summer vacation.
“I haven’t done a puzzle in ages,” he said, standing. His smile was back, and some of the weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. He held a hand out to her.
She took it and let him help her off the sofa. His grip was strong and warm. She swayed toward him as she started toward the cabinet in the corner. Intentionally or not, he bumped her as they both tried to go in the same direction at the same time.
“Careful,” he said, more like that restless tiger purring than anything else. His hand slid to her waist.
The resolve not to flirt she’d been determined to build up shifted like sand beneath her feet. He smelled just as good when he hadn’t been out in the heat and the sun as when he did. Whether it was some sort of cologne or his soap or if he just smelled that delicious and spicy all the time, Tasha wasn’t sure, but part of her wanted to find out. A particular part of her.
He let her walk in front of him toward the game cabinet. She was tempted to ask him to go first, and then to ask him to reach for something on the bottom shelf so she could get a good look at his assets when he bent over. It struck her that there were other ways they could occupy their time and provide an outlet for all Spence’s cooped up energy besides puzzles. Ways that involved going upstairs. Or maybe the sofa. A table? She may have been a dorky teacher, but some men liked that.
She nearly gasped as reality hit her. What if Spence wasn’t restless because of the photographer? What if he was hot for her and she was just too dumb to see and put him out of his misery? Was that why he’d opted to hang around her instead of finding something movie star-ish to do on his own?
They reached the cabinet and she opened the doors as prickles of possibility raced up and down her arms. She twisted to check on him. He smiled at her—friendly, but ripe with tension. What if?
No, she couldn’t keep letting her thoughts skip down the path of insanity like that. They’d met just over a week ago. They didn’t really know each other. He was a star and she was Miss Pike, wrangler of eight-year-olds. He was built like an action hero, and she had the body of a thirty-year-old woman with a token gym membership whose card was gathering dust somewhere. There was only so much dreaming a girl could get away with before she turned into a little Monica.
“Two hundred and fifty pieces, five hundred, or a thousand?” she asked as they perused the puzzles on the middle shelf. It was probably a good idea that the puzzle boxes weren’t in bending-over range after all.
“Let’s go for broke and do the thousand piece,” Spence said. At least a little enthusiasm was back in his voice.
“Lighthouse or spring meadow?” she asked, reaching for the two largest boxes.
“Lighthouse seems more appropriate, don’t you think?”
“Lighthouse it is.”
They set up the puzzle on the formal dining room table. Rain continued to beat against the windows along with the roar of the waves. The world outside was gray and forbidding, but inside the house, Tasha’s dream house, life was about as cozy as could be. That in itself was unbelievable. No, surreal was a better word.
“Do you look at the box when you do puzzles or do you try to do it without looking?” he asked, holding the puzzle box once the pieces had all been dumped on the table.
“Hmm.” Doing it without looking. Images of Spence blindfolded and tied to her delicate Victorian headboard upstairs rushed to Tasha’s mind. Not exactly helpful when she was trying to decrease the amount of restless energy in the house instead of raise the tension through the roof. “We’d better keep the picture where we can see it.”
Spence nodded and set the box up on the formal sideboard, then came back to the table to help her sort through the pieces with a tense frown.
She decided to face his problem head-on. It was better than trying to deal with her errant thoughts. “It can’t be as
“I haven’t done a puzzle in ages,” he said, standing. His smile was back, and some of the weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. He held a hand out to her.
She took it and let him help her off the sofa. His grip was strong and warm. She swayed toward him as she started toward the cabinet in the corner. Intentionally or not, he bumped her as they both tried to go in the same direction at the same time.
“Careful,” he said, more like that restless tiger purring than anything else. His hand slid to her waist.
The resolve not to flirt she’d been determined to build up shifted like sand beneath her feet. He smelled just as good when he hadn’t been out in the heat and the sun as when he did. Whether it was some sort of cologne or his soap or if he just smelled that delicious and spicy all the time, Tasha wasn’t sure, but part of her wanted to find out. A particular part of her.
He let her walk in front of him toward the game cabinet. She was tempted to ask him to go first, and then to ask him to reach for something on the bottom shelf so she could get a good look at his assets when he bent over. It struck her that there were other ways they could occupy their time and provide an outlet for all Spence’s cooped up energy besides puzzles. Ways that involved going upstairs. Or maybe the sofa. A table? She may have been a dorky teacher, but some men liked that.
She nearly gasped as reality hit her. What if Spence wasn’t restless because of the photographer? What if he was hot for her and she was just too dumb to see and put him out of his misery? Was that why he’d opted to hang around her instead of finding something movie star-ish to do on his own?
They reached the cabinet and she opened the doors as prickles of possibility raced up and down her arms. She twisted to check on him. He smiled at her—friendly, but ripe with tension. What if?
No, she couldn’t keep letting her thoughts skip down the path of insanity like that. They’d met just over a week ago. They didn’t really know each other. He was a star and she was Miss Pike, wrangler of eight-year-olds. He was built like an action hero, and she had the body of a thirty-year-old woman with a token gym membership whose card was gathering dust somewhere. There was only so much dreaming a girl could get away with before she turned into a little Monica.
“Two hundred and fifty pieces, five hundred, or a thousand?” she asked as they perused the puzzles on the middle shelf. It was probably a good idea that the puzzle boxes weren’t in bending-over range after all.
“Let’s go for broke and do the thousand piece,” Spence said. At least a little enthusiasm was back in his voice.
“Lighthouse or spring meadow?” she asked, reaching for the two largest boxes.
“Lighthouse seems more appropriate, don’t you think?”
“Lighthouse it is.”
They set up the puzzle on the formal dining room table. Rain continued to beat against the windows along with the roar of the waves. The world outside was gray and forbidding, but inside the house, Tasha’s dream house, life was about as cozy as could be. That in itself was unbelievable. No, surreal was a better word.
“Do you look at the box when you do puzzles or do you try to do it without looking?” he asked, holding the puzzle box once the pieces had all been dumped on the table.
“Hmm.” Doing it without looking. Images of Spence blindfolded and tied to her delicate Victorian headboard upstairs rushed to Tasha’s mind. Not exactly helpful when she was trying to decrease the amount of restless energy in the house instead of raise the tension through the roof. “We’d better keep the picture where we can see it.”
Spence nodded and set the box up on the formal sideboard, then came back to the table to help her sort through the pieces with a tense frown.
She decided to face his problem head-on. It was better than trying to deal with her errant thoughts. “It can’t be as
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