Sex Symbol (7 page)

I took a few steps toward the fence and froze. I probably shouldn’t go closer, didn’t want to sneak up on him.

“Excuse me.”

To my surprise he turned in my direction. I knew in that instant that my heart would never be the same. That is if I ever pried it loose from my throat. Brown hair long enough to reach his eyes was brushed back by a long-fingered hand. This movement caused his biceps to flex and gave me a tantalizing view of the muscles down his side. Well, as far as I could see down his side considering that the fence was in my way.

Honey-brown eyes looked questioningly back into mine and I hadn’t the slightest idea what to say next. He smiled and my heart wasn’t the only thing that leapt this time. He had nice, even white teeth that somehow reminded me of the wolf. Ah, that’s what I could talk about!

“I saw a…” I searched for the right word. I still wasn’t comfortable with the thought of a werewolf being in my yard. “I saw a big animal out here last night and just wanted to be sure you were okay.”

“That’s nice of you…”

“Lucy. Lucy Harper.”

“Lucy,” he repeated. The way he smiled made me wonder if he planned to eat me for pleasure or for dinner. But there was no doubt he wanted to eat me. You just don’t mistake a grin like that.

He opened the gate that separated us and opened my mind to a whole new world of fantasies. He was smudged here and there with dirt and a fine sheen of sweat was visible on his sun-bronzed skin. Dark hair spread over his chest and then trailed off in a perfect line that ran all the way to the top of his pants.

Those jeans! They cupped his package better than a pair of hands, showing his shape the way only well-worn jeans ever could. And practically begging the question, “Is there any room for me in there?”

“Eramus Creed,” he said, extending his hand in greeting.

I could feel the strength in the hand that gripped mine and led me two steps into his yard. The hole had been filled and he was planting roses.

“Eramus,” I repeated. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

“It was my grandfather’s name.”

“That’s nice.”

He hooked one thumb in the waist of his pants, causing them to tug down only slightly. Just enough to reveal a bit more of his well-sculpted hipbone. I rubbed a hand against my lips absently to check for drool.

“How about you, Lucy, were you named after anyone?”

“Yes. I was named after the Bram Stoker character. You know, the one Dracula kills almost as soon as he arrives in London.”

We both laughed, only his sounded natural and mine sounded nervous. His voice was a nice warm baritone that practically vibrated along my spine. Involuntarily I took a step toward him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself sooner, but you seemed very busy.”

“Yes, I hope I haven’t appeared rude. It’s a storm shelter,” he said, indicating the gigantic patch of ground that was only visible because of the fresh sod.

“Really? Well, that’s a relief. I thought you had a lot of bodies to hide.” Shit. Now my laughter was really nervous. Way to break the ice. Why don’t I go ahead and ask if he’s crazy?

But Eramus laughed at my bad joke like he thought it was really funny.

“I enjoy a sense of humor,” he said. “And since you appear to have one, maybe you’ll like my garden.”

At this I laughed too. “Why, what’s wrong with your garden?”

He indicated the roses behind him and I took a closer look. Some were propped against the fence looking hopeless. Others were larger and more healthy. Judging by their tags, there were all sorts of varieties, climbers, ground cover, bush roses, you name it.

“Looks like you’ve got quite a variety.”

“And I have no clue how to take care of them or where exactly they should go.”

I loved to garden, so I was distracted from his gorgeous body long enough to consider the layout of his yard.

“What are you trying to do?”

“I’d like to make a rose garden over the shelter. You see, I don’t want it to look like an obvious place for a shelter.” He laughed and this time he sounded a bit nervous. “I know that sounds like I’m crazy. My last home was destroyed by storms and I lost some valuables. I’d like a place to store something besides myself in the event of a hurricane and I’d like for it to be safe.”

That made sense and helped to put me at ease.

“Then why tell me?”

