Real Marriage Material. Jodi O'Donnell

for his looks—and something to her respiration rate.

      She was compelled to try another smile on him. “No telling what must have gone through your mind when this woman showed up without warning…”

      He dropped his chin to rub it, slanting her a suddenly probing look from under his lashes. “I’m not sure what I thought, ma’am,” he murmured in a not altogether unappealing backwoods twang, his voice at a pitch that could have been pensive or provocative. Either way, it sent a shiver down Mariah’s spine.

      It was just another chill from the now-brisk afternoon, she told herself as she fell back into her formal persona. “Well, then, proper introductions are in order. I’m Mariah Duncan,” she said, extending her hand. “From Saved by the…”

      Her voice trailed off as she saw Jeb stare at her hand. His own curled closed at his side. What now? she thought as the dog stretched inquiringly toward her fingers.

      “Lucy, no,” he commanded. “We’ve already done enough damage.”

      The dog drew obediently back.

      “She doesn’t look bent on harm.” Her hand still extended, Mariah added rather pointedly, “Neither am I.” But she felt somehow the assurance was needed.

      His gaze cut to hers, again probing. He hesitated before explaining stiffly, “It’s just that we’re neither of us too savory right now, ma’am.”

      “I see.” Now that he mentioned it, she did detect what smelled like a combination of silty lake water, honest perspiration and wet fur, which was actually not all that unpleasant, especially out here in the fresh air. Mariah might have told him so except for his wariness, which left her feeling even more self-conscious.

      On another impulse, she crouched, hand still extended, and said softly, “Lucy, is it?”

      The direct greeting was more than the dog could stand. Feathery tail slashing back and forth like a windshield wiper, the animal shoved her nose into Mariah’s palm and gave a hearty sniff before moving in to try for moreintimate contact, namely Mariah’s face. She managed to avoid the invasive advances of Lucy’s questing nose while giving the dog a few friendly pats.

      Up close, Lucy’s odor was a little overpowering, but Mariah bore up as best she could, since she could see from the corner of her eye the softening of Jeb’s features she’d hoped for. Not that she’d exactly been trying to soothe the savage beast. Still, Mariah discovered she’d achieved her aim when she turned her face upward and found herself the recipient of another one of those grudging half smiles—as if his mouth was unused to tipping up at the corners—that seemed to suggest he appreciated the spirit of her gesture.

      Her heart quickened in response. For the first time, she saw how handsome Jeb Albright was—or might be, once he’d had the chance to tidy up. Although it was only April, his strong features were tanned. His hair could have used a good trimming, even if the way it hung over his forehead had its allure. Beneath the dusting of a five-o’clock shadow, his jaw and chin and mouth were finely formed. Her gaze wandering, she noticed that the worn-out T-shirt that had first caught her attention covered—quite snugly—wide shoulders and the defined musculature of the chest she’d been fleetingly pressed against. From her position crouched at his feet, she could see up close that his jeans, like his T-shirt, were worn, stained—and fit just as well.

      He looked wild, all right. Wild and…real.

      Mariah glanced up to find dark-lashed blue eyes perusing her as thoroughly. Abruptly she was certain she must have imagined both his wariness and his regard, for his gaze was filled with some earthy, predatory emotion. And rather than holding her at bay, it pulled her to him, kindling in her an answering primitiveness.

      She’d heard the phrase animal magnetism before, but this was the first time she’d experienced it in the flesh, so to speak.

      Another wave of fear washed over her, this one out of concern for her emotional well-being rather than her physical safety. Yes, she could see the seduction in that earthiness, how it could become a demanding need.

      Of course, that had been the accusation Stephen had thrown at her before she left him—-just as he’d also told her a woman like her could never understand such a need.

      Escaping those thoughts, she lit upon the first subject that came to mind. “So you must be the J in Bubba J.’s.”

      At her statement, Jeb’s expression clouded over yet again. “Nope,” he said curtly.

      “Well, I just wondered.” Her fingers groped for the pearls. “A lot of boys in Texas grow up being called that—”

      “There is no Bubba J.,” he interrupted, then with the same stiffness he’d shown before, he went on, “It’s supposed to give the feeling of us being ‘just folks.’ You know, what city people expect to find when they come out here—” He cut off his explanation with a sound of impatience. “It’s just a name. That’s all.”

      “Fine.” Quite obviously she’d hit a sore spot. Several, in fact. This, along with the hazard to her emotional equilibrium she’d just experienced, led Mariah to decide she might be best to conclude this interview, such as it had been, and return to Sherman, even if she still had no idea why she’d been called here. Now, though, she really wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

      But before she could act on that decision, she heard a door open and close distantly behind her. Rising, Mariah saw the man who must be the real Wiley Albright hurrying toward her and Jeb from Bubba J.’s.

      “I’m late, I’m late, I know I am,” he called to them, pointing his hands skyward, stick-up style. “I was teachin’ Robbie how to close up and clean forgot the time.”

      “Everything okay?” Jeb asked Wiley.

      “Fine, son, just fine,” Wiley assured him as he came to a stop in front of them both, Lucy panting at his feet as she waited with scarcely restrained excitement to deliver her end-of-the-day welcome.

      “Mariah Duncan, Mr. Albright,” Mariah volunteered formally. This time she didn’t offer her hand, hoping to avoid another awkward moment and to extract herself from this situation as quickly as possible.

      “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he answered, stooping to pet Lucy before she hurt herself with her wriggling to remain still. “And call me Wiley.”

      This was what Mariah had been expecting: a midsixtyish man emanating the relaxed friendliness she’d encountered in her phone conversation with him. Wiley Albright was more spare in build than his nephew but had the same aqua blue gaze that sized her up just as Jeb’s had seconds before. Then his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at her and offered his hand with none of his nephew’s reservation.

      Slightly mollified, Mariah took it. For a minute there, she’d felt like a McCoy who had crossed onto Hatfield property. Or, she revised as she continued to feel Jeb’s gaze on her, was she more like Blanche DuBois encountering Stanley Kowalski?

      “Thanks for drivin’ all the way here outside of regular business hours, ma’am,” Wiley said.

      “Accommodating myself to my clients’ needs is my job. But really, I can’t begin to imagine what two men living in God’s country might need someone like me for.”

      “Yes, well…” Clearing his throat, Wiley tipped his head toward his nephew. “I guess you’ve met Jeb here?”

      “In a roundabout way. At first I thought he was you, and he had no clue who I was.” She turned toward the younger man, only to find him scrutinizing her with the same if not a greater caution than he had before.

      “I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding the place,” Wiley said quickly.

      She shook her head. “Your directions were perfect That’s probably why I was a little early. I like to leave myself a few extra minutes the first time I’m going to a client’s house, in case I have to backtrack.” Remembering Jeb’s earlier