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Jason paused in the middle of hammering his bookshelf together, listening again for what had sounded like the doorbell. Deciding he could use a break anyway, he walked downstairs and was surprised to see a plate of cookies sitting on his front porch. A smile came to his face as he realized that they were from Amy. There was no note—she’d probably assumed she’d find him at home since his car was in the driveway.
Carrying the plate into the kitchen, he popped one into his mouth. Damn they were delicious. And still warm. He polished it off before walking back to the front door.
Jogging across the street, he rang the doorbell at Amy’s house, wondering if he was interrupting her baking session. A blast of warm air and the scent of cookies greeted him as she opened the front door. Her welcoming little home was a far cry from his own. He’d been there for months and was still assembling his furniture.
Amy appeared from behind the front door, wearing jeans and a hot pink tee shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her cheeks flushed, and her lips a luscious, rosy shade.
“Hi,” she said brightly, a smile coming to her face at the sight of him.
“Sorry I missed you earlier. I was upstairs putting together some furniture. I just wanted to say thank you for the cookies.”
“You’re welcome. Thank you for coming to my rescue last night.”
“Any time,” he said with a grin. He’d just noticed that she had a smudge of flour across one cheek. He reached out, gently brushing it off with his thumb, and watched as a flush came to her face. “You had a little flour there,” he said, his voice gravel.
What was it about this woman that had his mind spinning in circles, anyway?
Women pranced around in far less than she had on, but something about her overall appearance was always sexy as hell.
“Oh,” she said, blushing even more. “I didn’t even glance in the mirror before I ran to the door. My kitchen is a disaster right now.”
“Well, I don’t want to intrude. I just thought I’d run over and thank you in person while I had a chance.”
“Yeah, I’ve still got more baking to do. Apple pies are up next. And after all the cookies I sampled earlier, I think I’ll need to do a lot more running after the bake sale tomorrow,” she added with a laugh.
Jason glanced down at her slender frame with an amused smile. She certainly looked amazing to him, but if experience had taught him anything, it was that complimenting a woman you barely knew about her looks didn’t usually go over that well. Not the type of women that he seemed to like anyway. Amy’s friend Red probably wouldn’t have a problem with anyone lavishing her with compliments—whether she knew them or not.
He raised his eyes back up, perhaps letting them linger a moment too long on her firm, full breasts, but quickly met her eyes once more.
Amy hadn’t seemed to notice, and if she did, wasn’t letting on. “You’ve been around a lot this weekend,” she commented. “I don’t usually run into you.”
“I travel a lot on the weekends,” he explained. He didn’t add that he was often going to see his young son. He knew Amy loved children, being a preschool teacher, but it seemed too soon to overcomplicate things by bringing up Brian and his ex-wife right now. “I’m hoping to change that in the future, though.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, seeming unsure what exactly he meant. And rightfully so, he thought. It wasn’t like him to be purposefully vague.
Jason caught a glimpse of one of Amy’s paintings on the wall, and inspiration suddenly struck. He’d ask her for help buying some artwork. God knew his place needed it. If he were ever going to gain partial custody of Brian, he needed to decorate his house—make it the least bit more lived-in and homey looking. Plus, Brian would need a room. Hell, if he were ever even going to have company over he needed to decorate a little bit.
“I noticed an art gallery in town. What do you think about going with me sometime to pick out some artwork? My walls are totally bare, and I could use some help.”
“Oh, uh, sure,” she said, sounding surprised.
“It’s fine if you don’t have the time,” he reassured her. “I just love the things you painted and thought you might like to help me pick something out.”
“You just caught me off guard,” she said, her cheeks turning slightly pink. His eyes trailed down to her lips. “Sure, I’d love to help you. When do you have in mind?”
“How about one night after work this week?”
He’d get to know Amy a little better, she’d be at ease helping him find the perfect painting for his home, and if that went well, then he’d suggest dinner or drinks another time. A real date. It was tricky with the holidays coming up. He’d be gone a couple of weekends and then again at Thanksgiving. He really wanted to see more of her though.
“Tuesday or Wednesday would be great. The art gallery always displays beautiful pieces from local artists. Of course, the larger stores have mass-produced artwork, if you want something like that instead.”
“I think the art gallery would be perfect. I wouldn’t mind a custom piece or two.”
“Great. Why don’t I give you my cell number, and we can set up a time?”
“Sounds perfect.” He palmed his pockets. “I didn’t bring my phone when I ran over. I’ll give you my number, and you can text me so I have yours.”
“Okay, hang on,” she said with a laugh. “Come in,” she added, walking into her kitchen.
The snug jeans she was wearing hugged her toned ass, and he tried to stifle a groan. She had no damn idea how tempting she was.
A moment later she was back carrying her phone. He gave her his number, and she texted him right away.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said with a grin. “Guess I’ll let you get back to it. Thanks again for the cookies.”
“Sure thing,” she said, walking with him toward the front door. She flushed slightly as he turned around, only inches away from her. He tried to ignore the swell of her breasts as she took a breath, or the way her eyes widened ever-so-slightly as she gazed up at him.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” he said in a low voice. “Bye Amy.”
“Bye,” she repeated softly, closing the door behind him.
He glanced back at the door as he walked down the driveway, but she was already gone. No matter. He was looking forward to the work week more than he had in a long time.
