one swift movement, Victoria reached around him, the soft cotton of his T-shirt slipping against her palms. Beneath the fabric, his muscles bunched, sending her mind down a path that went way beyond kissing.
And then, Noah pulled back, released her chin with a final reverent slide of his fingers and moved away. As if he’d flicked a switch, everything within him seemed to turn to concrete, going gray and cold. “I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened.”
“It’s okay,” she said, but not feeling okay at all. She’d thought he’d enjoyed their kiss as much as she had, but then he’d jerked away, and apologized? She may have been kissed before but she had so little dating experience that she wasn’t sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing…or something else altogether.
Like she was about as desirable as a damp dish towel.
“I don’t normally go around kissing women I’ve just met,” he said.
“And I don’t normally go around kissing the boarders. Temporary or not.” She grinned, trying to make light of the moment. To not let on that her dating experience consisted of a few stolen kisses during clambakes on the beach with the boy who used to live next door.
“We’ll forget the whole thing happened.”
“Yeah, sure,” she said. Liar, liar, lips on fire. If she lived to be two hundred, she wouldn’t forget one second of that kiss.
The phone rang, interrupting the moment of tension still simmering between them. Victoria answered it, then gave the receiver to Noah. “Larry.”
“Thanks.” He took the phone, listened, uttered a few words, then hung up. “You were right. Larry can’t get to the truck until tomorrow. Said he needs to order a radiator, since he didn’t have one for an ’82 in stock. Looks like it’s going to be a couple days before I hit the road again.” He flicked out his wrist, glanced at his watch. “I should probably get going, find a motel.”
“Stay here. No pressure, no lease.” She grinned.
“I’d hate to impose…”
“And I’d hate to see you scouring the neighborhood, looking for a motel that was open after the close of beach season.”
Noah looked down at Charlie, who had curled into a ball beside a very clean and very empty plate on the small rug in front of the sink. He was busy worrying away at one of the bones he’d brought along. “Seems Charlie is already settled in.”
“I think the leftover roast swayed him.”
Noah watched the dog for a long moment, then his green eyes met hers. “Okay. I’ll take you up on the offer of temporary lodging. I’ll be glad to pay you whatever you want. Or, if you don’t want me around—” at this, his gaze strayed to her lips, and the heat stirred within her all over again “—and I’ll understand if you don’t, I’ll call a cab and head over to a motel.”
“And disturb Charlie?” She smiled. “I don’t think he’d like you much if you take him from his spot. Or the possibility of whatever’s lurking in the fridge.” Her gaze went to Noah’s. “Stay. No charge.”
But even as she said the words, she realized she’d just opened a can of worms for herself. When Victoria had gone out on her porch earlier that day, it had been to take down the sign, not hang it up.
Allowing Noah McCarty to stay here was doing the exact opposite of what she planned. One day could easily turn into two, or three. And before she knew it, she’d end up staying, too.
Although if staying here meant being kissed like that again, the idea didn’t seem like such a bad one.
There was a bird knocking at Victoria’s door. A tall, bright orange bird.
Noah had stepped down the hall, to grab his bag that he’d left by the door and settle in—no, not settle in, just get unpacked enough for the night—when the plumed thing started rapping on the oval of beveled glass.
Whether it was Big Bird himself, Noah didn’t care. The interruption came at the perfect time. He could have cut the tension between Victoria and him with a chain saw. Half of him wanted to kiss her again—the half that didn’t think with a brain—while the other half wanted to run like hell and hitchhike to Maine. She’d busied herself with straightening a floral arrangement that didn’t need straightening, which only made Noah feel worse.
What was that line he’d given her? “I don’t normally do that?” Where had he gotten that? Boy, he needed a man tune-up, because he sure had no idea how to be one, at least not one with any finesse.
Victoria scooted past him, a look of relief on her face. She was probably happy to see someone on her doorstep, someone who wouldn’t kiss her and then fumble the whole thing like a rookie quarterback.
“Oh, it’s Mrs. Witherspoon,” Victoria said, peering through the glass. “She’s undoubtedly got a crisis.” She turned to Noah. “How are you with tools? Plungers and the like?”
Tools? Plungers? “I thought that was your specialty,” he said, grinning.
“I can fix a faucet, but Mrs. Witherspoon’s projects require brawn.”
“I take it that’s where I come in.”
“Hey, a guy next door can be a handy thing.”
He wouldn’t be the guy next door for long, not even for twenty-four hours. Even if the majority of his brain wanted to stay right here, in this house, and kiss Victoria again.
And again. And again. Until everything that had followed him from Rhode Island began to recede, leaving his mind free and clear.
“You wouldn’t believe the fixes Mrs. Witherspoon gets herself into,” Victoria said just before opening the door, revealing a tall woman wearing a hat with a swirl of brightly colored feathers and ribbons surrounding the brim. “Hello, Mrs. Witherspoon.”
“Why, hello, Victoria. I wondered if you might have a—” She cut off her words, her jaw dropping when she caught sight of Noah standing in the hall. She made no secret of looking him up, then down. “Oh, my. A man.”
Noah knew right then how a side of beef felt.
“This is Noah McCarty, my…” Victoria glanced over her shoulder at him, searching for a word. “Guest.”
That seemed as good a word as any, Noah figured. Although, guests didn’t kiss the hostess. Guests were smart enough to eat the pie instead of thinking about devouring her lips.
Well, if that were true, then where had that kiss come from? Definitely out of left field. He’d merely been sideswiped by dinner, swept up into a moment he’d never intended.
Obviously Charlie hadn’t been the only one overwhelmed by the roast beef.
“Mrs. Witherspoon,” Victoria prompted, “did you come by for something?”
“Oh, yes. I did indeed. I’m putting in a greenhouse and I need to knock down a wall.” She put a finger to her chin. “Maybe two. Can I borrow a sledgehammer?”
“Did
