Barely Behaving. JENNIFER LABRECQUE
lot better than Genghis. She’d changed into a black shirt and pants that hugged her feminine curves. Bracelets encircled half the length between her wrist and forearm. Her scent, an exotic blend of spices, tantalized him. A harem girl fantasy popped into his tired, overwrought brain and refused to budge. Her wearing only those bracelets and a bunch of veils. Smooth gold skin. Navel ring. Her exotic fragrance.
Niall stepped inside and her arm brushed against his. Heat sizzled though him at the brief contact. What kind of heat would an intentional caress generate? Maybe he was simply tired and hungry but she blew his composure to hell. He turned to face her as she closed the door behind him. “I brought a six-pack of beer. Unfortunately, it’s warm, but I didn’t want to show up empty-handed.”
She took the package. “You didn’t have to do that, but thanks.”
Niall looked around the room, convinced that was a better plan than gawking at her.
If his kitchen was happy, her house was nearly ecstatic. From outside, it looked like the other neighborhood houses, but inside it was bright and bold. Yellow-gold walls and furniture in a mix of reds, purples and bright blues created a room that was comfortable and inviting without being fussy. “This is great.”
For a moment he glimpsed something akin to insecurity in her eyes—as if she’d been nervous about his response to her house. Quick as a flash it was gone and she smiled, obviously pleased by his response. “Yeah. I like it. Sort of vintage meets eclectic. I’m still working on it, but it’s been fun. That’s one of the great things about living alone. You only have to please yourself.” She arched her brow. “I bet Mia never let you keep your workout equipment in the dining room.”
Niall grinned at the thought of his Nautilus machine sandwiched between Ethan Allen dining room pieces. “How’d you know?”
“Woman’s intuition.” Her slow smile spiraled heat through him. “Come on. If you don’t mind hanging out in the kitchen. You can put a dent in the chips and salsa while I make the salad. You must be ravenous.”
“I wouldn’t turn food down. Thanks for inviting me over. Something smells good.” His stomach growled as backup.
“Bread and baked potatoes. The steaks will only take a minute.” He followed her, mesmerized by the sway of her hips and the curve of her back. She pointed to a small hallway to the right. “Bathroom and two bedrooms over there. This is really more of a cottage than a house but it’s mine.” The note of pride in her declaration was unmistakable. “And here’s the kitchen.”
At least a dozen flickering candles, of various shapes and sizes, casts shadows on the walls, creating a cozy intimacy in the galley kitchen despite the regular lighting over the sink. From the wax puddles, Niall surmised Tammy was into a candlelit kitchen, guest or no guest. Vintage Al Green crooned from a cabinet-mounted CD player. Lots of atmosphere. Very sexy. Very relaxing. “Very nice.”
“Thanks. Have a seat and I’ll get you something to drink. How about one of those beers you drooled over earlier?”
“I’m holding you to it.” Niall settled on a stool at a tile-topped island that doubled as a table in the compact kitchen. A large bowl of chips, salsa and guacamole sat in the middle of the island.
“One beer coming up.” She opened the fridge and bent forward, molding her black slacks across her heart-shaped bottom and damn near giving him a heart attack. “Help yourself to the chips and salsa. Be careful with the salsa. It’s hot.”
“That’s what you said earlier. I’m sure I can handle it.” He stared at the smooth expanse of skin bared by her shirt riding up above the waist of her pants, not nearly as confident he could handle himself around her.
She straightened, two beer bottles in hand and a smile lighting face. “Ah, a man after my own heart.”
She pulled a couple of frosty mugs from the freezer and opened the bottles. “How do you like it? Head or no head?”
Holy mother of Christ. His earlier harem girl fantasy supplied a mental image that left him happy to be seated. It promised to be one long night if he continued to read sexual meaning into her every utterance. “Head, please.”
She offered another slow, sexy smile that sizzled through him. “Coming right up.”
Yeah, he was.
“I like head, as well. There you are.” She carefully placed the beer on the tile in front of him.
“Thanks.”
She sat across from him. Her foot skimmed his calf, sending heat spiraling through him. “Sorry,” she murmured as she shifted.
The moment pulsed with a sensuality that left him breathless. Her scent. The candles. The music. Her touch. Her provocative comments.
“Please. Have some.”
He gave way to temptation and sampled what was in front of him. “Good chips and salsa.” Hot enough to keep him awake but not incendiary. He took a long pull of beer, relishing the cold bite of hops and foam against his tongue and throat. “Ahh, just the thing at the end of a move.”
“Why Colthersville?” she asked. Niall noticed her upper lip was slightly larger than her lower lip, giving her mouth a sensuous pout.
“I grew up a Navy brat. Sixteen different schools from kindergarten to high school. Of all the places we lived, I liked the south the best—the people, the weather, the food. Plus I spent my summers in a small town, Raeburn, with my grandparents. I knew from the time I was a kid, small-town life was for me. When I heard Dr. Schill was selling his practice, I went for it. Colthersville seems like a nice place to settle down and raise a family.”
Slightly embarrassed, Niall realized he’d just offered a long-winded soliloquy of his life. And that was probably more information than she wanted or needed. She was too easy to talk to. “What about you? You said you’d only lived here a couple of months?”
Tammy sipped her beer. White flecks of foam clung to her upper lip. She swiped her tongue along the full line of her mouth, devastating his concentration and composure. “My roots run deep in Colthersville. I was born and raised here. I only bought this house eight months ago. I’d been living with Pops after Earl and I split up.”
She spoke matter of factly about her divorce. Not that he wanted her crying in her beer, but she didn’t seem particularly brokenhearted or pissed or bitter—all very real emotions he’d seen in other divorced couples. He wasn’t brokenhearted and he wasn’t bitter, but he was pissed about his breakup with Mia. Maybe she’d worked through all of the above. “How long have you been divorced?”
She circled the rim of her mug with her fingertip. “Almost twenty-four hours.” She laughed at the surprise that must’ve shown on his face. “How about you? Well, not divorced but, ya know, splitsville?”
“Things were over a couple of months ago. I wanted to get married. She didn’t. I stayed in the house until it was time for me to move.”
She crumbled a chip into small pieces on her saucer. “That must’ve been a party.”
It had been damn awkward. “Luckily it was a big house and we tried to stay out of each other’s way.”
“Do you miss her?” Her soft question surprised him. No one had asked him that.
Denial sat on the tip of his tongue, driven by pride. But the sincere curiosity on Tammy’s face prompted him to say what he hadn’t faced before now. “Yeah, I guess I do. We were friends. At least we were ’til the end.”
“Maybe you’ll get back together.” She pushed her chin-length hair behind her ear.
“No.” That wasn’t pride talking, just surety. “There’s not a lot of middle ground when one person wants to get married and the other one doesn’t. Even that aside, it felt final when I left. It’s over.” For the first time he could say it without a bitter note.
She nodded,