Home-Grown Husband. Sharon Swan

fine, pumpkin. What have you been up to?”

      “Lots. Grandma took me to the beach today. We had a good time, even though Grandpa didn’t go. He wanted to stay home and watch a baseball game instead. Tomorrow Gram and I are going to the zoo. She asked Grandpa to go, too, but he says there’s another game on TV.” Ali issued a dramatic sigh. “I think Grandpa’s turning into a couch potato.”

      “Sounds like it,” Tess agreed, remembering a time when her father had loved being outdoors as much as she did now.

      “Just between us—” Ali’s voice dropped to a confidential pitch “—Grandma told him when she probably thought I wasn’t listening that if he keeps on acting like his butt is glued to the recliner, she’s gonna get fed up one of these days and do something drastic.”

      Tess’s smile grew, because she had no trouble imagining her mother delivering those words in a familiar no-nonsense tone. Glenda Fitzgerald was a woman who could tell it like it was, and didn’t hesitate to do so if she felt the occasion demanded it.

      “What do you suppose Gram meant by something drastic, Mom?”

      “Who knows?” Tess pursed her lips. “Maybe cutting the cord on the TV. Or fixing fish for dinner every night.”

      “Aha,” Ali said wisely. “Gram and I like fish, but Grandpa doesn’t.”

      Chuckling, Tess replied, “Exactly, pumpkin. Your grandfather would be making his own dinner, which probably falls in the drastic category, at least as far as he’s concerned. He’d be mumbling and grumbling all over the place.”

      Ali giggled. The sound was music to Tess’s ears. Her daughter had gone through some dark days after Roger died, but the shadows had long since faded, thank heavens. “Tell me what else you’ve been up to,” she urged, and, as expected, Ali launched into an eager explanation.

      With a promise to call during the week, Tess hung up the phone minutes later and returned to the window. The first big drops of warm rain hit with soft pings and slid their way down the glass as she looked out at the now empty yard next door.

      He was gone. But not forgotten. Even a lively conversation with her much-loved child hadn’t pushed her neighbor completely from her mind. No, he was still there. Those dark-lashed eyes, that chiseled mouth, the knockout grin.

      And the powerful body. She couldn’t deny that she remembered every impressive inch of it, and she couldn’t say that she’d object to seeing more. Because she wouldn’t.

      As a lover, Jordan Trask would be ideal.

      Even as that thought bloomed, she was struck by exactly how right it seemed. Not for just any woman, but for her. In every way she could imagine, this man fit the part to a tee.

      Physically, she was attracted to him. Just kneeling beside him in a flower bed was the most exciting thing she’d done in years, at least as far as everything female inside her was concerned. Her pulse still hadn’t returned to normal. Not quite. Not yet. She wondered how long it would take.

      Emotionally, he attracted her, as well. Watching him warily bond with his new pet had tugged at her heartstrings, she couldn’t deny. And the fact that the dog clearly wasn’t wary spoke volumes. Deep down, he was a good man—one she could come to respect, given the chance. Every instinct she had said so.

      And, added to all of the above, one more thing about him held great appeal. Right now, at this point in her life and circumstances being what they were, it was the icing on the cake.

      Jordan Trask would be a temporary lover.

      Temporary, because she didn’t for one minute believe that he would settle down in Harmony. He’d come here to find something, probably a solid strategy for what to do next, and having found it, he would move on. Men well acquainted with the thrill of danger didn’t prop their boots up on a porch railing in peaceful surroundings and contentedly watch the world go by. Not for any real length of time.

      So he would go. And if they did become lovers, when it was over there would be no uncomfortable aftermath. That was one of the difficulties of living in a smaller city, Tess knew. If she set her sights on someone local, they’d be running into each other long after the affair had run its course—whether they wanted to or not.

      Far better, she believed, to choose someone who was exciting on one level, admirable on another, and…temporary.

      Oh, yes. It would be ideal.

      He was here for the summer. Her daughter was happily occupied elsewhere. Perfect.

      And what made her think he would even consider it?

      Tess shook her head as that thought hit home, and soon chided herself for pure foolishness. Here she was, she reflected with a rueful twist of her lips, flirting with the idea of an intimate relationship with her new neighbor, when he hadn’t so much as flirted with her, not really. Time for a reality check, she concluded, turning away from the window.

      The man in question had done nothing to launch her mind down the particular path it had taken. Nothing but grin at her and waggle an invitation to possibly come over again—which was hardly enough to mean anything. After all, Tess told herself as she started for the laundry room, larger-than-life men hardly made a habit of getting involved with down-to-earth women.

      Did they?

      THE FLOWERS INVADED Jordan’s dreams that night. Rainbow-colored and brightly scented, they marched straight into his imagination, a brilliant parade of blooms in endless shapes and sizes. Roses. Snapdragons. Marigolds. And a legion more he still couldn’t put a name to.

      In his mind, he walked in a huge garden at the height of a sultry summer day, gazing around him as he made his way down a narrow cobblestone path carved into a sea of lush green grass. The goal foremost in his thoughts was to reach a certain place, to find a certain…something. The knowledge of exactly what, eluded him keeping a quick, enticing step ahead to remain just beyond his grasp.

      But he was dead sure he had to find it.

      So he kept on going, while birds chirped softly in the background and warm wind rustled a thousand leaves.

      And then he came to a sharp twist in the winding path and saw a woman seated on a plain wooden bench in a small clearing. Everything inside him clenched at the sight, because she wore nothing but a yellow rosebud tucked behind one ear. He knew that for a certainty, despite the fact that only her face was completely clear to him, as if a filmy veil cloaked the rest of her body from his gaze.

      She made no attempt to cover herself, showed no surprise at his appearance. Rather, her eyes welcomed him, blue as the sunlit sky above, as he approached. And all at once he realized he’d found what he’d been looking for.

      Swiftly on the heels of that knowledge came a surge of want. He wanted many things, wanted them badly and wanted them soon. But most of all at that moment, he wanted to kiss the woman who awaited him.

      As if well aware of his thoughts, she rose in one smooth motion, spread her arms and slid them around his neck without hesitation when he finally stood beside her. Then she pressed her lips to one side of his jaw and feathered her tongue over his cheek. He longed for her mouth under his, craved a deep, hard taste. Yet he found himself willing to wait, because what she was doing felt so good. So warm. So…moist.

      So arousing.

      Or it would have been, if something hadn’t prompted him to slit an eye open. He quickly discovered that Tess Cameron was nowhere in sight. But he was indeed being licked.

      By a dog.

      “What the hell!” Jordan shot straight up in the brass double bed, sending the white sheet tumbling to his waist. He wore nothing beneath it, preferring bare skin to bunched pajamas when it came to nightwear. And as far as morning wake-up kisses were concerned, he’d take sweet, human female over damp canine any day.

      “Don’t ever do that again,” he grumbled, frowning down at his new pet. A pet still lacking a name, he reminded himself.