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He spent a lot of time with words. So much time he didn’t
prefer speaking too many of them in a row. But he had tonight, though he’d
mostly listened.

She’d seemed so eager to open herself, completely unlike any
other almost-divorcée he’d ever met. Guarded? Not hardly.

Before he could halt the forward progress of his thumbs,
they answered the question of what to say for him.

What r u wring?

Jeff tossed the phone aside then leaped on it when it buzzed
a moment later. Thank God. She didn’t think he was a perverted weirdo. Or if
she did at least she’d elected to answer him before she blocked his calls.

Boxers & my shotgn’s beside me. Who the f r u?

Hmm, maybe he’d forgotten Karyn’s number after all. She
didn’t seem like the type to sit around in boxers while armed. He texted back a
quick
sorry
and then sent his message again, changing the last digit to
an 8. That had to be right. If it wasn’t, he’d likely need to get a new number.
And possibly police protection.

This time it took considerably longer to get a response.

Jeff? No, I’m not wrong.

He groaned. So much for texting. She’d totally
misinterpreted his question. He could take it as a way out or he could see this
ill-conceived mission through. It was dark and he was horny. He hadn’t done
nearly enough in his life to regret. Tonight seemed like a fine time to start.

Beyond that, he liked her. Genuinely. And he wished like
hell he hadn’t let her go home alone to an empty house.

His thumbs moved over the buttons.

R u naked?

Jeff?

Yeah. R u naked?

He’d keep asking until he got an answer, even if it was fuck
off. Or fuk off.

No. I’m painting. Not naked.

Do u want to b?

Not rly. 2 cold.

Time for a new tactic.

Can I call u?

Sure. Gimme a few 2 clean up.

He waited fifteen minutes and then called, already
anticipating her voice. Soft as a waterfall, lilting with her easy laughter. He
liked making her laugh.

“Karyn?” he asked when she picked up.

“Yes. What’s with the naked stuff?”

“I was trying to set a mood.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’m oblivious.”

“No kidding.” But he grinned as he rolled over on his side
and propped his head on his hand. “What are you painting?”

“That same picture I told you about.”

“The one with all the splashes of color?”

“Mmm hmm.” Her voice sounded a little distracted. He
imagined her studying her picture, head cocked, eyes narrowed. “It’ll probably
look like a mess to anyone else, but I like it. Love it actually. It’s like an
exploding sunburst.”

The sheer delight trickling through her voice made him sit
up. “I want to see it.”

“Whenever you’d like. I think I need more blue paint—”

“Blue for an exploding sunburst?”

“Like the center of a flame.” At his silence, she added,
“It’s
my
painting.”

“I know.” He chuckled and got to his feet, already searching
around for his jeans on the floor. So he wasn’t the best of housekeepers. “You
don’t think it’s weird I called?”

“I was wondering when you would.”

“Oh.”
Okay then.
“Can I come over?”

She hesitated. “Now?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s past midnight.”

“You busy?”

“No, just painting. But I was going to go to bed soon.”

“Sounds good to me.”

She laughed and the sound loosened something inside his gut,
unwinding snakes of need that wrapped around his cock in a viselike grip. Had
he ever met another woman so natural, so completely without artifice?

Had he ever been so fucking hard?

“I think this is my first booty call,” she said
thoughtfully.

He tripped in the dark and choked out a laugh. “My sister
was singing about bootys today. That’s a word I don’t use.”

“What would you call it?”

“I’m coming over to look at your etchings. Then, if you feel
so inclined, you can show me your bedroom. Or your recliner. Even the living
room floor. I’m not all that choosy.”

“Guys usually aren’t.” She hesitated again then murmured,
“Sixteen Slate Avenue. I’ll leave the door unlocked. I’m upstairs in my
studio…first room on the left on the second floor.”

“All right. You good with wine?”

“Sure, if you have some.”

He didn’t, but he’d lie. And hope to God there was a liquor
store still open at this hour. “What connoisseur of fine food and drink doesn’t
keep a few bottles of wine on hand?”

“You don’t have any, do you?”

