Barely Behaving

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She spoke matter of factly about her divorce. Not that he wanted her crying in her beer, but she didn’t seem particularly brokenhearted or pissed or bitter—all very real emotions he’d seen in other divorced couples. He wasn’t brokenhearted and he wasn’t bitter, but he was pissed about his breakup with Mia. Maybe she’d worked through all of the above. “How long have you been divorced?”

She circled the rim of her mug with her fingertip. “Almost twenty-four hours.” She laughed at the surprise that must’ve shown on his face. “How about you? Well, not divorced but, ya know, splitsville?”

“Things were over a couple of months ago. I wanted to get married. She didn’t. I stayed in the house until it was time for me to move.”

She crumbled a chip into small pieces on her saucer. “That must’ve been a party.”

It had been damn awkward. “Luckily it was a big house and we tried to stay out of each other’s way.”

“Do you miss her?” Her soft question surprised him. No one had asked him that.

Denial sat on the tip of his tongue, driven by pride. But the sincere curiosity on Tammy’s face prompted him to say what he hadn’t faced before now. “Yeah, I guess I do. We were friends. At least we were ’til the end.”

“Maybe you’ll get back together.” She pushed her chin-length hair behind her ear.

“No.” That wasn’t pride talking, just surety. “There’s not a lot of middle ground when one person wants to get married and the other one doesn’t. Even that aside, it felt final when I left. It’s over.” For the first time he could say it without a bitter note.

She nodded, her blue eyes inscrutable. “Earl and I tried a year’s separation, but it was over when I moved out.”

“Do you miss him?”

“I did at first. Until I realized how much I liked being on my own.”

He was ridiculously relieved she wasn’t pining for her ex-husband.

“The papers came today,” she continued. “Sunbathing is my way of celebrating!”

It was a provocative reminder. “Do you do that often?” he asked, recalling with gut-clenching clarity her full, dusky-tipped breasts, the glint of her navel ring against her golden skin, the tangle of curls nestled between her thighs and the length of her legs.

“Which one? Divorce or sunbathe naked?” Her smile seduced. “Neither one anymore. That was my third strike and I’m out of the marriage game for good—” he didn’t have to be a boy genius to figure that one out “—and as for the other, I don’t want to upset the new neighbors.”

“I can’t speak for the other neighbors, but don’t let me cramp your style.” He wasn’t normally much of a flirt, but Tammy’s easy sensuality inspired him.

“Ah, but can I trust Gigi to leave my naked toes alone? They’re very sensitive, you know.” She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. One playful comment, a provocative look and she totally turned him on.

“I’m sure they are.” The thought of sensitive naked toes and sensitive naked other parts left him aching. Talking about something other than naked parts might not be a bad idea. Besides, he found that the more he knew about her, the more he wanted to know. “What do you do?”

“I’m a massage therapist.” Oh, hell, that just intensified the naked parts fantasies lurking at the back of his mind. “I started my own business five months ago and it’s going well.” Her husky laugh held an underlying note of self-consciousness. “I finally figured out what I wanted to be when I grew up. Before that I did a little bit of everything. I was a nail technician, a waitress, and a grocery store checkout clerk.” She propped her chin in her hand and fixed him with her bright blue eyes. “How about you? How long have you been a vet?”

She looked as if she really cared and wasn’t just making polite conversation. Actually, Tammy impressed him as doing exactly what she wanted and the niceties be damned. She’d certainly been forthright about Schill, her ex-husbands and her reputation.

“I finished vet school five years ago, but I knew that’s what I wanted to do from the time I was a kid. Except for the summer I was six and wanted to drive an ice-cream truck.”

Tammy laughed, “Talk about a shift in ambition. Why a vet?”

“It just felt right. I’ve always liked animals and I like to fix things. I drove my mom nuts bringing home sick animals.”

Throughout the meal preparation and dinner, they discussed everything from movies—she preferred suspense rather than his action thrillers—to the NFL playoffs. With a start, Niall realized they’d finished eating some time ago and a number of the candles had burned low.

Reluctantly, he pushed away from the island. “Thanks for a great dinner. I should be getting home.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself so much. “Let me help with the dishes before I go.”

“They’re no big deal.” Tammy blew off his offer.

“Good. Then it shouldn’t take us long to get them done.”

“A man who does dishes—let this get out and the women really will swamp you.”

