Mr Right Next Door. Teresa Hill
I’m sure they would have,” Nick said. “They just… Well, there was a little problem with the electricity.”
“Electricity?” Harry said. “Sure. Okay. We can do that. Power’s going out at the Bluebird in minutes. I’m on it.”
“They don’t have any power,” Nick said. Harry could make it true. “Don’t know when it’ll be back up and they wouldn’t let me check in, not knowing if they’d have electricity.”
“Oh, well… You poor thing,” she said.
Nick tried hard to look like a poor thing.
He feared it wouldn’t take much effort.
“On that plane all night and now you don’t even have a room,” Mrs. Baker said, shaking her head sympathetically. “And you’re hurt?”
It was only then that he realized he was rubbing his sore shoulder.
“Oh, it’s nothing. Really, ma’am.”
Hurt, tired, no room and no breakfast, unless she took him in.
He stood there and let it all sink in.
He could limp a little if he had to.
“Well, we can’t leave you in such a sad state with no place to stay,” she said. “If you don’t care that the place is not quite ready, I guess I don’t, either.”
Okay.
He was in.
“So, would you happen to have a room that gets morning sun? I’m an early riser, love morning sunshine,” he said, trying not to choke on the words as he went inside.
Nick feared he would indeed be able to look into Kim Cassidy’s living room window from his room.
God help him.
He tugged on his tie, which was absolutely too tight when he thought about what he might see of her in those windows, in what she believed was the privacy of her own living room.
“You dog,” Harry said, when he told him about the view.
Please let her close her blinds very tightly at night. Please.
As it was, he could glance over and see her moving around in there. The blinds were tilted at an angle that would have blocked any view from the street, but the second floor of the B&B was higher than the second floor of her house, and he was afraid the angle coupled with a light being left on inside once it got dark would prove devastating to a man who’d been looking at her for way too long already.
“I’ve got to get some air,” he told Harry, abandoning the unpacking and hiding of his little spy toys, in case he couldn’t convince Mrs. Baker not to clean his room.
He bolted from the room, down the stairs, startling her as she swept the kitchen.
“Sorry,” he said. “Just need some air.”
“Oh, well try the patio. The backyard is glorious this time of year.”
“Okay.”
Out he went, finding himself on a flagstone patio complete with a wrought iron table and chairs, plus a chaise lounge. He considered collapsing upon the lounge chair, but after doing such a great sell job on being exhausted and hurt, his landlady would probably call EMS for him. So he stayed on his feet, trying not to pace too obviously and maybe muttering to himself. He couldn’t quite be sure, just hoped it wasn’t classified information coming out of his mouth.
He got to one end of the stone patio, lined with all sorts of blooming things in big stone planters, then pivoted to head in the other direction. Back and forth he went, until he pivoted for the last time and…
Nearly found himself with an armful of woman.
“Ahhh.” She caught her breath.
He did, too.
Was he dreaming? Hallucinating? Sleeping right now?
Nick shook his head to clear it, but the image before him remained stubbornly the same.
Her.
His pretty, distracting blonde, right here in front of him.
She tried to back up but couldn’t because he held her by her arms. Because he’d been afraid of knocking her over. And then she smiled up at him.
“Hi,” she said. “Sorry. I was going to say hi, and then you turned around and…well… Hi.”
“Hi,” he said, nearly incoherently.
“Oh, yeah. Forgot to tell you,” Harry said into his ear. “She’s on her way over there.”
Harry was such an ass and Nick could not for the life of him figure out where the man was, what possible spot could give him the vantage point he needed to see everything that he’d seen.
The jerk.
In front of him, the pretty blonde’s smile faltered, no doubt because of the scowl on Nick’s own face.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said.
“No. No. It’s not that,” he said, making himself let go of her. If she wanted to run away from him, he wasn’t going to stop her. Hell, he’d probably thank her, despite the job he had to do. “I was just distracted. That’s all. Sorry I almost plowed into you.”
“I’m fine. Just surprised. I thought you were Sam.”
“Sam?”
“Mrs. Baker’s nephew. I saw you from the back and you’re about the same height and he has brown hair like yours. Although I would have been surprised to see Sam in a suit. Still… Sam’s been working in the backyard for weeks, helping to get the B&B ready. I was just going to say hi to him before I went inside to see Mrs. Baker.”
She smiled again, stood there with the full light of the sun glinting off her blond curls, her legs bare, her arms, all that golden sun-kissed skin. Not as much as she’d shown off in the yellow bikini, but more than enough to give a man all sorts of ideas.
He’d kept thinking on the ship, as she’d sunned herself, of how warm her skin must be after she laid in the sunshine for so long. How hot she’d be to the touch.
Nick made a face, then tried not to. He’d already nearly scared her away. He just had to stop thinking about her and her skin and touching her. He just needed to spy on her without thinking of her.
How the hell was he supposed to do that?
Into his head came that old Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones song.
You make a grown man cryyyyy-eeyyyyyyee. Do-do-do-do. You make a grown man cryyyy-eeyyyyyee.
She could definitely make a man cry.
“So…” she said, still looking way too friendly despite his Dr.-Jekyll-and-Mr.-Hyde act. “Did Mrs. Baker open up the B&B while I was gone?”
“She didn’t plan on it, but I convinced her to take me in early.” He tried to gather up enough scattered brain cells to put together another sentence. Come on, Nick. She’s just a woman, one who’s likely in love with a crook at that. “I’m Nick. Nick Cavanaugh.”
He had no choice but to offer his hand and, despite his every wish or maybe because of things he wouldn’t even let himself admit he wanted, she took it. He didn’t think he was standing there with his mouth hanging open, thinking way too much about having her hand in his, but he couldn’t be sure. And yes, even her hand was hot to the touch. Had she been sunning herself and he’d missed it?
“Down, boy,” Harry said.
Sweet hell.
This assignment was going to kill him.
“I’m