neck and shoulders. For the second day in a row, the strategy failed.
Dressing with his usual Spartan efficiency, Joe donned khakis, a white shirt, navy boat shoes, and marched out of the room.
The kitchen stood empty.
He pulled a canister of chocolate fudge whey protein from his semblance of a pantry, added milk, and whizzed together two to-go shakes in his blender.
The door down the hallway creaked open. He traced her footsteps while scenting the flowery perfume they’d purchased last night. The normal cadence of her breathing hitched as she neared the kitchen. He couldn’t gauge her mood. The man-made fragrance smothered her natural aromas.
Joe spun around, braced his hip on the counter, and sighed in pure carnal pleasure.
How in heck could she make the cheap superstore suit seem like haute couture? She wore a short jacket and a slim skirt that did wonders for her long, muscled legs. The fabric was a startling shade of bright but dark blue, and the color brought out the porcelain quality of her olive skin. Joe grinned when his gaze dropped to the three-inch stilettos on her feet. The shoes had seemed ugly and clunky last night, but the sharp angle of the heel thrust her slim hips forward and gave a jaunty sway to her gait.
Talk about CFM shoes.
“Does this shout Walmart cheap?” She brushed the polyester-blend skirt.
“On anyone else it would. But on you it screams designer.”
“Really? You’re not just saying that?” She frowned.
“Really. You look fantastic. Don’t worry. You’ll get an extension for the test. The story of the fire is bound to have been on the morning news.”
“I’m not worried so much about the extension as I am how it’ll impact my timeline. I have everything planned to the minute for the next couple of years. I’m on an accelerated program for my master’s. Did course work online and so, I only have thirteen credits left to complete.”
“Why are you on an accelerated program?”
“I have a plan with a definite time goal, and I’m behind.” She checked the watch on her wrist and winced. “Hen’s feathers, it’s almost eight thirty.”
“Got everything?” Joe filed her answer for later exploration.
She carried both the denim purse and a folder they’d purchased the night before. “Yes.”
He snatched the truck’s keys from a fish-shaped hook, held out a tumbler to her, and, when she grasped the covered mug, picked up the other.
“What’s this?” She set down the folder to adjust the shoulder strap of her purse, and he realized how awkward it would be for her to manage the tumbler.
“Here, let me carry them both. Protein shakes. Chocolate. Breakfast to go.” Adjusting so he carried both the covered, sealed mugs and the keys in one hand, he set his palm against the small of her back.
The knots at his nape eased at the contact.
Damn.
He needed to touch her, better yet to carry her in his arms. The craving magnified the ache in his gut. He worked his jaw and reined in the caveman hankering.
The window in the laundry room showcased an overcast sky and the burned-out shell of Terri’s bungalow. The seven-foot fence that had once hidden the property had been totally destroyed.
She halted. “It all really happened, didn’t it?”
The sadness in her voice scoured a hole in his chest. He squeezed her shoulder. “Remember what I told you last night. Lean on me. No questions. No obligations.”
“Joe.” She half turned to him.
“Not now, Susie. Let’s get you to the university. Tonight we’ll talk. Deal?” He lifted her chin, and their gazes met.
Her nostrils quivered, but she nodded. “Deal. It’s kind of irritating—you being so darned logical all the time.”
“I know.” He nudged her forward.
A cool front must have swept in overnight. The temperature had to be below sixty. Susie shivered, and he draped an arm over her shoulder.
He eyed the truck, the high reach to the cab, and flattened the wide smile before it captured his mouth.
Dressing with his usual Spartan efficiency, Joe donned khakis, a white shirt, navy boat shoes, and marched out of the room.
The kitchen stood empty.
He pulled a canister of chocolate fudge whey protein from his semblance of a pantry, added milk, and whizzed together two to-go shakes in his blender.
The door down the hallway creaked open. He traced her footsteps while scenting the flowery perfume they’d purchased last night. The normal cadence of her breathing hitched as she neared the kitchen. He couldn’t gauge her mood. The man-made fragrance smothered her natural aromas.
Joe spun around, braced his hip on the counter, and sighed in pure carnal pleasure.
How in heck could she make the cheap superstore suit seem like haute couture? She wore a short jacket and a slim skirt that did wonders for her long, muscled legs. The fabric was a startling shade of bright but dark blue, and the color brought out the porcelain quality of her olive skin. Joe grinned when his gaze dropped to the three-inch stilettos on her feet. The shoes had seemed ugly and clunky last night, but the sharp angle of the heel thrust her slim hips forward and gave a jaunty sway to her gait.
Talk about CFM shoes.
“Does this shout Walmart cheap?” She brushed the polyester-blend skirt.
“On anyone else it would. But on you it screams designer.”
“Really? You’re not just saying that?” She frowned.
“Really. You look fantastic. Don’t worry. You’ll get an extension for the test. The story of the fire is bound to have been on the morning news.”
“I’m not worried so much about the extension as I am how it’ll impact my timeline. I have everything planned to the minute for the next couple of years. I’m on an accelerated program for my master’s. Did course work online and so, I only have thirteen credits left to complete.”
“Why are you on an accelerated program?”
“I have a plan with a definite time goal, and I’m behind.” She checked the watch on her wrist and winced. “Hen’s feathers, it’s almost eight thirty.”
“Got everything?” Joe filed her answer for later exploration.
She carried both the denim purse and a folder they’d purchased the night before. “Yes.”
He snatched the truck’s keys from a fish-shaped hook, held out a tumbler to her, and, when she grasped the covered mug, picked up the other.
“What’s this?” She set down the folder to adjust the shoulder strap of her purse, and he realized how awkward it would be for her to manage the tumbler.
“Here, let me carry them both. Protein shakes. Chocolate. Breakfast to go.” Adjusting so he carried both the covered, sealed mugs and the keys in one hand, he set his palm against the small of her back.
The knots at his nape eased at the contact.
Damn.
He needed to touch her, better yet to carry her in his arms. The craving magnified the ache in his gut. He worked his jaw and reined in the caveman hankering.
The window in the laundry room showcased an overcast sky and the burned-out shell of Terri’s bungalow. The seven-foot fence that had once hidden the property had been totally destroyed.
She halted. “It all really happened, didn’t it?”
The sadness in her voice scoured a hole in his chest. He squeezed her shoulder. “Remember what I told you last night. Lean on me. No questions. No obligations.”
“Joe.” She half turned to him.
“Not now, Susie. Let’s get you to the university. Tonight we’ll talk. Deal?” He lifted her chin, and their gazes met.
Her nostrils quivered, but she nodded. “Deal. It’s kind of irritating—you being so darned logical all the time.”
“I know.” He nudged her forward.
A cool front must have swept in overnight. The temperature had to be below sixty. Susie shivered, and he draped an arm over her shoulder.
He eyed the truck, the high reach to the cab, and flattened the wide smile before it captured his mouth.
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