could she say? She couldn’t complain. There were more than half a dozen friends all over the country who never refused her request to store some stuff for her. And she probably could use the clothes.
“Iz?”
“I’m good. Thanks,” she said with false brightness. “You’ve done me a huge favor!”
Emily was looking at her with suspicious eyes. Izzy made her mouth stretch wider into a big smile. Her relaxing respite was over, but her best friend didn’t need to know that. Izzy didn’t want anyone to know how much it dismayed her to think of her belongings catching up with her—especially at Owen’s.
Chapter Five
O wen was enticed down one flight of stairs by the smell of some kind of simmering sauce that had to include tomato, onion, garlic and basil. Two days had passed since Will and Emily’s visit, and he was damn tired of the four walls of the master bedroom suite. He’d started watching medical programs on the Discovery Channel, and the odd conditions highlighted by some of the shows were starting to seriously disturb him.
He found his wife in a corner of the living room, her back turned to the staircase as she bent over a couple of cardboard boxes. Her position tightened her khaki pants across her backside and Owen smiledto himself. Yeah. Way better view than what was available upstairs.
Settling on the last step, he gave himself a few minutes to indulge in a purely masculine occupation—appreciating the physical charms of a beautiful woman. He wasn’t going to feel guilty about it, either. For God’s sake, he was a guy after all, a bored one at that, and it wasn’t a crime that Isabella Cavaletti’s sex appeal could spark a pleasant smolder in the center of his libido.
He might be down, but he wasn’t dead.
Two days ago her attractions had been stretching his nerves thin, but since that visit from their respective best friends, Izzy had been more businesslike. Instead of her cheerful chatter, she’d turned quiet and polite—downright preoccupied.
He’d decided against prying into her change of disposition. It was no concern of his.
So he could just sit on the step and ogle the outside of her appealing package and leave her inside alone. His gaze followed the line of her spine as she went from bent over to cross-legged on the floor beside the boxes. She reached inside one and pulled out a hardback book. Her shiny black hair swung forward on each side, the split revealing a patch of smooth skin at the nape of her neck.
The spot looked soft and vulnerable and was perfectly sized for a man’s mouth. He let his mind wander to the idea, his hand rubbing the stubble onhis jaw. If he were smooth shaven, he might place a kiss there, as his hands slid down her sides to her slim hips. She would be warm and pliant as he drew her back against his body, crossing his arms over her flat belly so that rounded butt of hers was tucked against his hips.
As she sensed his erection just layers of denim and cotton behind her, she’d push back, giving her hips a little wiggle while making a sound that was supposed to be a moan, but was much closer to a sob…
A sound that was supposed to be a moan but was much closer to a sob?
Where the hell had that come from? But then he knew, because he heard it again—Izzy’s shoulders trembled and she let out another quiet, choked-off sob.
“Izzy?” he said, without thinking. “Is everything okay?”
She whipped around, and that’s when he realized maybe he should have thought first. Maybe he should have thought to take himself back upstairs and leave her to whatever was on her mind. He wasn’t supposed to be concerned with the inside of her package even though it was fairly obvious that from the spiky-lashed and tear-drenched chocolate of her eyes, Izzy wasn’t too happy.
“How did you get down here?” she asked.
“One stair at a time,” he admitted. “On my ass.”
“Owen!” she started to scold, then, apparently realizing there were tears on
“Iz?”
“I’m good. Thanks,” she said with false brightness. “You’ve done me a huge favor!”
Emily was looking at her with suspicious eyes. Izzy made her mouth stretch wider into a big smile. Her relaxing respite was over, but her best friend didn’t need to know that. Izzy didn’t want anyone to know how much it dismayed her to think of her belongings catching up with her—especially at Owen’s.
Chapter Five
O wen was enticed down one flight of stairs by the smell of some kind of simmering sauce that had to include tomato, onion, garlic and basil. Two days had passed since Will and Emily’s visit, and he was damn tired of the four walls of the master bedroom suite. He’d started watching medical programs on the Discovery Channel, and the odd conditions highlighted by some of the shows were starting to seriously disturb him.
He found his wife in a corner of the living room, her back turned to the staircase as she bent over a couple of cardboard boxes. Her position tightened her khaki pants across her backside and Owen smiledto himself. Yeah. Way better view than what was available upstairs.
Settling on the last step, he gave himself a few minutes to indulge in a purely masculine occupation—appreciating the physical charms of a beautiful woman. He wasn’t going to feel guilty about it, either. For God’s sake, he was a guy after all, a bored one at that, and it wasn’t a crime that Isabella Cavaletti’s sex appeal could spark a pleasant smolder in the center of his libido.
He might be down, but he wasn’t dead.
Two days ago her attractions had been stretching his nerves thin, but since that visit from their respective best friends, Izzy had been more businesslike. Instead of her cheerful chatter, she’d turned quiet and polite—downright preoccupied.
He’d decided against prying into her change of disposition. It was no concern of his.
So he could just sit on the step and ogle the outside of her appealing package and leave her inside alone. His gaze followed the line of her spine as she went from bent over to cross-legged on the floor beside the boxes. She reached inside one and pulled out a hardback book. Her shiny black hair swung forward on each side, the split revealing a patch of smooth skin at the nape of her neck.
The spot looked soft and vulnerable and was perfectly sized for a man’s mouth. He let his mind wander to the idea, his hand rubbing the stubble onhis jaw. If he were smooth shaven, he might place a kiss there, as his hands slid down her sides to her slim hips. She would be warm and pliant as he drew her back against his body, crossing his arms over her flat belly so that rounded butt of hers was tucked against his hips.
As she sensed his erection just layers of denim and cotton behind her, she’d push back, giving her hips a little wiggle while making a sound that was supposed to be a moan, but was much closer to a sob…
A sound that was supposed to be a moan but was much closer to a sob?
Where the hell had that come from? But then he knew, because he heard it again—Izzy’s shoulders trembled and she let out another quiet, choked-off sob.
“Izzy?” he said, without thinking. “Is everything okay?”
She whipped around, and that’s when he realized maybe he should have thought first. Maybe he should have thought to take himself back upstairs and leave her to whatever was on her mind. He wasn’t supposed to be concerned with the inside of her package even though it was fairly obvious that from the spiky-lashed and tear-drenched chocolate of her eyes, Izzy wasn’t too happy.
“How did you get down here?” she asked.
“One stair at a time,” he admitted. “On my ass.”
“Owen!” she started to scold, then, apparently realizing there were tears on
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