Package Deal by Chris Chegri

never tee-peed anyone?”
    “Never.” She struggled to control her amusement. “You’re right though. There’s a definite resemblance.”
    He glanced over at the concrete partition behind them. “I think you’re better at high jumping than fishing.”
    “I can’t argue.” Her face burned with embarrassment, but she was smiling.
    She reeled in as much tangled line as she could then cut the rest free. “God, I hope no one was watching.” She collapsed into giggles and wiped tears from her eyes.
      Steve gestured around them with a wide sweep of his arms. “Are you kidding? Everyone was watching!” He gave her an affectionate glance.
    She smiled back, unable to resist. Steve McCarthy was fun.   He made her feel sixteen again.
    She picked at the line caught in her hair. “Wow. What a mess.”
    “It’s not so bad. Nothing every good fisherman hasn’t done before.” He reached up and gently plucked several strands free. “Hold still before you hang yourself,” he ordered playfully.
    Kelly grinned inside and out but remained motionless, her breath rising in her throat whenever Steve’s fingers brushed her face and neck.
    “Done,” he announced, dropping a wad of nylon line into the tackle box.
    “It’s a good thing we weren’t depending on me for the dinner menu.” She exhaled, her body tingling with a crazy mix of relief and desire for more of his touch.
    A uniformed officer appeared at the top of the bridge and motioned the cars to move again. Kelly and Steve sobered and scurried to clean up the jumble of fishing line. They had bundled the rods, and gathered the tackle box before the first car moved off the bridge. Scaling the partition, they jumped into the Jeep just as the car in front of them lurched forward.
    “Talk about timing,” Kelly gasped, catching her breath.
    “Nice jumping, Pearson. I thought you might panic, but you performed like a champ.”
    Positive strokes had been few and far between in her life with Ken, and a rush of pleasure rippled through her.
    “Thanks. You weren’t so bad yourself.” She leaned back against the seat, years of tension erased in thirty minutes. She hadn’t been this relaxed with a man in years.

Chapter Eight

     

     
    O nce across the bridge, Steve took the river road, which meandered alongside the lazy Halifax River. They followed the water for several miles, looking for Cabana Court on their right. Kelly saw it first.
    Steve took a right, and they traveled another block and a half until they spotted the For Rent sign outside the house.
    “This one doesn’t look bad from the outside,” Kelly remarked. “The yard is pretty.”
    The outside of the house appeared well maintained. A typical cinder block construction, the house boasted a fresh coat of light gray paint with bright white shutters and a dark blue front door. Colorful flowerbeds of yellow lantana , lavender periwinkles, and brilliant orange origami-like flowers on a bird of paradise plant surrounded an oval of thick green grass and green succulents . Two palms shaded the front corner of the lot, and a low hedge of red bougainvillea sprawled around one corner of the house, draping the garage in vibrant color.
    Kelly’s face flushed with joy. “I love it already!”
    “It looks too good to be true,” Steve warned. “Don’t forget, you can’t judge a book by its cover. Let’s go in before you sign the lease."
    First impressions weren’t good. Once inside, Kelly sobered. The former tenants had moved out quickly, leaving the place scattered with papers and overstuffed trash bags.
    “The owner is a friend of Jerry’s. The renters moved out yesterday. I doubt the guy expected anyone to see it yet. At least not until he’d had a chance to get it ready to show anyway.”
    Steve lifted several trash bags and peered under them. “Carpet doesn’t look dirty,” he said. “There are even visible vacuum marks.”
    Kelly nodded and moved down the hallway and peeked into the rooms. “The