Wade Kinsella was a dead man.

It had been an absolutely perfect afternoon so far. There was a cool breeze drifting through his open window, and he had nothing to do all day but lounge on his couch, beer in hand. And how often did that happen? If he wasn't at the Rammer Jammer, he was usually out sobering up his dad, helping Lavon with something or another, or fixing the damn fuse box that he shared with Doctor Zoe Hart.

Who was precisely the reason why he was currently frozen on his couch, his blood pressure skyrocketing. Because Zoe Hart was in his living room. And she was wearing nothing but an open trench coat, dangerously high red stilettos, and a nervous smile.

Wade fumbled around for one of his trademark sexual innuendos, but came up empty. He had no precedent for this, not with Zoe.

"Hey there, Doc," he managed, searching for a casual, even flippant tone. Was he fazed? Not a bit. No way. She'd need more than a flash of skin to get him riled up. He was unaffected, unimpressed. Lightheaded? A few too many beers, that's all. Palms sweating? It was Alabama, for God's sake. You couldn't breathe in this climate without overheating.

His eyes traveled up golden legs, showcased in all their glory by the heels, and landed on the most perfect pair of breasts he'd ever seen in his life, sweet Lord in heaven. And he'd seen some damn fine breasts in his time.

He was on fire from the inside. And she was coming closer. Before he could react, the coat was off and she was straddling him on the couch, his couch, and her hands were in his hair and her lips were pressed firmly against his own. And she was taking no prisoners. She let out a soft mewling sound and arched her hips against his own. Wade bit back a moan. "Jesus, Zoe, we should talk about this," he ground out. "Right?" She merely smiled, the smart-ass Zoe Hart smile he knew so well, and proceeded to grasp the bottom of his t-shirt and pull it up and over his head. In an instant the pressure of her mouth was back, tasting of peppermint and coffee, and this time he could feel the delicious softness of her breasts pressed against his bare chest. It was Zoe's turn to moan as Wade instinctively followed the curve of her waist with the palm of his hand, coming to rest on one softly rounded curve, his thumb whispering across the flushed skin. "Oh, God, Wade, yes," she murmured, and rocked back, the niche between her thighs cradling him perfectly.

"Fuck, Zoe, you're so soft. So beautiful," he muttered incoherently against the curve of her neck. Her skin was like velvet, and he was harder than he'd ever been in his life and his pants weren't even off yet. With one last searing kiss, she leaned back and arched an eyebrow at him, and her small, dangerous hands fluttered down his chest to settle on the button of his jeans."Too many clothes," she whispered, and without thinking he arched his back to allow her to rid him of the offending garment. In an instant he was as naked as she, and her hand was wrapped around him, and she was smiling, her brown curls tumbling around soft, glorious bare skin, and he didn't know anything except that his brain had short-circuited about five minutes and a few too many kisses ago. She was so close, he could feel her breath upon his skin, and he felt like a randy 16 year old instead of the seasoned town lothario that he was. Her soft pink lips were right there, Oh, God, it was every fantasy he had ever had about the gorgeous, buttoned-up doctor since she moved to town and invaded his life and his dreams...

And in a blink of an eye it was over and she was gone, and he was alone on his couch, Oprah yelling at him from the television, his entire body covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He let out a long breath and his head fell back against the cushions. It was obvious that he needed two things, stat: 1. An extremely cold shower, and 2. To find a way to get Zoe Hart out of his system, and fast, or he'd never have an innocuous nap again.

Suddenly the TV snapped off, along with his lamp, and he heard a crash coming from the direction of Zoe's house, followed by a scream.

It was going to be a long year.