Josh Stewart |
Want another little snippet to whet your appetite? (Have you ordered your copy yet? Links are on the web page.)
Jared pushed to his feet once more, retrieved the remaining tools on the dining room
table and stuck them in his pocket, then crutched to his chair. As he resumed
his seat, his phone rang with Celine Dion’s My
Angel—the lovely Siobhan McCormick. He knew her last
name now.
“Hallo?”
he answered.
“Sorry
I missed your call.”
“I
was worried I might have scared you off, with all my bruises and bandages and
scars.”
She
was silent a moment.
“Siobhan?”
“I’m
here,” she said softly.
“Why
didn’t you tell me who you were?”
“How
did you know it was me?”
He
smiled. “Well, I didn’t place your voice at first, but that silly nickname you
used was close enough to put it all together. If you’d have said your name was
Miss McCormick, then I might have had a more difficult time.”
“Shevy’s
not a silly nickname. My brother calls me that. And my sister.”
“Sounds
more like a car, and darlin’, you don’t look anything like a car.” He closed
his eyes to picture her. No, she was sweet, and pretty and he sensed a bit of
feisty that would make things interesting, but best not to go there right now,
not while his bones were still mending. “So you want to buy my house?”
“I
haven’t decided if I’m ready to take that step.”
“I
noticed you lingering in the bedroom. Something about that appeal to you?”
Nope, nothing wrong with his circulation. Jared shook his head, frustrated once
more by his injuries.
“The
closet didn’t look very big,” she said, but her voice held a teasing tone.
“I’ll
make it bigger for you,” he said.
She
laughed. “I think I already told you I’m not having phone sex with you.”
He
opened his eyes wide, then chuckled. “Well, that one’s on you, ma’am. I was actually
referring to the closet. I’m a carpenter by trade. What were you referring to?”
Not so Frankenstein-ish after all if her mind was going to those places.
“The
closet, of course,” she replied, that breathy hitch in her voice.
“You
want to have sex in the closet?” he asked. Say
yes.
She
giggled. “You’re a terrible flirt.”
“Tell
me what else you liked about the house, because you know I can’t have sex for
another month, and you’re killing me here.”
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