Small-Town Homecoming by Lissa Manley

Author:Lissa Manley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2014-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Jenna stood back and looked at the walnut stairway railing she’d just polished to a high sheen, wanting to be sure it shined bright enough to see her reflection.

The ladies attending the Moonlight Cove Garden Club tea tomorrow were undoubtedly picky housekeepers from way back. Jenna wanted to impress them in every way possible, be it a high-gloss stair railing or carpet vacuumed to within an inch of its life.

Her tummy did an anxious tumble; tomorrow was an important day. If the ladies in the club liked what she did for them, then they were going to book their monthly meeting at the inn, giving her some much-needed regular business. That in turn would help pay for some of the repairs to the inn.

To that end she’d been cooking and cleaning since sunup. She’d only taken a break at lunch, and then dinner to serve Miss Landry the crock roast beef and vegetables she had put in at dawn.

Fortunately, Sam was on a school holiday and he and his mom had gone out of town to visit his grandmother in Yakima, so Jenna wouldn’t have to take care of him today. Though she loved having him around, it was far easier to prepare for the tea without him underfoot.

She wished she could say the same about Curt’s absence. He’d arrived home from work following dinner, and, after eating the foil-covered meal she’d put in the refrigerator for him, had gone up to his room to get his guitar. He was now ensconced on the porch, singing what sounded like a folk song that was vaguely familiar. Something about the answer blowing in the wind?

Which partially explained her cleaning spree; anything to keep herself inside, away from him, would do. She was marginally successful blocking out his mesmerizing voice and haunting guitar playing, though memories of her guitar lesson two nights ago hadn’t been as easily kept at bay.

In fact, she’d thought of little else since then.

Now on the bottom step, she worked at a dull spot on the wood, putting her elbow into the job. What had she been thinking, letting herself agree to that lesson? The second his strong arm went around her, she’d been like a piece of bacon left too long in the frying pan. Fried. Her breathing had gone all funny, her fingers had turned fat and clumsy and her senses had gone haywire.

And for the record, whoever had invented the aftershave he wore ought to be hung up by their toes on behalf of unsuspecting women everywhere. No man had the right to smell that good. Just the thought of his scent, all spicy and masculine and wonderful, had her tummy doing backflips worthy of an Olympic gymnast.

And during the lesson, when she’d turned and found him so close to her, she could see just how curly his eyelashes were, how deep his gaze could go, well...she’d almost keeled over right there on the kitchen floor from lack of oxygen and heart palpitations.

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