Twice she’d alluded to other women swamping him. Was she trying to tell him she wasn’t interested? But he hadn’t gotten that impression at all. She felt the attraction between them—he’d seen it in her eyes more than once tonight.

“Didn’t any of your husbands ever help out in the kitchen?” He was no saint, but his mother had taught him and his brother and sister to clean up after themselves, and he’d figured out early on that cutting the work in half left more time for him and Mia. Not only was he not into having someone wait on him, it led to sex on a much more regular basis.

“Jerry, my first husband, thought wife was another word for maid. I was so young and dumb at seventeen, I went along with it, but Allen and Earl were okay.”

“Seventeen?” That seemed incredibly young. The summer Niall was seventeen, his father’d been stationed in Southern California at Point Magu. He’d spent his time cruising the Pacific Highway in his buddy’s beat-up convertible and learning to surf. Tammy’d already been married.

“It seemed like the thing to do at the time.” Her husky voice feathered across his skin. He turned to pass the plates to her as she spoke. Squeezed into the tight space between the island and the sink, her hip bumped his thigh and his arm pressed against hers. He’d never been aware of a woman to such a devastating degree. He felt on fire for her.

“Do you regret getting married so young?” He didn’t normally quiz people this way, but he felt compelled to know more about her—everything about her.

She looked up at him, her eyes serious. “Regret’s pointless—a waste of energy. We’re shaped by our past. If you regret where you’ve been, how can you like who you’ve become?” She closed the dishwasher and dried her hands. As if blown away by a gust of wind, her intensity vanished and she was once again flashing a naughty-girl smile. “Now I’m going to give you directions to the grocery store because the neighbors will talk if you show up for breakfast tomorrow morning.”

Tammy pulled a pen and paper out of a drawer. Bracing one hand on the island, Niall leaned over her shoulder. He forgot to read what she was writing, distracted by her nearness. An errant lock of her hair brushed against his chin as she looked up. Her breath fanned against his chin, her scent wrapped around him. In the light of the flickering candles and small lamp, her skin glowed and her blue eyes darkened.

God help him, but it was a subtle form of mental torture that he’d seen her naked before and now she was close and real and he wanted to see her naked again. But more than that, even though he’d spent the whole evening talking and laughing with her, he had the distinct impression several layers concealed the real Tammy Cooper. She’d been blunt and free and easy with personal information, but she’d only let him see what she wanted him to see.

Longing, unlike any he’d known before, gripped him. He reached out to touch her cheek, the yearning to test the satin of her skin against his finger and feel the fullness of her mouth against his almost a physical ache. Her lips were so close, so tempting, he could feel her warm breath against his mouth, could almost taste her…

At the last minute, sanity prevailed and he reached for the paper instead. He’d almost made a total ass of himself by repaying her courtesy and hospitality by making a pass at her.

For a moment something flickered across her face. Disappointment? Vulnerability? Niall’s own emotions were so tossed, he wasn’t sure. He just knew he needed to get out of here. “Thank you. For everything.”

Tammy escorted him to the front door, once again in control, her unguarded moment gone. “You’re welcome for everything.” She leaned forward, her body maddingly close. Her scent, her heat drew him closer til the tips of her nipples seared him through their layers of clothes. With a soft laugh, Tammy tugged his head down, her fingers soft against his neck. She pressed a quick, hot kiss to his mouth. The kiss was almost over before it’d begun. She opened the door for him. “Good night, Niall. My number’s on the paper. Give me a call if you need anything.”

At that moment Niall realized the distinct difference between want and need.

TAMMY WELCOMED her regular work routine the next morning. Last night’s dinner with Niall had left her restless. For the first time since she’d moved into her house, she’d known the discontent of her own company once he’d gone home. Worse yet, self-pleasure with Big Ben had fallen short of the mark, merely accentuating the longing Niall had stirred in her. Two D-cell batteries couldn’t mimic his breath stirring against her neck or the cautious heat in his dark eyes. She’d been so sure he was going to kiss her. She’d practically trembled with anticipation. She’d been so surprised when he hadn’t…. He’d left her no option except to kiss him instead and give him something to think about overnight. She’d certainly thought about it. And now she had a business to think about.

Tammy unlocked the old-fashioned, glass-fronted door that faced the town square. Saturdays were always booked and today was no exception. One of the smartest business decisions she’d made was taking Fridays off and opening Saturdays to accommodate clients’ work schedules or stay-at-home moms who needed to leave the kidlets with dad to make an appointment.