“No.” He hopped into his jeans. “But I’ll find some, don’t
worry.”

“I’m not worried. I’d rather you just bring you.”

He eased a hip on the bed, his discarded T-shirt hanging
limply in his hand. Funny how she could make the most simple thing sound so
sweet. “I’ll find wine,” he said, depressing the end button.

Depending how this night went, he owed Lonny James a debt.
He owed him for being goddamned stupid enough to throw away a woman like Karyn.

* * * * *

Karyn didn’t change her clothes. Above all, she didn’t want
to be obvious. Although remaining in what she wore to paint sent a pretty
distinct message too.

Her usual painting attire consisted of leggings and a smock.
Just
leggings and a smock. No shirt, no underwear or bra. She liked to
feel unencumbered and this way her arms remained free. She also got a secret
thrill from the rough material of the smock rubbing against her nipples. So
secret she’d never admitted it to herself before this very moment.

Nerves threatened to overwhelm her as she waited for Jeff to
arrive, so she made herself focus on her painting. She’d run out of both blue
and green paint but she still had a lot of orange and yellow. The colors mixed
and swirled, exploding upward from a thin green reed. She’d intended to paint
flowers, something to chase away the early winter gloom. But she’d created a
single flower instead, its narrow stem barely strong enough to hold the
enormous bulb blossoming across the canvas.

“Metaphor? No.” She drew the word out, smiling.

She certainly felt ready to blossom tonight. If she got
undressed, she knew she’d find her nipples already full and dark and hard. She
could feel them straining against the nubby cloth. They anticipated Jeff’s
arrival as much as the rest of her.

Would she sleep with him, on her anniversary of all days?
Although technically it was nearly 12:30 and therefore not her anniversary
anymore. Good thing it was Sunday. She wouldn’t have to get up early for work.
They could laze around in bed for a while, maybe make breakfast together. If he
stayed that long. She wasn’t up on current booty call protocol.

She supposed she’d be learning soon enough. Strangely, she
couldn’t wait.

When actual painting rather than daydreaming became a futile
aspiration, she started putting away her brushes and cloths. Her phone went off
again in her pocket and she pried it out, smiling at Jeff’s text.

Naked yet?

Her smile widened.

Eager much?

Vry. I’m harder than the frame of ur cottage. U left the
prch lite on for me.

She turned it on every night, but he didn’t know that. He
was hard for her and he liked her leaving on a porch light. Those two things
alone made Jeff Maddox more interesting than any man she’d known in a long
time.

Didn’t want u to get lost. Not when I’m—
she bit her
lip, willing her fingers to move
—as wet as the snow outside.

She felt stupid. So stupid. It had been so long since she’d
flirted, though what she’d just said went way beyond that. But he replied so
fast she blinked.

So how come u arn’t naked?

How do u know I’m not?

I can see u thru ur window. U hve paint in ur hair.

Letting out a laugh, she spun to the window at her side and
pressed her palms against the glass as she looked down. Sure enough, there was
an older car idling in the drive, lights on low beam. Imagining him sitting
inside and looking up at her made her want to get naked for him. Anything to
make their teasing go on longer.

U can’t see me.

No. But made u look.

She grinned.
U did.

Getting out of car. Don’t suppose u’d be willing to slip
ur fingers in ur panties?

When she saw Jeff climb out of his car and glance up, the
urge to please him—and herself—took over. Tonight she wouldn’t deny herself
anything. She’d already had a banner day, jumping from the two lattes she’d had
earlier to unplanned sex. Who knew what else might be in store before dawn
came?

Karyn texted him again, buying herself a moment. Her courage
in this direction hadn’t been tested much.

Watch me.

He looked from her to the phone in his hand then back to
her. His answer was virtually instantaneous.

Already am.

Instead of doing as he’d asked, she eased the side of her
smock aside and slipped her hand underneath, moving it enough that he could get
the idea. Her nipple budded, tightening under her unskilled touch. Excitement coursed
through her veins. She wanted, more than anything, to be taken. And to take.

After giving them both a rather modest show, she sent
another message.

