the Third World was starving to death. Right there. She had made a comparison to his music. Would he stop writing songs, she asked, just let his awesome talent lie dormant, because the price of records was dropping due to a glut on the market?

He had smiled at her. No, he wouldn't.

"Sing me one," she said. "One of the Spanish ones." He had given her more details about his upcoming CD earlier.

"Do you speak Spanish?" he asked.

"Just a little...movie lines and travel phrases. Your song wouldn't be called 'una cerveza, por favor', would it?"

He had laughed out loud at that. He wasn't sure a song called, 'Could I have a beer, please?' would race up the charts. Maybe the country charts, Natalie had said, and they had laughed together, wondering how many songs they would hear tonight about beer...or trucks...or dogs...

"...or low-life, heartbreaking, cheatin' men," Natalie had finished with a laugh that turned into a sigh.

Howie had got out his guitar and, while Natalie carried the dishes from the table, he got comfortable and picked out the opening chords. She had stood on the other side of the kitchen counter and listened intently. He wasn't sure if she liked the song or not. At the end, she had said nothing for a moment, and then had murmured, "lovely" and then left the room, tossing "time to get ready" over her shoulder.

Well, he was ready, thought Howie. Now get out there and let's hope she's not looking too hot.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If only I hadn't asked him to sing in Spanish, thought Natalie, giving a last pat to her hair. That had removed every inhibition from her head and body. If he had said, "Get undressed..." when he stopped singing, she would have been naked before he could have put down the guitar. But he didn't, of course. He just played the final notes and gave that enigmatic smile, wanting her opinion - not just her approval, but her honest opinion. He had thanked her twice today for her suggestion about his song and had asked what she thought of another one he was working on.

But she hadn't given him much on the Spanish song. Because she couldn't speak. She couldn't think. She could barely breathe. It was beautiful. He was beautiful and she had gripped the countertop hard to keep herself from putting her hands on him. She'd made some feeble comment about the time and staggered from the room, her legs shaking.

She shook her head at her reflection. Okay, now get out there and keep your distance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natalie opened the bedroom door and came out into the living room. Howie was putting the last of the dishes into the draining rack.

"I was going to get to those," said Natalie. Until you started singing, mi amigo, she thought. And I forgot what I was supposed to be doing.

Howie smiled at her. "It's okay. Didn't take long. Nice outfit."

"Thanks," said Natalie, twirling around. "Do you think it will be appropriate for the dance?"

"Yes," said Howie, "not too hot."

"Thanks...I think," she said sarcastically, but her eyes were twinkling.

Howie blushed and stammered, "I meant that...like...in a non-threatening way."

"No woman is going to feel the need to beat me up?" she asked.

"Maybe Mandy," said Howie, who still wasn't convinced there wasn't some kind of attraction between Natalie and Ty. "Well, shall we?" he asked, looking at his watch.

"Let's go dancing," said Natalie.