His smile was going to give me a heart attack. “Because you already knew it was here. Besides, this place could use a woman’s touch.” The look in his eyes gave away something, I was sure of it. Although I wasn’t quite sure what it gave away. “That is if I’m not imposing. I saw you coming out of your shop the other day and figured out you were a decorator. If this place is ever going to look decent, I’m afraid I’ll need some help.” When I didn’t immediately respond he asked, “Are you up for it?”

“Sure.”

“And you’re positive that your boyfriend won’t mind?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

That sounded desperate. I could have kicked myself.

Eramus raised a brow. “Then who was the man I saw leaving your house this morning?” He immediately corrected himself. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”

“It’s all right. That was my friend Ozzy. We’re close, but he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Good. Then if you have no objections, could you help me decide where the hell to put these roses?”

After about thirty minutes I had it all laid out. Roses would ring the large square above his shelter. Shorter shrub roses were near the middle with climbers along the sides, which I informed him would need trellises. Most of the roses were already two or more years old. This would make the garden look fairly well established once he got them all in the ground. I got the impression that Eramus wanted to look like he’d been here for a while.

At his insistence, he did all the work. So, while he moved the roses to my specifications I talked.

“How did you build the shelter so fast?”

“It’s a pre-made insert. I had it put down early this morning.”

Well, that would explain the machinery I’d heard.

“The door is right over here,” he said, walking to stand over the only piece of ground not covered by sod. “I’m thinking of putting a bench over it.”

“It would be better hidden if you put a planter with some of the smaller roses on top of it. No one thinks to look under flower pots unless they’re looking for a key.”

He smiled. “See, I knew you were the person to ask about this.”

What was I doing? What was it exactly that I was helping this stranger to hide? He seemed sincere enough. Was he really hiding valuables?

“My friends and I are having a barbeque this afternoon. You’re welcome to join us. I mean, if you don’t you’ll just have to be over here smelling it all.”

He laughed and I realized I was really starting to enjoy the sound.

“That sounds nice. Should I bring anything?”

“Just yourself.” I could feel my face burning again. My voice had taken on a husky quality and the thought of him showing up in nothing at all was making my heart go crazy again.

“I should probably put on a shirt then,” he teased.

“Don’t bother on my account.”

I was flirting shamelessly. I had never been shy, but I normally wasn’t so forward either. But Eramus didn’t seem to mind. He was pretty forward himself and I liked that quality in a man.

His grin was the reward for my boldness.

“We’ll start cooking in a few hours, but you can come over whenever you’d like. As a matter of fact, I should probably go attempt to fix my hair.”

“It’s beautiful,” he said. His voice melted me like a candle thrown into a bonfire. “Is it natural?”

It was a question I’d heard often enough. Not many people had naturally “flaming” red hair. But Eramus’ question was different somehow. The look in his eyes said he wasn’t asking if my hair color came from a box, but what color decorated mine.

“Yes.”

Breathless is the best way to describe how I sounded. But he didn’t appear to notice or didn’t care. Perhaps he knew the effect he had on me and was enjoying the show. Either way his smile did not waver and neither did the look in his eyes.

I took a deep breath to try to calm myself, but instead I breathed in his scent and my libido kicked into overdrive.

“What cologne are you wearing?”

“I’m not,” he said.

“Come on, no one works up a sweat and smells that good without cologne.”

Eramus put his hands on his hips and I admired the way his forearms flexed just right. He was perfect. Not in the traditional sense of the word, without flaws. But rather it was his flaws that made him perfect. For example, the fine laugh lines at the corners of his mouth didn’t make him look old, they gave him character. The fact that his hair wasn’t fixed and still looked sexy also added to his appeal. And man, did he ever smell good!

“Well, apparently I do,” he teased.

“I’ll see you in a little while then.”

He didn’t say goodbye, but nodded his acceptance of my words.

I managed to walk calmly back to my house, didn’t trip on my way up the steps and didn’t look back even though I could feel him watching me. The minute I closed the door I collapsed against it.

“Holy shit.”

I immediately called Justina and gave her all the details. She was down at the store with our new employee, Mandy. We had yet to leave her to run the place on her own, but planned to do so today.

