Loving Thy Neighbor by Ruth Scofield

Author:Ruth Scofield
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2001-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

For a moment, she was so close he could easily have slipped an arm around her waist, closing those three inches between them. His gaze landed smack in the middle of hers, blue eyes wide. And lingered. Desire shot through him as jagged and hot as the lightning outside.

Her mouth softened and parted, and it came as a genuine shock that she wanted him, too, wished to feel his warmth and closeness as much as he wanted hers. The knowledge wedged between them, surrounding them, sure and demanding.

But the last thing in the world either of them needed right now was to involve themselves in a heavy flirtation with disaster. And how could it be anything else? They were neighbors who had nothing more in common than that. Single adults, unentangled and both healthy.

He yanked his thoughts aside, ruthlessly shuttering them. He was much, much too aware of her feminine charms.

Something in her gaze cooled. A response to what she saw in his?

He let Quincee step away, making herself busy. Her voice faintly wobbled as she said, “Just…I need to learn enough repair work to get by.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve noticed.” He tried not to allow his tone to sound too dry. Or too affected.

He concentrated on his coffee, letting the awkward moment dissolve. He stirred, sipped, then added more sugar, watching her while she opened two cans of tuna. He tried to lighten his approach. “Ever hear the phrase ‘Jack of all trades but master of none’?”

“Oh, sure. I’m a good teacher and I’m working on a master’s in early childhood education.” Her hands stilled for just a moment as if a new idea had arrested her thought flow. “Or I was. But I like learning other skills, and now I have this house. I have to learn enough to do a creditable job of…whatever repairs it needs.”

“And what you can’t learn you try bargaining for. Ever heard of the legal tender in common use in these United States? Commonly called money?”

“Wonderful commodity to have, I agree.” She flipped the words over her shoulder with a drop of irony, her eyes flashing with humor. She pulled a sharp knife from the drawer beside him, then proceeded to chop onion with a vengeance. “And if I ever find a professional ball player to marry—he can be a marble champion for all I care, he’d still earn more than a teacher—I may well trade in my bargaining hat. But till then, I’m on my own.”

She lifted her chopping board and she scraped the onion into a bowl.

Outside, a wind gust showered the window above the sink with more rain. A heavy rapping followed.

“What now?” she muttered, setting down her mixing spoon. She wiped her hands on a paper towel and went to the front door. “It’s not even five-thirty.”

Hamilton sipped his coffee and listened from the kitchen. “Oh, hello, Randolf. Come in and have some coffee.”

He grimaced, staring into his mug. He might have known. That old coot Bader had taken quite a shine to Quincee; he’d been hanging around their side of the street ever since she’d moved in.

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