Home-Grown Husband. Sharon Swan

This year, I’m sticking with strictly waterproof material.”

      “Good plan.” Tess started for the coffeepot on the counter, then halted in midstride when the front doorbell rang. “I wonder who that can be.”

      Sally arched a skillfully shaped brow. “Maybe it’s him.”

      Him.

      Tess’s pulse picked up a beat even as she calmly shoved the bottom edge of her striped camp shirt more firmly into the waistband of her jeans. “Not likely. It’s probably somebody selling something. Saturday mornings are great for that kind of thing.”

      “Why don’t you find out?” Sally suggested, rising. “Meanwhile, I’ll pour us both another cup of coffee.”

      “Okay.” Tess turned on the heel of one canvas sneaker, left the kitchen and walked down the hall, telling herself that it was ridiculous to feel this nervous about doing something so everyday normal as answering the door. It could well be a neighborhood kid selling candy to finance a school project, or an elderly resident seeking volunteers at the senior center. It could be anyone, she thought as she opened the door.

      But it wasn’t anyone, she learned after one look at the person dressed in faded denim standing on the doorstep.

      It was him.

      “Hello, Tess,” he said in the low, rough voice she remembered all too well. “We decided to take you up on that invitation.”

      We? It took her another moment and a second, more thorough look to notice that his newly adopted pet stood beside him, long ears brushing the white slats of a narrow porch floor being eagerly sniffed.

      “Hello…Jordan.” She had to say more than that, she knew. She just didn’t know what. Finally she settled on action and gestured a welcome. “Come on in.”

      He stepped forward with a slight tug on the dog’s leash, and spoke again as Tess closed the door behind them. “Is this a good time? I don’t want to disturb you if you’re busy.”

      “It’s a great time.” A soft voice drifted down the hall from the spot where Sally leaned in the kitchen doorway, mug in one hand and a wide smile curving red-shaded lips that all but matched her figure-hugging jumpsuit. “We gals were just having some coffee.”

      “Why don’t you join us?” Tess suggested, her brain kicking in at last.

      His crooked smile appeared. She remembered that, too. Not to mention the thick dark hair, the keen hazel eyes and the rest of the whole potent package. She doubted she’d ever totally forget it.

      “That’s fine with me,” he said, and the basset hound seemed to second the statement with a quiet woof. “Sounds like Jones agrees.”

      “Jones.” Tess’s brows made a rapid climb. “You named him Jones?”

      Jordan held up one hand, palm out. “Hey, don’t look at me. He picked it himself.”

      Tess took a stab at making sense of that statement as she reached down and offered a hand for inspection. “Hello…Jones.” The dog sniffed her fingers but shared no clues. Giving up, she gave the dog a hearty pat, then led her guests down the hall and introduced them to Sally.

      “Glad to meet you and Jones, Jordan.” Sally’s smile grew to a grin as they shook hands. “It’s so nice to know one’s neighbors. My husband, Ben, and I live a couple of blocks down the street with our two boys.”

      “I recently moved in next door.”

      Looking up a considerable way at the man standing in front of her, Sally’s brown eyes positively twinkled. “I know.”

      “Well, let’s get you that cup of coffee,” Tess said hastily, deciding it was time to break in. The last thing she wanted was for Jordan Trask to even suspect they’d been discussing him. Which they had, of course. At length.

      While she retrieved another mug from a bleached-oak cabinet, her company seated themselves across from each other at the round glass table. The dog stretched out on the misty green tile near his master’s feet.

      Tess picked up the pot. “How do you like your coffee?”

      “Just black.” Jordan settled back in his chair and propped one booted foot on his knee.

      “And how do you like Harmony?” Sally asked as a steaming mug was placed in front of him.

      It was Jordan’s turn to grin, and Tess’s turn to fan herself. She felt the urge, at any rate. What the man could accomplish with a grin should be illegal, she thought, gazing down at him. It was positively deadly to the female half of the population.

      “Harmony’s terrific,” he didn’t hesitate to reply. “Strangers actually introduce themselves to you on the street, even in the busier downtown areas. It took a few times for me to expect it. Then again, one elderly, silver-haired lady didn’t say a word when she picked out a cantaloupe for me at the grocery. She just walked up, shook a few, handed her choice over and left with a brisk nod.”

      “Probably Hester Goodbody,” Sally concluded. “She tends to take charge, although in the nicest way. I think it’s become second nature to her. Miss Hester taught a whole lot of us how to glue shiny stars on paper in the first grade. I think it was really a lesson in sitting still.”

      Jordan chuckled. “Well, whatever the case, she certainly was friendly.”

      “We’re a friendly bunch, by and large. There are some confirmed grouches around, but not too many to ignore, if we chose to.”

      Abandoning her coffee, Sally leaned forward and propped her elbows on the table. She flicked a glance at Tess, now seated beside her, then returned her gaze to Jordan. “And speaking of friendliness,” she said in an offhand tone, “I know we’ve only just met, but Ben and I are a having a backyard barbecue tonight if you’d like to stop by for some ribs and a beer. Most of the neighborhood will be there.”

      Tess froze with her mug halfway to her mouth, well aware that something was up. Not that she should be surprised, she told herself in the next breath, recalling the earlier twinkle in a pair of brown eyes. Sally wanted to get to know this man better—and she most especially wanted Tess to get to know him better. That was as clear as a neon sign in Las Vegas. At least it was to her. She could only hope it wasn’t as blatantly plain to Jordan.

      “Tess is coming,” Sally added, oh-so-casually, placing her chin in the palm of one hand. If she caught the abruptly stern warning aimed from under her friend’s lashes, she wasted no time in dismissing it and fluttering her own. “Maybe you two could come together.”

      And maybe I could strangle you, Tess thought, tightening her fingers around the mug handle.

      The muscles in Jordan’s throat worked as he took a long swallow of his coffee. Then he turned his head and looked directly at Tess.

      “Maybe we could,” he said. “I’d like to go. Would you go with me?”

      “Oh, I’m sure she’d love to,” Sally tossed in, as though the whole thing were happily settled.

      And now it was past time to choke her, Tess reflected grimly. No jury made up of single women with well-meaning friends would convict her. They’d probably give her a medal. Before she could go about earning one, though, Sally pushed back her chair and all but leaped to her feet.

      “My, how the time does fly! I have to get a move on. There’s a mountain of potato salad to make and all sorts of things to do. See you tonight, Jordan. Don’t bother walking me out, Tess.” With that, she made a beeline for the doorway to the hall, sandal heels tapping the way, and turned to wave a merry goodbye.

      Tess launched a steely, sidelong stare that silently said, I’ll get you for this.

      To which yet another lively twinkle in Sally’s eye replied, No, with any luck at all, you’ll thank me.

      Chapter