Get up here.

Up won’t be a problm. Promise.

Laughing, she turned back to her easel. She hadn’t yet stowed
away all her paints when heavy, hurried footsteps sounded on the stairs. He
wanted to get to her fast.

“Hey you,” he said, stopping in the doorway.

The smile she had ready for him turned into a frown when she
noticed the state of his hair and shirt. He looked as if someone had dumped a
bucketful of snow over his head. “Oh God.” How ridiculous was it that she’d
been so taken with him that she’d barely noticed the snow? “Is it that bad
out?”

“It’s not good,” he said as she started brushing him off.

“You must’ve been really determined to get here,” she said
as she noticed his gaze sharpening on her attire. Or lack thereof.

“Already I see the trip was worth the hassle.” He set down
the bags he carried on the table next to the door. One was standard-issue paper
from the liquor store. The other bore the name Cedar Hollow Drugstore.

So he’d come prepared to…come.

“Jesus, you’re naked under there.” As if he almost couldn’t
believe it, he fingered the wide strap of her smock, his cold, calloused
fingertip sliding beneath to abrade her skin.

“Jeez, you’re freezing.” She let out a laugh as a shiver
overtook her.

“And you’re still naked.”

“This is how I paint.” She shrugged, not wanting him to
think she’d dressed to seduce. “You’ll warm up quickly in here. I keep the heat
pretty high.”

“To account for the nakedness?”

“Among other reasons, yes,” she agreed with a smile.

She intended to be as honest as possible with him tonight,
and for however many tomorrows they would have. No nasty surprises. If she
slept with him, he’d see that she was just as she said—capable of giving and
receiving pleasure but not a woman who would rock a man’s world.

She’d be happy enough to tip it off its axis a little.

“Yeah?” He glanced around her studio but he didn’t stop
caressing her shoulder. She caught herself raising it, trying to feel just that
much more of his skin on hers. “This is nice. Bet it gets a lot of light.”

She followed his gaze, trying to see the room as he would.
The unpainted beams crisscrossing the ceiling, the low-hanging ceiling fan
decorated with dangling crystals. Sunny yellow walls and bright blue trim made
the space cheerful and the thickly padded window seat encouraged dawdling.

This was her favorite room in the house. Her sanctuary. She
hated the idea of losing her studio. Probably hated it more than losing her
marriage, and didn’t
that
sink to a whole new level of low?

“Yes, especially on summer mornings. I set up my easel by
that window,” she indicated the wide window seat, “or sometimes I take my
sketchpad and sit on the cushions, dreaming.”

“Some dreams,” he said, his attention landing on the
pictures she’d tacked to the big strips of corkboards on the walls. “I don’t
know what most of those are supposed to be,” he said, making her laugh.

“I know. I just like throwing colors together and seeing
what patterns I come up with.”

“So you weren’t a kid who liked to color within the lines.”

“Oh, but I did. I hated to screw up. So the first time I
painted, I decided no rules would apply. I’d just do whatever gave me pleasure.”

Jeff brought his focus back front and center. He edged his
fingertip down to where her arm touched the uppermost part of her breast.
“According to you, pleasure’s not something you worry about a whole lot.”

Her pulse accelerated while his beautiful eyes assessed her
openly. “I believe in truth in advertising,” she said in a husky voice that
didn’t sound altogether like her. She liked it. “I may not rock your world,
Jeff.”

“You think not?” He tugged on the strap of her smock,
eliciting a gasp as the material stimulated her hypersensitive breasts. “And
where’s that coming from? That fucking lout who’s probably balling my baby
sister right now?”

At her wince, he blew out a breath. “Sorry. Awkward.”

“I was wincing for her, not me.” She stepped closer and lifted
her hand to his hair, threading her fingers through the honey oak-colored
strands. “I’m here with you.”

He resumed stroking her shoulder, this time nudging the
strap down. The pad of his thumb darted over her skin, as if he were playing
connect the dots with her freckles. “You’re sure this is okay?”

“I’ve always had inconsistent periods. I’m on birth
control.”