Chapter One
P ressure
gathered in Kurt McCord's chest as he fought for composure. He hated needing
anything, let alone help. "Damn it, Leigh, can't you just give us a
weekend? Marion needs help. I'll hump furniture all day long, fix whatever
needs fixed, but she's a wreck and I don't handle that stuff well."
"I
leave for Japan at the end of next week." Leigh's sultry voice went soft
as if she saw the futility of resistance. Her last gasp of denial.
Merciless,
he went in for the kill. "She cried, Leigh. Marion cried. I don't know
about you, but I never saw her cry about anything. It was over some photo
albums and that old movie projector of hers. I haven't seen that thing in
decades. I doubt it'll work anymore." He hadn't been able to do more than
give the old girl an awkward pat on the shoulder.
Females
in emotional pain made his gut twist. He hated feeling helpless and he never
understood what women in distress really needed. So he fixed things. Hauled
whatever needed hauling, and ate whatever they cooked for him. Marion was a good cook and had loved to feed him and all the other foster kids she'd
mothered. "Leigh, we owe her."
"Would
next month work?" Her voice, silken and sexy drew tight circles around his
chest. He lost the battle with his breath and let it out. Dragged in another.
He would win this.
He
would.
He
couldn't take another month of Marion's tears. Hearing Leigh's voice brought
back a whole lot of other stuff he thought was long over.
Things
like desire. Need. Want.
Yes,
he still wanted Leigh Douglas.
“Next
month's too late. She's got to take the place right away." Retirement
units in this building didn't come up often. "This one's a bottom floor
corner. She can keep her cat and patio furniture."
"She
can use her grill, too?"
Memories
of Marion's legendary backyard grilling parties skipped through his mind.
"Yes, she can even grill, too." He had her and they both knew it.
A
sexy sigh and then, "This thing in Japan is an interview for a promotion.
I can give you three days, no more." Her voice dripped capitulation. “I’ll
be there as soon as I can.”
The
crunch of tires on gravel brought Kurt's head up to listen. He swiped his cuff
across his forehead and leaned his axe against the woodpile at the side of his
house. Splitting logs for firewood was great for stress relief. Leigh's arrival
counted as stress. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair to clear his head
then headed for the front of the house. He ran a mental checklist as he
walked. Fridge was stocked. Guest room prepared. Wine was chilling. With any
luck, she would agree to eat with him before they headed to Marion's.
A
dark grey luxury sports car rolled to a stop by the rose bed he'd planted in
the middle of his circular drive.
Sound
fell away, his breath stalled while he watched one high heeled boot, then
another, descend to the ground. Butter-colored boots. No woman he knew wore
butter-colored boots. Not in this town.
A
blonde knot of hair appeared as she unfolded from the low slung seat. Leigh had
always been a beauty, but now, she had the profile of an angel.
He
catalogued every glorious inch of her, from the topknot of blonde waves to the
curve of her breasts to the flat plain of her belly. The car door hid her legs,
but he had them memorized. Long, strong, shaped just right, they rose from
perfect feet to thin ankles and thighs that led–
"Are
you going to say hello?" she asked, her voice sultry and hot as asphalt in
the sun. "Or will you stand and stare all day?" Her wide open
gut-busting grin hit him in the chest. Then she stepped away from the car and
walked into his arms like a long-lost sister.
Yeah,
that was it. As if he needed a reminder. She smelled of flowers and windswept
hair and Leigh. Not the little-girl Leigh he remembered, but a woman. Her curvy
body fit against his as she gave him a perfunctory buss on the cheek.
He
pulled his head back only to
P ressure
gathered in Kurt McCord's chest as he fought for composure. He hated needing
anything, let alone help. "Damn it, Leigh, can't you just give us a
weekend? Marion needs help. I'll hump furniture all day long, fix whatever
needs fixed, but she's a wreck and I don't handle that stuff well."
"I
leave for Japan at the end of next week." Leigh's sultry voice went soft
as if she saw the futility of resistance. Her last gasp of denial.
Merciless,
he went in for the kill. "She cried, Leigh. Marion cried. I don't know
about you, but I never saw her cry about anything. It was over some photo
albums and that old movie projector of hers. I haven't seen that thing in
decades. I doubt it'll work anymore." He hadn't been able to do more than
give the old girl an awkward pat on the shoulder.
Females
in emotional pain made his gut twist. He hated feeling helpless and he never
understood what women in distress really needed. So he fixed things. Hauled
whatever needed hauling, and ate whatever they cooked for him. Marion was a good cook and had loved to feed him and all the other foster kids she'd
mothered. "Leigh, we owe her."
"Would
next month work?" Her voice, silken and sexy drew tight circles around his
chest. He lost the battle with his breath and let it out. Dragged in another.
He would win this.
He
would.
He
couldn't take another month of Marion's tears. Hearing Leigh's voice brought
back a whole lot of other stuff he thought was long over.
Things
like desire. Need. Want.
Yes,
he still wanted Leigh Douglas.
“Next
month's too late. She's got to take the place right away." Retirement
units in this building didn't come up often. "This one's a bottom floor
corner. She can keep her cat and patio furniture."
"She
can use her grill, too?"
Memories
of Marion's legendary backyard grilling parties skipped through his mind.
"Yes, she can even grill, too." He had her and they both knew it.
A
sexy sigh and then, "This thing in Japan is an interview for a promotion.
I can give you three days, no more." Her voice dripped capitulation. “I’ll
be there as soon as I can.”
The
crunch of tires on gravel brought Kurt's head up to listen. He swiped his cuff
across his forehead and leaned his axe against the woodpile at the side of his
house. Splitting logs for firewood was great for stress relief. Leigh's arrival
counted as stress. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair to clear his head
then headed for the front of the house. He ran a mental checklist as he
walked. Fridge was stocked. Guest room prepared. Wine was chilling. With any
luck, she would agree to eat with him before they headed to Marion's.
A
dark grey luxury sports car rolled to a stop by the rose bed he'd planted in
the middle of his circular drive.
Sound
fell away, his breath stalled while he watched one high heeled boot, then
another, descend to the ground. Butter-colored boots. No woman he knew wore
butter-colored boots. Not in this town.
A
blonde knot of hair appeared as she unfolded from the low slung seat. Leigh had
always been a beauty, but now, she had the profile of an angel.
He
catalogued every glorious inch of her, from the topknot of blonde waves to the
curve of her breasts to the flat plain of her belly. The car door hid her legs,
but he had them memorized. Long, strong, shaped just right, they rose from
perfect feet to thin ankles and thighs that led–
"Are
you going to say hello?" she asked, her voice sultry and hot as asphalt in
the sun. "Or will you stand and stare all day?" Her wide open
gut-busting grin hit him in the chest. Then she stepped away from the car and
walked into his arms like a long-lost sister.
Yeah,
that was it. As if he needed a reminder. She smelled of flowers and windswept
hair and Leigh. Not the little-girl Leigh he remembered, but a woman. Her curvy
body fit against his as she gave him a perfunctory buss on the cheek.
He
pulled his head back only to
Similar Books