“How is everything going?” I asked.

“Fine. I really think Mandy can do this on her own now. Listen, I’ve got the stuff to make either potato salad or mashed potatoes. Which do you want?”

“Um, either one is fine.”

She laughed. “What are you doing?”

“What makes you think I’m doing something?”

“Because you sound excited and I know it’s not about potatoes. Are you watching your neighbor again?”

I practically squealed. “No, I invited him to our barbeque.”

“What? Is he coming?”

“Yes.”

“Well now that you’ve met him, what’s his name? I’m getting tired of coming up with things to call him.”

“His name is Eramus.”

“He said the place needs a woman’s touch?” Justina asked. “That’s something an old lady says when she wants her son to get married.”

She laughed as I scolded her mildly. “You butthole, he meant he needed help decorating. It wasn’t like that at all.”

“Still, it’s not something I’d expect a man to say.” She paused. “Then again, I’m impressed when they get beyond ‘duh’ sometimes.”

I laughed then. “Well, you do tend to be attracted to conversationalists.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Yep. I think it’s nice for a man to actually want help decorating.”

We went on to talk about what ingredients we still needed for the cookout and other various things before returning to the subject of Eramus.

“Why do you suppose it’s so important to him?” Justina asked.

“Potato salad?”

“No, I mean why do you think Eramus wants the place to look so…established? It sounds to me like he wants to look like he’s been there for a while.”

She was right. “You noticed that too, huh? Maybe he’s just eager to have a new start. He did say that his last home was destroyed by storms or it could be obsessive-compulsive disorder.”

I could hear her jingling her keys and knew she was getting ready to leave the shop. Justina had a routine. Put her keys down immediately when she got to work, never in the same place. Then spend thirty minutes bitching about not being able to find her keys before leaving. Since she’d been talking to me for almost that long I guess she decided to skip the bitching today.

“OCD, huh? You mean like you get when everything is not in its place?”

“Exactly. Maybe he just wants it all done so that he can relax.”

“That could be.”

We wrapped up our conversation with me telling her again how much better the view was up close rather than over the fence. I went upstairs and took a look in the mirror. Eramus was right about my hair, it really wasn’t that bad. I’d fallen asleep with it wet and it was hanging in a million curls down to the middle of my back. I decided to skip the hair and go straight to makeup, putting on a little powder and some black eyeliner. There, all ready for company.

Since Eramus had done all of the work with the roses, I didn’t need to change clothes either. I was thinking of sitting down with a good book for a few minutes when my doorbell rang.

“Who is it?” I called on my way down the stairs.

“Hurry up, these peanuts are heavy.”

“You’re early,” I said, opening the door for Chase.

He walked through to my kitchen and set down several heavy-looking bags before checking his watch.

“No I’m not.”

He strutted over to the french doors and gazed unabashedly toward the house next door.

“Where’s Mr. Universe?”

I smiled. “If he’s not outside, he must be getting ready to come over here.”

“Oh, so you did work up the nerve to talk to him. There’s my girl.” He patted me on the shoulder as he spoke, but never turned his attention away from the house beside mine. “The roses are pretty, but I was hoping for a man in tight-fitting jeans.”

“How about you help me make this punch?”

Chase continued to watch the window, but did spare an occasional glance to see what I was doing.

“Could you look in that cabinet and hand me down the molds you find there?”

Watching him try to maneuver through my overstuffed cabinets and still look out the window was hilarious. He snagged his hair on the door knob when he turned too fast, but tried to quickly hide this by running a hand through his brown locks. Chase batted his eyes, a nervous habit I hadn’t seen in a while, and handed me the metal pans I’d asked for.

“All I can find is this lobster and a couple of stars.”

I filled the molds with water and set them into the freezer compartment.

“You’re going to use a lobster mold?”

“Why not? We’ll need something to keep the punch cold and it’s the biggest one I have.”

“You could just fill it up with little stars.”