Her first appointment, Willette Tidwell, was in fifteen minutes, which meant Tammy had half an hour to kill, since Willette would be late to her own funeral when the time came.

She knelt on the Harlequin-tiled floor and leaned in to arrange an orange-ginger scented gift set beneath the Christmas tree in the narrow window front. Just enough time to finish the Christmas display. She’d sold three gift sets already this week.

The bell tinkled as the door opened behind her. She twisted around. Uh-oh. Lowell Evans.

“Hey, Tammy.”

“What’s up, Lowell?” She rose to her feet, sure she knew why Lowell had stopped by. She’d told him she wouldn’t go out with him until her divorce was final. She was a free woman today.

“Heard your divorce came through.” Bingo. The gleam in his bedroom-blue eyes bordered on predatory.

Why wasn’t his frank appraisal and appreciation eliciting even a quiver, especially after her ten and a half month hiatus? Once upon a time, that look had left her hot and bothered. Now it just left her bothered.

Tammy laughed, shaking her head. “I know news travels fast in this town, but it was just yesterday.”

“Yeah, well, Earl mentioned it at Cecil’s last night.”

She’d celebrated by sunbathing naked. Earl had celebrated with a beer or two at Cecil’s Bar and Grill. Actually, Earl wouldn’t have stopped at two unless he’d changed drastically in the past year. That’d been yet one more irreconcilable difference when they’d split up. Earl had grown increasingly fond of a inebriation. She’d grown up with a drunk—she loved Pops but she’d spent one too many nights as a child and a teenager looking after an alcoholic—by God, she wasn’t going to remain married to one. She hadn’t considered sobriety and faithfulness unreasonable requests.

She almost asked Lowell just how wasted Earl had been, but left it alone. Frankly, Scarlett, she didn’t give a damn.

Instead she looked at Lowell, which wasn’t a hardship ’cause Lowell was a bonafide hottie. A tough guy in a tight-jeans-and-tattoo, badass kind of way. Actually, just the kind of guy she’d always been attracted to. Past tense. Lowell wasn’t doing a thing for her now.

“You’re looking good, babe.” He leaned against the door with a swagger and raked her with hungry eyes. “Hot. So, now that you’re footloose and fancy-free, how about you and me going out?”

Lowell was the spitting image of Brad Pitt and she’d always had a thing for Brad. Her hormones should’ve been having a field day at the prospect of going out with him. She’d always maintained a gal had to grab a chance when it presented itself. Now, here was Lowell, opportunity personified, and she wasn’t interested.

Not the way she’d been interested when she’d felt Niall’s heat in the close confines of her kitchen last night or when she’d kissed him by the front door. That memory alone notched up her temperature.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Lowell’s cocky grin faded. “You don’t think so?” He wasn’t nearly so sexy with his mouth hanging open.

“That’s right.” She turned to straighten the magazines on the table between the two armchairs. Her waiting room was small, but that was okay. There was never more than one person waiting at a time.

“Why the hell don’t you want to go out with me?”

Because she’d fricking said so should’ve been good enough. Lowell’s arrogant incredulity was beginning to work her nerves. “Lowell, I don’t owe you an explanation. I’ve said no so leave it at that.”

Lowell wasn’t a happy camper. He wasn’t used to being turned down.

“I may not still be interested when you decide you are,” he warned, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

His attitude weakened his case and strengthened her resolve. A grown man sulking was so not sexy. “I’ll take that chance.”

“Baby, I could play you like a violin. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“I’m pretty sure I do.” Lowell struck her as remarkably similar to Earl, Jerry, Allen and all the other men in between. Same book, different page. And suddenly she was ready to read a different book.

Willette—on time for once in her life—peered through the glass door, questioning whether she should come in.

Tammy waved her in. “My appointment’s here,” she said dismissing Lowell and his attitude.

Willette strolled in. Lowell got in the last word as he stomped out. “Give me a call when you change your mind. Maybe I’ll be available.”

“What was that all about?” Willette asked before the door shut behind him.

Tammy had known Willette all her life. Married to Bob Tidwell right after high school, Willette had three children, owned a nice house in a new subdivision on the outskirts of town, served as president of the PTA, taught Sunday school at the Baptist church and lived vicariously through Tammy.