Chapter One
“Please, please, please, don’t let me be too late,” Tarney Jensen whispered.
Work had been manic, filled with over eager customers, tight deadlines, and little old ladies who thought her graphic design business provided a free counseling service. The only thing that pulled her through the loco moments had been the excitement of the upcoming night. After weeks of missing out, she deserved the next forty-five to sixty minutes.
With her free hand, she shoved open the front door, darted outside, and rushed for the solitary chair at the end of her porch. She placed her goodies on the small table and released a lung-relaxing sigh. Woot! She wasn’t late. With a smile on her face, she settled into the darkness and went through her checklist to make sure nothing had been missed.
Alcoholic beverage—check.
Cheese and crackers—check.
Pretense of sitting outside by herself to enjoy the peace and quiet—check.
The only thing missing was the entertainment—Ethan Reid—but she expected him any minute now.
On cue, the light in her neighbor’s side room lit up. Ding, ding, ding—winner.
The bright, orange glow made her squint, but it didn’t stop her from watching with intent while he played with his stereo, the heavy beat of music soon blaring from the speakers. The song selections never changed. He began with Guns N’ Roses and moved into Def Leppard. If he wanted to be a real hard ass, he would throw in a bit of AC/DC. Not that she had to mark off reasons for adoring her Friday night indulgence, but she did love his old school taste in music.
She shifted her lawn chair, placing it at the perfect angle, needing to maintain a constant view without appearing like the Peeping Tom she most definitely was. If anyone noticed her in the dark, it would seem as though her focus was on the street…the completely lifeless street, instead of dreamily staring into her neighbor’s room.
Glancing around the neighborhood, she prayed no one could see her from the hidden position in the shadows. Even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. She was merely enjoying Friday night drinks. Alone on her porch. In utter darkness. They didn’t know she had the best view in the city. They didn’t know that their polite, graphic designer neighbor was really a Peeping Tom. And hopefully they never would.
A contented sigh broke the silence as Tarney watched Ethan move around his house. Damn, he was fine. No, not just fine, ripped-to-Greek-god-perfection fine. Not an ounce of fat on that delectable body. She loved the molded planes of his chest, his hard, toned thighs, and his muscled arms, which all fit together in a package of warm tanned skin.
Her girlie bits already tingled, practically pulsating, wanting to high-five her with enthusiasm. Time between sessions had been too long. All she needed was a few more minutes of visual man candy and the wait would be worth it.
As Ethan started his usual warm up exercises, Tarney opened the bottle of wine—thankful for the silent screw top—and poured a glass. She sipped, savoring the sweet flavor on her tongue while she imagined tasting something else entirely.
“Oh, hell yeah. Bend over just a little more, honey.”
He dropped out of her view to do his floor routine. No worries, as soon as he stood back up she would be rewarded with more decadent flesh. Each time he finished his warm-up, he made the heavens sing by removing his shirt. And holy hell, after having a dry spell because of Ethan’s work roster, he not only made the heavens sing with his partial nudity, but her whole body too.
He moved on to the door frame and the bar he used for pull-ups. Tarney moaned into her wineglass, already anticipating the flex and contract of muscles.
“Work it, baby. Work it till it hurts so good.”She kept her voice lowered, but grinned at the husky tone. Damn, she had it bad.
All that sweaty, rippling flesh. All that tight, tanned skin. She wanted to reach out and touch. She
“Please, please, please, don’t let me be too late,” Tarney Jensen whispered.
Work had been manic, filled with over eager customers, tight deadlines, and little old ladies who thought her graphic design business provided a free counseling service. The only thing that pulled her through the loco moments had been the excitement of the upcoming night. After weeks of missing out, she deserved the next forty-five to sixty minutes.
With her free hand, she shoved open the front door, darted outside, and rushed for the solitary chair at the end of her porch. She placed her goodies on the small table and released a lung-relaxing sigh. Woot! She wasn’t late. With a smile on her face, she settled into the darkness and went through her checklist to make sure nothing had been missed.
Alcoholic beverage—check.
Cheese and crackers—check.
Pretense of sitting outside by herself to enjoy the peace and quiet—check.
The only thing missing was the entertainment—Ethan Reid—but she expected him any minute now.
On cue, the light in her neighbor’s side room lit up. Ding, ding, ding—winner.
The bright, orange glow made her squint, but it didn’t stop her from watching with intent while he played with his stereo, the heavy beat of music soon blaring from the speakers. The song selections never changed. He began with Guns N’ Roses and moved into Def Leppard. If he wanted to be a real hard ass, he would throw in a bit of AC/DC. Not that she had to mark off reasons for adoring her Friday night indulgence, but she did love his old school taste in music.
She shifted her lawn chair, placing it at the perfect angle, needing to maintain a constant view without appearing like the Peeping Tom she most definitely was. If anyone noticed her in the dark, it would seem as though her focus was on the street…the completely lifeless street, instead of dreamily staring into her neighbor’s room.
Glancing around the neighborhood, she prayed no one could see her from the hidden position in the shadows. Even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. She was merely enjoying Friday night drinks. Alone on her porch. In utter darkness. They didn’t know she had the best view in the city. They didn’t know that their polite, graphic designer neighbor was really a Peeping Tom. And hopefully they never would.
A contented sigh broke the silence as Tarney watched Ethan move around his house. Damn, he was fine. No, not just fine, ripped-to-Greek-god-perfection fine. Not an ounce of fat on that delectable body. She loved the molded planes of his chest, his hard, toned thighs, and his muscled arms, which all fit together in a package of warm tanned skin.
Her girlie bits already tingled, practically pulsating, wanting to high-five her with enthusiasm. Time between sessions had been too long. All she needed was a few more minutes of visual man candy and the wait would be worth it.
As Ethan started his usual warm up exercises, Tarney opened the bottle of wine—thankful for the silent screw top—and poured a glass. She sipped, savoring the sweet flavor on her tongue while she imagined tasting something else entirely.
“Oh, hell yeah. Bend over just a little more, honey.”
He dropped out of her view to do his floor routine. No worries, as soon as he stood back up she would be rewarded with more decadent flesh. Each time he finished his warm-up, he made the heavens sing by removing his shirt. And holy hell, after having a dry spell because of Ethan’s work roster, he not only made the heavens sing with his partial nudity, but her whole body too.
He moved on to the door frame and the bar he used for pull-ups. Tarney moaned into her wineglass, already anticipating the flex and contract of muscles.
“Work it, baby. Work it till it hurts so good.”She kept her voice lowered, but grinned at the husky tone. Damn, she had it bad.
All that sweaty, rippling flesh. All that tight, tanned skin. She wanted to reach out and touch. She
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