mind my leaving some of these things in an out-of-the-way place, just so I wouldn’t have to haul them back and forth.”
“Oh, sure, no problem.”
“Thanks.” Carrying some of his things, Tag approached the doorway.
Linda watched him coming toward her and felt his presence so acutely that it took her breath. No man had ever affected her in quite this way, not even the man she had married. Maybe especially not the man she had married. That had been such a dreadful mistake.
Tag stopped in front of her. This woman intrigued him like no other. He had never believed in love at first sight, and he couldn’t say it was happening to him now. But something was. Something was stirring his blood and causing images of lovemaking to overwhelm everything else in his brain.
Linda looked into his eyes for a moment, felt a feverish intensity that seemed like a warning bell, broke eye contact and stepped aside for his passage.
Without a word—or a grin—Tag went on by her and out the front door.
When he was outside, Linda sucked in a huge breath of air. “My Lord,” she whispered, wondering how a decent woman dealt with such mind-bending chemistry and kept her reputation intact. It was as though a cloud of unmanageable hormones had descended upon her apartment the second she opened her door for Tag.
Tag made another trip from the kitchen to his truck with his gear, then came back in with a tape measure.
“Show me the places you’d like to have a bookshelf,” he said.
Forcing her soaring imagination back to earth, Linda led him to the available wall space in the living room. She pointed, he measured and wrote in his spiral, then he said, “I should probably ask how many books you need to shelve.”
“You saw all those boxes in that upstairs closet, and you probably know that each tenant also has a small storage room at the front of an assigned carport parking space. Well, mine is full of books. In boxes, of course.” At his cocked eyebrow, she declared with her hands out, “What can I say? I love books.”
“In that case you’re probably going to need some shelves upstairs. If memory serves, there’s wall space in both your bedroom and studio.”
“Yes, you’re right.” She walked to the stairs.
Tag watched the way her body moved as she ascended in front of him. He was only halfway up when he told himself to cool down or the fit of his jeans would embarrass both of them.
They went to the studio first and Linda realized that she was reluctant to put anything in this room but her many art supplies. She had covered the carpet under the easel with a large piece of tightly woven outdoor carpeting, as she disliked working on plastic, canvas tarps were too cumbersome and she didn’t want to have to worry about dripping paint while she was concentrating on a creation.
“You’re a considerate tenant,” Tag said with a nod toward the easel area.
“It’s something I would do in my own home if I had to work on carpet, so why wouldn’t I do it in a rented place? The perfect floor for an artist is concrete. Someday that’s what I’ll have.”
Tag smiled. “So you can splash paint every which way?”
“Something like that. Tag, I’m going to skip this room for now. If I absolutely have to, I’ll put bookshelves in here, but I’d rather not.” She smiled. “I wouldn’t like my books spattered with paint any more than I would the carpeting.”
Tag loved her smile, even though it made his legs feel a bit wobbly. Did she know how beautiful and sexy she was? Or the kind of power a woman like her wielded over a man?
He cleared his throat. “Okay, fine, let’s check out your bedroom.”
They found two adequate areas of wall space that would nicely accommodate bookcases. After measuring and making notes, Tag shoved his spiral into his shirt pocket.
“I think that does it,” he said.
“Yes,” Linda murmured huskily, wondering why on earth she would feel giddy, awkward and almost tongue-tied just because there was a bed in the room with them. Had she ever enjoyed sex? Never! Then why keep thinking about it now? I must be losing my mind!
She hurried from the bedroom and felt Tag behind her every step of the way.
“Don’t forget to come by my place tomorrow,” Tag told her at the front door. “You won’t have any trouble finding it.”
“Uh, right. What time would you like me?”
I’d like you in the morning, in the afternoon and all night long. “If you come in the afternoon you could stay for dinner and experience one of my famous barbecued burgers.”
“Stay for dinner?” Linda nervously bit down on her lower lip.
“I think you’ll like Samantha,” Tag said in a casual tone of voice.
Linda relaxed considerably. When he said dinner, she had immediately envisioned a cozy dinner for two. But his little girl would be there, and he certainly wasn’t going to try anything in front of her.
“Yes, all right,” she said. “Want me to bring anything? A salad maybe?”
“Just bring yourself.” Tag reached out and gently moved a straying tendril of her long hair from her cheek. “See you tomorrow,” he said quietly.
Then he was gone. Almost starry-eyed, Linda closed the door and made sure it was locked. Tag Kingsley was pure dynamite.
But maybe it was time she walked through a minefield.
Something had changed. The apartment seemed cramped. Linda felt edgy and disconnected, a form of angst that she couldn’t recall having endured before, and she’d been so sure that she had suffered it all before her move to Rumor. Apparently not. Apparently liking a guy on such short acquaintance, and then facing and even enjoying fantasylike thoughts of a physical nature—because of him—delivered its own brand of emotional conflict.
Linda tried to elevate her mood by reminding herself how dismal her love life—if one could even call her one experience with an uncaring member of the opposite sex a love life—had always been. It didn’t seem to do much good; she was still full of sighs when she was in her nightgown and ready for bed around ten that night.
The downstairs lights were off and only a bedside lamp still burned. Linda pushed back the sliding glass door and stepped out onto her tiny balcony. The night air was fresh and smelled wonderful. She went back inside, switched off the lamp, got out the shawl she often used on nights like this and draped it over her shoulders. She then returned to the balcony to sit in the dark. Tippy lay at her feet, as relaxed as any dog could be, while his mistress looked at the stars.
The Montana sky at night still amazed Linda. There were no clouds blocking the view, and the sky seemed alive with twinkling starlight. Rumor was like another world, she thought, not for the first time. She had always lived with city lights, sirens and the sound of heavy traffic. Here there was barely a sound. A car started somewhere, maybe down the street at another apartment complex, and far off in the distance a dog barked. It was all so serene, so lovely. It was also dark enough
