bimbo.”
Embarrassed, she wandered over to the window and peeked through a narrow gap in the beige curtains, stepping back when she heard the sound of footsteps. A few minutes later the steps faded and she felt safe enough to open the drapes.
Tearing her gaze away from the window, she started when a soft breeze tickled her hair. The electricity must be on. She walked into the compact kitchen and turned on the faucet. Water flowed from the tap. Good. At least she had electricity and water. If nothing else, she’d be able to cook and take a hot shower. Without warning, thought of the green-eyed man standing naked while water cascaded over him filled her mind. She shook her head and tore her thoughts away from lascivious images of her new neighbor.
Humming softly, she reached into the refrigerator and turned the thermostat to a lower setting. Groceries could wait until tomorrow or the next day, when the fridge would be cold. Feeling drained, Emily took one last glance around the empty apartment, closed the drapes, then locked the door.
Back in the parking lot, she avoided speaking to the men still unloading furniture. She lifted a hand in farewell, then hurried to her Jeep. A car pulled into the space in front of her, so she had to back out. She’d almost navigated all the obstacles when a loud whump echoed behind her. Cursing her ineptness, she glanced at the rearview mirror.
Oh no. Instead of backing around the man’s trailer, she’d plowed right into the middle of it. The two men stood nearby, pointing at the kink in what used to be a straight side rail. Emily unhooked her seatbelt and stepped out. Glen crooked his index finger, motioning for her to join them. An unfriendly scowl replaced his engaging smile.
Utterly embarrassed, Emily struggled to keep a straight face. If the man hadn’t thought she was a moron before, her lousy driving probably convinced him that she didn’t have one single brain cell between her ears.
“Oh well,” she thought as her mind quickly blotted out erotic images of the two of them intertwined on a bed. “I really didn’t want a sex life anyway.”
Chapter Six
The delivery van arrived promptly at nine o’clock the next morning. Emily waited for them to finish offloading her new living room set. As they moved toward their truck, she approached them about payment to unload her stuff from El Cajon. The movers were not the most clean cut men she ever met, with their tattoos and chipped teeth, but she knew from recent experience with her ex-husband that good looks could be deceptive. Besides, it was these guys’ muscles she needed, not their appearance.
The two men agreed, and some forty minutes later, they wheeled in the last of her belongings. Emily waved them off and then surveyed the sea of boxes littering her apartment. She decided to tackle the kitchen first and dug into the task of unpacking the cartons with an enthusiasm she hadn’t felt since her accident. Box after box disappeared as she folded, sorted, and put away canned goods, pots, and pans. By the time she finished unpacking the bedroom containers, the muscles in her back felt tight and sore.
Grimacing from the twinges in her back, legs, and arms, she stretched. When that didn’t help, she closed the drapes, padded into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. Tendrils of steam clouded the mirror as she stripped out of her clothes and stepped into the steady stream of water.
The pulses of hot water that spewed from the massaging showerhead eased the stiffness in her muscles. By the time she finished washing her hair, the lethargy threatening to overwhelm her vanished. As she pulled her arms through the fuzzy sleeves of her robe, she heard a series of knocks.
“Coming,” she called, tightening the belt around her robe. A quick glance through the peephole revealed a striking blonde waving a large wine bottle. Emily unlocked the deadbolt and peered around the door. “Can I help you?” she asked,
Embarrassed, she wandered over to the window and peeked through a narrow gap in the beige curtains, stepping back when she heard the sound of footsteps. A few minutes later the steps faded and she felt safe enough to open the drapes.
Tearing her gaze away from the window, she started when a soft breeze tickled her hair. The electricity must be on. She walked into the compact kitchen and turned on the faucet. Water flowed from the tap. Good. At least she had electricity and water. If nothing else, she’d be able to cook and take a hot shower. Without warning, thought of the green-eyed man standing naked while water cascaded over him filled her mind. She shook her head and tore her thoughts away from lascivious images of her new neighbor.
Humming softly, she reached into the refrigerator and turned the thermostat to a lower setting. Groceries could wait until tomorrow or the next day, when the fridge would be cold. Feeling drained, Emily took one last glance around the empty apartment, closed the drapes, then locked the door.
Back in the parking lot, she avoided speaking to the men still unloading furniture. She lifted a hand in farewell, then hurried to her Jeep. A car pulled into the space in front of her, so she had to back out. She’d almost navigated all the obstacles when a loud whump echoed behind her. Cursing her ineptness, she glanced at the rearview mirror.
Oh no. Instead of backing around the man’s trailer, she’d plowed right into the middle of it. The two men stood nearby, pointing at the kink in what used to be a straight side rail. Emily unhooked her seatbelt and stepped out. Glen crooked his index finger, motioning for her to join them. An unfriendly scowl replaced his engaging smile.
Utterly embarrassed, Emily struggled to keep a straight face. If the man hadn’t thought she was a moron before, her lousy driving probably convinced him that she didn’t have one single brain cell between her ears.
“Oh well,” she thought as her mind quickly blotted out erotic images of the two of them intertwined on a bed. “I really didn’t want a sex life anyway.”
Chapter Six
The delivery van arrived promptly at nine o’clock the next morning. Emily waited for them to finish offloading her new living room set. As they moved toward their truck, she approached them about payment to unload her stuff from El Cajon. The movers were not the most clean cut men she ever met, with their tattoos and chipped teeth, but she knew from recent experience with her ex-husband that good looks could be deceptive. Besides, it was these guys’ muscles she needed, not their appearance.
The two men agreed, and some forty minutes later, they wheeled in the last of her belongings. Emily waved them off and then surveyed the sea of boxes littering her apartment. She decided to tackle the kitchen first and dug into the task of unpacking the cartons with an enthusiasm she hadn’t felt since her accident. Box after box disappeared as she folded, sorted, and put away canned goods, pots, and pans. By the time she finished unpacking the bedroom containers, the muscles in her back felt tight and sore.
Grimacing from the twinges in her back, legs, and arms, she stretched. When that didn’t help, she closed the drapes, padded into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. Tendrils of steam clouded the mirror as she stripped out of her clothes and stepped into the steady stream of water.
The pulses of hot water that spewed from the massaging showerhead eased the stiffness in her muscles. By the time she finished washing her hair, the lethargy threatening to overwhelm her vanished. As she pulled her arms through the fuzzy sleeves of her robe, she heard a series of knocks.
“Coming,” she called, tightening the belt around her robe. A quick glance through the peephole revealed a striking blonde waving a large wine bottle. Emily unlocked the deadbolt and peered around the door. “Can I help you?” she asked,
Similar Books
