Driven To Distraction: Driven To Distraction / Winging It. Candy Halliday
about that,” she said, though he should have been the one apologizing and she should have been much less charitable toward the man who’d been peeking through her hedge. She ducked down to the level of the hole, and he forgot about everything but how cute her face looked framed in shiny green leaves. “You must be the supersmart scientist dude who’s working on some important study on frogs. I’m Stacy Jenkins.”
And even more amazingly, she slid her hand through the hole. It took him a moment to realize she wanted to shake his hand. He’d been too busy noticing the elegant lines of her fingers and the spots of bright pink on her short nails.
He took her hand in his and returned her firm handshake. Her hand was soft and warm, and a sensual feeling slithered through his body. What came out of his mouth was, “Tree snails.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m tree snails.” He blinked. Get a handle on yourself, man. You’ve met attractive women before and had the wherewithal to introduce yourself properly. “I mean, you said frogs, but I’m studying tree snails.” The feel of her hand in his, plus the awkwardness of the whole situation, made him lose his train of thought. This never happened. “I’m Barrett Wheeler. I want to apologize for—”
“Peeking through the bushes at me?” she offered cheerily, extricating her hand and ducking to peer through the hole. “Gene does it all the time.”
“He does?”
“Just to be neighborly, to say hi.”
He couldn’t help notice the hint of cleavage showing above a tank top that hugged small, firm breasts and thought, Fat chance he was just being neighborly. Since he wasn’t exactly in a position to comment, however, he let it drop. “So Frankie and George were also dogs?”
She glanced at Buddy, who was whining but still holding his position. He had a fresh string of drool hanging from his lips. “Oh, sure. I work with the problem dogs at the Humane Society. We’re a no-kill shelter, which means we work extra hard to fix the reasons the animals got put up for adoption. I bring them home for half a day or overnight sometimes and teach them manners.” She tilted her head at him. “What did you think they were?” An expression of horror crossed her face. “George, Frankie, Buddy…you thought I was entertaining men, didn’t you?” Just when he was hoping for spontaneous combustion again, she laughed. Not the demure, quiet kind of laugh the women he socialized with had, either. Stacy’s laugh was an explosion of sound. In fact, she doubled over and braced her palms on her thighs. “If you only knew how preposterous that thought was!”
Barrett thought he felt a warm flush creep up his face, though he was sure he was mistaken. He never blushed. “Not that it’s any of my business, of course, and my intention wasn’t to eavesdrop—”
That laugh of hers vibrated through him. “Too funny!” But her laughter and the delightful smile that lit up her whole face faded. “And too sad, when I think how long it’s been since—” Buddy nudged her behind, sending her into the bushes. She caught her balance, and Barrett caught a whiff of strawberry. “Well, I try to teach them manners, anyway,” she said.
How long since what, and why was the thought of her entertaining men preposterous? There was that curiosity again. He was probably better off not knowing. “Is that what you do for a living? Teach manners to dogs?”
“Not for a living, no. I’m just volunteering at the shelter until I get a real job.” She glanced at her watch. “In fact, I’m waiting for a callback on a job any time now, hopefully with good news.”
“Aren’t you a bit young to live in here?” he asked through the hole.
“My granny raised me here. I was grandfathered in on the sixty-five and older rule—well, grandmothered in, if you want to be technical. When I graduated from high school, I wanted to go to college, live on campus and everything. But the more I talked about it, the weaker Granny’s heart got, so I didn’t go. When she passed on two years ago, I was going to sell the house and move, but everyone asked me to stay. They’re all like family to me, so I did. I’m a surrogate granddaughter to a lot of them. And no one else is brave enough to lead the workout classes at the community center.”
“Workout class?”
“A combination of aerobics and light weight work.” She gestured with her arms as though she were lifting weights. She had great biceps, just enough muscle to still look feminine. “Keeps the bones strong.”
“So you stayed.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Well, it’s not like I had anyplace else to go.”
He gave her a smile. She smiled back, and their gazes locked. His stomach started feeling rather odd, as though he’d forgotten to eat. He sometimes did that when he was immersed in his research, but he was fairly certain he’d eaten a bowl of Cap’n Crunch cereal that morning. Maybe if he ceased looking at those eyes of hers, the feeling would go away.
He shifted his gaze down a couple of inches. That’s when he noticed what a great mouth she had, small but lush, coated in a clear pink color. The funny feeling wasn’t going away, it was intensifying. He went back to her eyes, a rich brown color that reminded him of the chocolate syrup he mixed in his milk. None of this looking was helping the strange feeling in his stomach. Still, he couldn’t seem to break away or find something, no matter how inane, to say.
Buddy helped by giving her another nudge, sending her forward again. She let out a yelp, and Barrett held out his hands even though he couldn’t do much good on the other side of the hedge. He got another whiff of that fruity scent before she regained her balance and made Buddy sit again. That gave Barrett another glimpse of that pink spandex, and though he’d never been fond of the color pink, he was reconsidering.
Buddy approached the hedge again, and Barrett backed away.
“Are you afraid of dogs?” she asked.
“What makes you think that?”
“Just how you were asking me to get Buddy away from you in a desperate sort of way.”
“Oh. Not afraid, more like…uncomfortable.”
“Have you ever had a dog before?”
“No.”
“That explains it. They’re really great to have around.” She nodded toward Buddy, sending a lock of brown hair to brush against her nose. She swiped it away. “You want one?”
“No.” His quick answer took her aback, so he added, “Not today.”
“Well, guess I’ll let you get back to your work. Welcome to the neighborhood. If you need anything, just come on over.”
“I will, thanks,” he said, wondering what he might need and then deciding not to delve too far in that direction.
Still, they remained there for another moment or two, until she smiled and said, “See you.”
“I see you, too.”
“No, I mean, see you around.”
“I knew that.” He knew that. So why was this woman skewing his logic?
“Okay,” she said with slightly widened eyes. “See you—I mean, goodbye.”
And then she was gone, playing hide-and-seek around her orange and grapefruit trees with the horse dog. Okay, that was over. Now he could focus on his work and not be distracted by his next-door-neighbor who was not a floozy. Right?
Wrong. Twenty minutes later, he was still distracted by her. Still thinking about those pink shorts and her small but lush mouth. He didn’t have to imagine her voice or her laugh. She was working with Buddy, pleading, cajoling, praising.
“Sit! Good boy.” This in a honey-coated voice that sent that strange feeling spiraling through his insides again. “Down. Good boy! Smile. All right!”
Smile? Before he could ponder