Peppermint Creek Inn by Jan Springer

protective instincts of keeping harm away from Tom. If this man tried anything, she’d be on him faster than a she-wolf on a rabbit.
    Then she noticed the familiar smile edging up his full lips and aroused shock sifted through her system.
    “Oh, my God! Tom?”
    Drop-dead gorgeous. A young Mel Gibson look-alike.
    “Wow,” she heard herself saying, her insides suddenly trembling, her pussy creaming with heated arousal.
    Tom’s smile widened and she felt as if all her breath had stalled in her lungs.
    Without saying anything, he popped open the picket gate and stepped into the garden, strolling confidently up the center path.
    Sara leaned heavily on the shovel, her knees suddenly feeling weak as she watched him draw nearer. Heaven only knew she needed some sort of a crutch, because the crisp, clean smell of soap along with his erotic masculine scent slammed into her nostrils, making her quite aware of his maleness.
    His hot gaze raked over her body making intense urges erupt deep inside her abdomen.
    Oh, boy, she did not need this. She really didn’t. But he looked so good. Handsome and clean-shaven. The dreaded paleness from being sick had vanished, replaced by a robust healthy color that made the yellowish-blue bruises barely visible. He’d tied his long, feathery dark brown hair neatly behind his neck. The rest of his hair was tucked beneath an old baseball cap that had once belonged to Jack.
    “So? What do you think? Do I pass muster?” he asked huskily.
    “You look…different.” Heat flushed her face and it wasn’t from the sun. She allowed her appreciative gaze to drop from his handsome face to the light gray muscle T-shirt stretched taught over his broad shoulders and muscular chest, then down to the gorgeous hip-hugging jeans she’d washed.
    The shirt had belonged to her husband and Tom filled it out quite nicely indeed.
    Yes, very nice.
    Unconsciously Sara licked her dry lips.
    Her face blushed warmer as she gazed back into Tom’s prodding gaze. There was something shimmering in those green depths. Something hot, dangerous, sexy. Something erotic, aching to burst free.
    It was something she wanted.
    “I didn’t recognize you.”
    “Good. It’s my new master disguise. Amazing what a little bit of spit and polish won’t do. I hope you don’t mind about the hat?” He touched the beak of the hat. “But the sunshine’s a bit hard on the eyes after being inside for so long.”
    “That’s fine, but are you sure you should be up?”
    Maybe in a couple days. But not now. She wasn’t ready to fight off these wonderful erotic sensations coursing through her.
    “Actually I feel pretty good today. I put some of your peppermint antiseptic onto the bullet wound. And I figured I’d air out my hands. If that’s okay with the doctor.” He held up his hands to show her he’d taken off the bandages. The tiny sliver wounds were healing very nicely leaving only red spots behind.
    Sara found it hard not to sigh her relief that he was on the mend. “That’s fine. As long as you keep them clean.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” She noted the hint of humor in his voice as he saluted sharply and stood at attention.
    “At ease, soldier,” Sara quipped.
    Tom relaxed then said, “You hungry?”
    She nodded.
    “Great stuff. I’ve got everything ready. I’m going to take you on a picnic.”
    A picnic? A sudden sprig of tears bit the back of her eyelids and she cleared her suddenly tight throat. She’d gone on many picnics when Jack had been alive. Could she go on one with a complete stranger?
    He must have noticed her hesitation, because he shuffled his feet like a little kid as if he’d done something wrong and didn’t know what. “I hope it’s all right. I threw together a few things and found a basket in the pantry. I figured since it’s such a nice day and you’ve been working so hard in the garden—”
    “I’m not dressed properly,” she blurted out using the first excuse she could come up with. She