Home-Grown Husband. Sharon Swan
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arousing.
Or it would have been, if something hadn’t prompted him to slit an eye open. He quickly discovered that Tess Cameron was nowhere in sight. But he was indeed being licked.
By a dog.
“What the hell!” Jordan shot straight up in the brass double bed, sending the white sheet tumbling to his waist. He wore nothing beneath it, preferring bare skin to bunched pajamas when it came to nightwear. And as far as morning wake-up kisses were concerned, he’d take sweet, human female over damp canine any day.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he grumbled, frowning down at his new pet. A pet still lacking a name, he reminded himself. Not that he hadn’t given it his best shot. He had. But nothing seemed to fit.
The dog, looking totally unrepentant, calmly returned his master’s gaze, wet tongue lolling to one side and black eyes gleaming in the dim early sunlight slanting through the sheer blue bedroom curtains.
“It might be easier to get my point across if I had a clue what to call you.” Jordan punched up a pillow and leaned back against it. “Maybe I should leave the whole thing up to you.”
A soft pant began at that statement, appearing to agree.
He shrugged. “Okay, let’s give it a try. How does Spot strike you?”
No reaction at all, not this time.
“No dice, huh? How about Rover? Lad? Sparky?”
Nothing.
“Buster? Rex? Fang?”
Zip.
He lifted a hand and ran it through his sleep-mussed hair. “You’d better not be too picky, pal. I may reach the end of my rope, and you’ll wind up with a name as plain as Smith or Jones.”
A sudden lively bark split the early-morning quiet and sent Jordan’s brows climbing. “Are you telling me you want to be called something like Jones?”
A second bark and some fast tail wagging gave him his answer. “All right, who am I to argue the point? If Jones works for you—it’s Jones.” Jordan flicked the sheet aside, rose and headed for the bathroom off the upstairs hallway.
At the sound of yet another eager bark, he tossed a glance over his shoulder and found the dog now eyeing the warm spot on the bed he’d just left. “Don’t even think about it, Jones.”
Sighing, Jones dropped his chin to the sea-toned carpet and placed his head on his paws.
Jordan’s mouth curved in a satisfied smile. “I see we now understand each other.”
But what he didn’t understand, he had to admit as he stood under the shower’s pulsing spray and soaped himself down, was why he’d had that dream. Sex had something to do with it, of course. Without the dog getting into the act, who knew where that fantasy would have ended. Maybe with two naked bodies stretched out on the grass in the middle of that garden.
Yeah, his libido was involved, all right. But he doubted it was only his libido. Other aspects of the dream had been too strong. What he’d wanted went beyond a willing woman, an anonymous face with a soft-skinned body.
No, he’d wanted one woman in particular.
And he’d best stay away from her until he decided where to go from here. If, that was, he decided to do anything beyond aiming a friendly wave over the fence for the rest of the summer. Logic told him he should do exactly that and concentrate on the gaping hole in his future. Too bad certain parts of him weren’t feeling especially logical.
Then again, the woman in question might choose to toss no more than an occasional wave his way. Jordan frowned as it occurred to him that his neighbor might already have a man in her life, given the fact that she’d been a widow for a few years. For some reason, that thought didn’t sit well, but there it was. It would be foolish to go off half-cocked before he got a better handle on the whole thing.
So, taking everything into account, he was a lot better off staying away from Tess Cameron, at least for the time being. With that conclusion, Jordan stepped from the shower and reached for a fluffy blue towel. He tried not to dwell on the fact that it all but matched the shade of the eyes belonging to the vision in his dream, tried not to imagine how her touch might feel as he rubbed his body dry.
Tried…and failed.
“SO THEN WHAT HAPPENED?”
“He jumped back over the fence. And maybe straight out of my life.”
Sally, once again seated at the breakfast table in her friend’s kitchen, lifted a brow right along with her coffee mug. “Does that mean you haven’t laid eyes on him since?”
“Not exactly. I saw him on Sunday morning nailing up some plywood boards where his dog managed to get through.” Tess leaned back in her chair. “He, ah, didn’t have a shirt on.”
“Oh, my.” Sally blew out a breath and began to fan herself with one hand. “Judging by what you’ve already told me, that must have been quite a sight.”
With the vivid memory of a hair-darkened chest still firmly etched in her mind, Tess could hardly disagree. “It was.” She took a hefty sip of coffee. “Then, that afternoon, he mowed the lawn—still minus a shirt and this time wearing denim cutoffs instead of jeans.”
Fanning faster, Sally said, “And the lower half was as impressive as the upper, right?”
“Right.” So impressive, Tess thought, that she’d been hard-pressed not to pant at the whole picture as she watched Jordan Trask through the kitchen window. His obvious effort to master the mysteries of the old-fashioned gas mower hadn’t dimmed the impact one watt, even before he’d solved the puzzle and proceeded to get the job done.
Sally stopped fanning. “And you didn’t find something—anything—to do outside so you could talk to him again?”
“No.”
“Why?”
A good question, Tess had to concede. It would have been nice to have a clear answer. As it was, she shrugged. “Maybe I just wasn’t ready for another chat.” Or maybe, after getting an eye-widening look at that body, I felt even more foolish for so much as considering the possibility of an affair with a man who’d draw drop-dead-gorgeous women like a magnet.
Sally’s sudden smile was sly. “Do I detect the patter of cold feet?”
“No, you do not,” Tess replied briskly. “If I’d wanted to strike up a conversation with Jordan Trask last Sunday, I would have damn well done it.”
“And how about the rest of the week?”
Tess smiled her own smug smile. “I only caught glimpses of him coming and going in his car, so there was no chance to talk to him.”
“But if he takes you up on that invitation and stops by this weekend,” Sally countered, “there’ll be no reason not to chat up a storm.”
Tess set down her empty mug and aimed for a breezy tone. “Sure, if he shows up on my doorstep, I’ll be my usual friendly, neighborly self.”
But it wouldn’t surprise her if the man in question never showed up. And if he chose not to, she would be content with that decision, Tess told herself.
Except maybe in the middle of the night, an inner voice tacked on, and she knew it had a point.
At midnight, when she’d already found her mind wandering to the moonlit house next door, contentment might be hard to come by. Hard, but not impossible.
“As intriguing as this subject is,” Sally said with a soft sigh, “I’d better head home soon. Ben’s probably close to done with the yard work by now and then we have to start setting up tables for the barbecue tonight.”
Tess brightened at the reminder that for the coming evening at least, she’d have plenty to occupy