luscious pink lips parted, no doubt to ask him how he expected her to take the screen out again, should the need arise. His heartbeat doubled as he remembered that moments ago he’d wanted to kiss her. Remembered that he’d pretty much wanted that from the first moment he set foot in her foyer for the suitcase exchange. But he’d never wanted it more than right now.
Alex swallowed. “If you ever want to remove the screen for any reason,” he answered her unasked question, “you can always loosen the nuts…with the wrench.”
She smiled. “Makes sense to me,” she said, and dashed down the stairs.
“Good. Something around here oughta make sense,” he said when she was out of earshot.
Barney paraded into the room just then, tail twitching left and right as he eyed the open window.
Alex narrowed his eyes and shot him a warning look. “Don’t even think about it, buddy.”
The cat shot him a look that said, “The name’s Barney, buddy.” Then, purring, he twined a figure eight around Alex’s ankles.
Crouching, Alex patted the cat’s head. When he noticed the gouges on the back of his hand, he was reminded of the crisscrossing scratches on his face. “I have a feeling I’ll be thinking of you when I shave tomorrow morning,” he said. “When I shave for the next week.”
He’d be thinking of Barney’s mistress, too. Probably for a whole lot longer than a week. The thought almost made him wish he hadn’t decided to keep a safe distance from this churchgoing little woman.
Taylor burst into the room just then, carrying a pink metal toolbox. “Don’t laugh,” she said, plunking it down on the hardwood floor. “I bought it at a yard sale couple years back. Only cost me fifty cents, but it was all dirty and rusty, and the only spray paint on sale at Clark’s Hardware that day was—” she extended both hands, like one of the models who present the prizes on a game show “—pink!”
It just so happened she was wearing a pink blouse. And pink fingernail polish. The excitement of Barney’s adventure had colored her cheeks a pretty shade of pink, and those luscious lips of hers, well, they were pink, too. Alex had a notion to tell her pink was her color. Instead, he opened the toolbox and poked around inside until he found an adjustable crescent wrench.
As he was busy tightening the screen’s wing nuts, he heard her clear her throat. She was near enough to touch. Again. Right there beside his left elbow. If he turned, just slightly, he could slide an arm around her waist, ease her to him and—
“So, did you enjoy the brunch?” she asked.
Alex had to blink to get his brain back on track. Oh. Right. The brunch. Well, yes, he supposed he’d enjoyed it well enough. At least, he’d enjoyed every moment he’d spent with her…. “Food was good,” he said, hoping to sound noncommittal. But that was all he intended to admit.
She laughed. “The ladies of Resurrection outdo themselves every time there’s an event.” Then, “Did you know there’s going to be another next Wednesday?”
She hesitated, and he knew she intended to invite him to it.
Knew, just as well, that he had every reason to say no.
For one thing, what did they have in common? And even if he could find something the two of them could share, he had way too many “issues” left over from the accident. Wouldn’t be fair to haul her through that mess.
Crouching, Alex put the wrench back into the toolbox and fastened its lid. On his feet again, he decided to tell her that he’d sworn off church. Sworn off everything—and everyone—connected to it. She needed to hear that, because he had a feeling she put the D in devout. Besides, he liked his women tall and lithe and blond and blue-eyed, right? Wouldn’t be fair to mislead her, not in any way. And he had to find a way to get the words out before she asked him to be her guest.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to come,” she asked, as if on cue, “as my guest?”
Sunlight glinted from her hair. Hair he wanted to touch, to find out if it felt as soft, as silky as it looked. And there, in the bright light, it was impossible not to notice the pale freckles that dotted her nose, that sprinkled across her ivory cheeks. He wanted to touch those, too. Each and every one of them…with gentle kisses.
Watch it, he warned himself, this one isn’t like the others, not in any way. And that meant trouble. Reminding himself he had neither the time nor the inclination for romance, Alex straightened, squared his shoulders, lifted his chin a notch. Tell her no, was the thought pinging in his head. Say, Sorry, but I have stuff to do that night.
Hands deep in his pockets, he glanced at slightly parted, kissable pink lips, looked into her eyes. Into her big, long-lashed, brownish-greenish-golden eyes and said, “Only if they’re serving potato salad.”
Chapter Three
Until he’d looked up and seen her there on the roof, Alex had never seen much farther than the end of his own nose. Especially when it came to the needs of others. Especially since the accident.
Oh, he’d done the typical favors for friends and acquaintances, like helping them move from apartments into homes when he wasn’t on assignment, letting them use his pickup when he was. Once, when he was stationed in Florida, his next-door neighbor won a trip to the Bahamas. It was Alex who, twice a day, let himself into her apartment to feed her cat. While living in California, he watered a neighbor’s roses rather than see the elderly gent’s rose club registration fee—and the work he’d put into the roses to that point—go to waste.
He’d never minded doing the favors. Hadn’t felt imposed upon by the neighbors who’d asked them of him. But suddenly there was a nagging question in his mind, one Alex doubted he would have asked himself if he hadn’t met Taylor.
Would he have volunteered his help if that help hadn’t been requested?
He was ashamed to admit the answer was no.
Wouldn’t have been hard to admit if the answer had been the result of a hectic schedule. Truth was, he’d simply never thought to offer. And what kind of person did that make him?
Not the kind who deserved a woman like Taylor Griffith….
He shifted uncomfortably in his easy chair, remote control in hand. As the colorful, musical images of TV chefs and sports figures and rumpled detectives whizzed by on the screen, Alex scowled. Shouldn’t have agreed to that date, he grumbled inwardly. Only thing you have in common with that woman is…
As he gave it a moment’s thought, his thumb relaxed on the up button. A home shopping host held up a glittering half-carat diamond. The glint and glow of the stone reminded him of Taylor, each spark, each glimmer illuminating yet another facet of her character. The longer he knew her, the more she seemed to shine.
Compared to her, he felt like a chunk of wet chalk.
Somehow, that didn’t seem to matter. Whether or not they had anything in common made no difference, either. He liked her. Had, the instant he set eyes on her in that overcrowded plane, liked her more still when they made the suitcase exchange in the tiny foyer of her house. The church brunch, her tender loving care after the cat rescue…every minute in her company was incentive enough to want
