slightly as he explained, “I couldn’t carry everything.”
Dangling from the pocket of his jeans was a thin black elastic strip that he hadn’t quite managed to shove inside with the rest of the belt. The weight of the hanging clasp caused the garter to sway with his movements, hypnotizing her. She closed her eyes, removing the temptation to linger over Nick’s physical attributes, which he made absolutely no attempt to hide.
His jeans weren’t actually tight, but they were low slung, a soft well-worn blue, hugging places she’drather not be caught staring at. His T-shirt could be described as a second skin, and she’d be lying to herself if she denied the instant physical attraction she felt for the man.
Ironically, the garter belt worried her more than the stockings. Never before had a man seen through her so easily. She wasn’t the kind of woman who had drawers of sexy lingerie with which she enticed her lovers. Without saying a word, Nick made it very clear that he wanted her and that he knew Midnight Mercy wasn’t the real Mercy Malone.
Expelling a heavy breath, she opened her eyes and said, “Damn you. Why can’t you be like other men?”
“Don’t tell me that men haven’t brought you gifts before?”
“Oh, sure.” She nodded. “Roses and chocolate. Occasionally Chinese take-out, but never stockings.”
“Did you ask them in?”
“No.”
“Are you gonna ask me in?” Nick bounced the pink ball once more, teasing the Lab.
“It’s either ask you in, or replace the screen when she charges through it to get that damn ball.”
“Then I’d have to say I’m glad I’m not like other men.”
“You are an original,” Mercy allowed as she flipped the screen-door latch and let go of the dog’s collar. Immediately, Witch bumped the door frame with her nose, squeezing through the opening. “If I were you, Nick, I’d throw that ball into the yard or prepare to lose your hand.”
Instantly, Nick complied, and Witch sailed off the porch, never touching the steps. For the momentMercy ignored Nick and watched the fluid motion of her dog as she ran for the rolling tennis ball. At first it looked as if she’d overrun the ball, but in the next second she turned and scooped up the fuzzy pink sphere. Without a wasted motion, she unerringly streaked toward Nick.
“She wants to play, and since you started it, you finish it. By the way, Witch normally won’t stop until you’ve thrown a ball twenty-five times or so. Have fun,” Mercy suggested as the dog spit the now soggy ball out on Nick’s leather running shoes.
Without a backward glance, Mercy headed for the kitchen. Witch’s impatient bark sounded behind her a split second before Nick laughed and said, “Go get it!”
Twenty minutes later she’d made iced tea, cleaned the kitchen, and Nick still hadn’t come inside. Giving up, she went back to the front door. Nick and Witch weren’t in the front yard. Puzzled, Mercy pushed opened the noisy screen and stepped out onto the large, old-fashioned porch.
“Over here,
chère
,” Nick instructed from her left.
He sat in her porch swing, slowly pushing it with one foot as he flicked his gaze over her from top to bottom. Even though only a small portion of stretch leggings extended beyond her oversized T-shirt, Nick still managed to find every curve with his piercing gaze. Since his hands were empty, Mercy could only guess the stockings were safely tucked in the pocket with the garter belt.
“Why are you still out here?” she asked.
“Witch and I were too worn-out to walk all the way across your yard to my car and get my tools.”
He didn’t look worn-out, but he did look a little sad, like someone who’d been examining old memories. Mercy glanced down at Witch, who lay by the railing, contentedly napping, her muzzle propped on top of the tennis ball. She asked, “What do you need tools for?”
“To fix that screen door. Your dog might be able to sleep through that awful
Dangling from the pocket of his jeans was a thin black elastic strip that he hadn’t quite managed to shove inside with the rest of the belt. The weight of the hanging clasp caused the garter to sway with his movements, hypnotizing her. She closed her eyes, removing the temptation to linger over Nick’s physical attributes, which he made absolutely no attempt to hide.
His jeans weren’t actually tight, but they were low slung, a soft well-worn blue, hugging places she’drather not be caught staring at. His T-shirt could be described as a second skin, and she’d be lying to herself if she denied the instant physical attraction she felt for the man.
Ironically, the garter belt worried her more than the stockings. Never before had a man seen through her so easily. She wasn’t the kind of woman who had drawers of sexy lingerie with which she enticed her lovers. Without saying a word, Nick made it very clear that he wanted her and that he knew Midnight Mercy wasn’t the real Mercy Malone.
Expelling a heavy breath, she opened her eyes and said, “Damn you. Why can’t you be like other men?”
“Don’t tell me that men haven’t brought you gifts before?”
“Oh, sure.” She nodded. “Roses and chocolate. Occasionally Chinese take-out, but never stockings.”
“Did you ask them in?”
“No.”
“Are you gonna ask me in?” Nick bounced the pink ball once more, teasing the Lab.
“It’s either ask you in, or replace the screen when she charges through it to get that damn ball.”
“Then I’d have to say I’m glad I’m not like other men.”
“You are an original,” Mercy allowed as she flipped the screen-door latch and let go of the dog’s collar. Immediately, Witch bumped the door frame with her nose, squeezing through the opening. “If I were you, Nick, I’d throw that ball into the yard or prepare to lose your hand.”
Instantly, Nick complied, and Witch sailed off the porch, never touching the steps. For the momentMercy ignored Nick and watched the fluid motion of her dog as she ran for the rolling tennis ball. At first it looked as if she’d overrun the ball, but in the next second she turned and scooped up the fuzzy pink sphere. Without a wasted motion, she unerringly streaked toward Nick.
“She wants to play, and since you started it, you finish it. By the way, Witch normally won’t stop until you’ve thrown a ball twenty-five times or so. Have fun,” Mercy suggested as the dog spit the now soggy ball out on Nick’s leather running shoes.
Without a backward glance, Mercy headed for the kitchen. Witch’s impatient bark sounded behind her a split second before Nick laughed and said, “Go get it!”
Twenty minutes later she’d made iced tea, cleaned the kitchen, and Nick still hadn’t come inside. Giving up, she went back to the front door. Nick and Witch weren’t in the front yard. Puzzled, Mercy pushed opened the noisy screen and stepped out onto the large, old-fashioned porch.
“Over here,
chère
,” Nick instructed from her left.
He sat in her porch swing, slowly pushing it with one foot as he flicked his gaze over her from top to bottom. Even though only a small portion of stretch leggings extended beyond her oversized T-shirt, Nick still managed to find every curve with his piercing gaze. Since his hands were empty, Mercy could only guess the stockings were safely tucked in the pocket with the garter belt.
“Why are you still out here?” she asked.
“Witch and I were too worn-out to walk all the way across your yard to my car and get my tools.”
He didn’t look worn-out, but he did look a little sad, like someone who’d been examining old memories. Mercy glanced down at Witch, who lay by the railing, contentedly napping, her muzzle propped on top of the tennis ball. She asked, “What do you need tools for?”
“To fix that screen door. Your dog might be able to sleep through that awful
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