Home-Grown Husband. Sharon Swan
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she recognized in hindsight, too full of youthful ideals and boundless expectations of eternal bliss, to take a step back and consider the wisdom of leaping into a lifetime commitment. Too inexperienced in the ways of the world to know that love alone couldn’t conquer all, that two people had to find some common ground, share an understanding of the path they wanted to take in life, one that satisfied them both, before they could share a happy future.
Now she was older, and hopefully wiser.
Not that being married to Roger had been terrible. No, that wasn’t true at all. It just hadn’t been terribly good after the first year. The only really wonderful thing to come out of it was their daughter, Ali.
“So a lover is what’s needed,” Sally summed up matter-of-factly.
“Maybe,” Tess’s sense of honesty had her conceding. She’d been without a man in her life for three years, and her body was increasingly reminding her of that fact. “I can hardly haul one off the street, though—provided there was anything interesting walking around out there to begin with.”
Sally lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “What about Mr. Mysterious, your new next-door neighbor?”
Tess leaned back in a far-from-new bentwood chair. Despite its age, the faded flowered padding provided a comfortably cozy cushion for her body. Given the choice, she knew she’d take comfort over style any day, even with an unlimited bank account to draw on. That was strictly her preference. The most stylish furniture on the market wouldn’t have won a second glance from her, not if it didn’t look comfortable.
And even more important than comfort was contentment. To her, it was vital. Rather than taking her good fortune for granted, she routinely thanked her lucky stars that she was content, both with who she was as a person and with the life she’d chosen—even if it might be lacking in one particular area. Then again, having a man around wasn’t everything, she reminded herself, although she had to admit to some current curiosity when it came to a certain member of the male species.
“He’s mysterious, all right,” she said, cocking a light brown eyebrow. “It’s been almost a week since he moved in, and I’ve barely glimpsed him pulling in and out of his garage.”
“Well, sometimes you can tell a lot about people by what they drive.” Sally tapped a crimson-tipped finger on the glass-topped table. “Is it a sports car—something sleek, sizzling scarlet, and sexy as sin?”
Tess smiled. “Sorry to shatter that little fantasy, but it’s a fairly late model SUV, probably of the four-wheel-drive variety, and it seems to be black under all the dust.”
“So he’s not rich,” Sally concluded, “though not poor by any means, given the money they want for those all-terrain numbers, and he’s probably been too busy lately to wash it.”
“Or he’s been waiting for the wife and six kids to show up and do the job for him,” Tess tacked on dryly.
Sally finished her coffee and set her mug down. “Uh-uh. No wife and kiddies. Leslie Hanson told me when I ran into her at the supermarket yesterday that a ‘single gentleman’ had rented the house her great-aunt left her. A short-term lease, she said.” A sly grin appeared. “And it just so happens that your darling child will be gone all summer, visiting her grandparents. I’d say that’s fate, Tess.”
“Yeah, right.” Tess made a face. “He could easily wind up being the stuff women’s nightmares are made of, complete with sweaty palms and a bobbing Adam’s apple.”
“Or he could turn out to be your dream man,” Sally countered as she got to her feet. Today her lush figure was shown to advantage by a navy halter top and walking shorts.
“I don’t have a dream man,” Tess said firmly, rising. Her yellow T-shirt and ancient jeans outlined a slender body that was, she knew, far from lush. She was content with that, as well. Most of the time, at any rate. She just had to stay away from Victoria’s Secret catalogs. “What I have is a daughter I love more than anything in the world, a job I’m crazy about, and definite plans for a good, solid future.”
“Which is absolutely great, and I’m delighted for you. But all of that still won’t provide what a full-grown female needs, at least on occasion, in the middle of the night.” Sally rinsed her mug out in the sink and leaned against the ivory-tile counter. “A lover, on the other hand—”
“Okay, Sal, I get your drift.”
“Then give it some consideration,” said the mother of cheerfully rowdy, seven-year-old twin boys who was happily wed to a hunk of a husband she blatantly adored—and who clearly returned the favor. “There’s no reason to do without certain pleasures when you don’t have to. So think about it.”
Tess thought about it after Sally left, mulling over her friend’s advice as she stared out a curtained kitchen window into the brilliant sunshine so much a part of long summers in the Southwest. Certainly, she had plenty of time to think in the middle of a quiet Saturday morning with Ali away. Too quiet, it seemed, without the sound of well-used running shoes thumping up and down the stairs.
Not that there weren’t things to do, she reminded herself. The ever-present laundry, for instance. Vacuuming and dusting, too. Or, in the real-challenge category, she could try to coax the plump cat regally tolerating her presence in her own house into unbending enough to share a companionable hour tending the flowers in the backyard.
But she didn’t, she had to admit, feel like tackling even the simplest of those chores. Not today.
Today she felt…restless.
Her body craved something it had done too long without. She couldn’t deny that any more than she could magically turn the brown cap of natural curls framing her face into long, straight tresses.
So how did she satisfy that craving? With a willing man, was the obvious answer.
Not a husband, though.
She truly didn’t want marriage, not now. But she did want…intimacy, she supposed she could say. More than sex, certainly. Sex had never sent up any skyrockets, not for her. But the closeness that came with it, being held in the grip of strong arms.
Yes, that she couldn’t help wanting.
Tess sighed, soft and low. Maybe—just maybe, she thought—it was time to take a lover.
THE LAST THING HE NEEDED was a woman in his life, Jordan Trask told himself. Right now, it was the very last thing. Even thinking along those lines was a mistake.
Too bad that didn’t stop him from recalling the special comforts only the opposite sex could supply—something that had been happening more and more and with greater interest, it seemed, since he’d given up a job that, in a perfect world, would never have to be done.
Too bad the world wasn’t perfect. And too bad he was having a difficult time deciding how to deal with the future stretching out in front of him like a unmarked road to an unknown place, full of twists and turns. At the moment, that journey held a lot more questions than answers.
Then again, he was lucky, he reminded himself. Damn lucky. He’d gotten out while he could still smile with genuine humor, still laugh on occasion for the sheer pleasure of it. His former profession sometimes destroyed the ability to do both, but he’d survived intact.
He could still feel, really feel, thank God.
And, whether it was wise or not to get involved with a woman at this point, what he felt now was need—the need to touch some silky, smooth skin covering gentle curves, the need to be touched, as well. He was a healthy male in his mid-thirties, after all.
So he had needs. Whether he wanted them or not at this particular time, he had them.
A soft whine drew Jordan’s eyes across the width of a homey kitchen to a thick oak door, its upper half etched with squares of sparkling glass topped by a length of ruffled, blue-checked fabric. That the back door led to a spacious, grassy yard continued to be somewhat of a wonder.
Renting