“Mmm.” Another long beat of silence. “For a while now.”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth. It was time to get the real picture, stat. Then he could return to his story world, never to be bothered by the mystery of her again, because she would no longer be a mystery.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Cleo.”
He imagined her saying it, and realized the last syllable would leave her lips in the shape of an open-mouthed kiss. Pervert, he scolded himself. You shouldn’t be thinking of Betty Crocker and French kisses in the same breath. Learning she collected Social Security should shut that down. He cleared his throat. “How old are you, Cleo?”
“Hmm?” She sounded distracted, like maybe she was mentally counting the doilies in her living room. “Oh, I’m twenty-eight.”
Reed froze. Twenty-eight. Twenty-eight-year-old, my-name’s-like-a-carnal-kiss Cleo was a stone’s throw from him. A distracting distance for any single man who thought about sex thirty-seven times a day and every seven seconds when the writing wasn’t going well. Shit.
She wasn’t his type, he decided on an instant. Thinking back, it was unclear he had a type, but surely she wasn’t it. Certainly not. “What do you…what do you look like?” he ventured asking.
“Me?” Her chair squeaked as if she was preparing to get up.
He needed to know before she went back into her bungalow. “Yeah. You know,” he said, keeping his voice casual. “Hair. Eye color. That sort of thing.”
“I’m blonde.”
Hell. He loved blondes.
“Brown eyes.”
Maybe he made a noise, because there was a sudden alertness from the other side of the fence. But brown eyes were his favorite. He pictured them now, a warm, beautiful shade. “And the rest?” That came out less than casual, he knew it right off. Instead, it sounded strangled, just like he felt when thinking about the distracting blonde, brown-eyed, single woman just a few steps away from his sanctuary.
“Oh. Well.” There was a beat of silence and then she laughed a little. Breathily. “I’m…tallish…and you can see a lot of my long, long legs because I’m wearing very, very short-short shorts. You know, the tight kind? My top is tight too, real clingy over my big, double, um, D’s.”
Double D’s? His eyes popped open and then they cinched low as he caught her snickers from the other side of the fence. “Very funny,” he groused.
“G’night, neighbor,” she said, still laughing. “Until next time.”
Buy Break On Through
Christie Ridgway’s Book List
Rock Royalty
Light My Fire
Love Her Madly
Break on Through
First Comes Love
Then Comes Marriage
Must Love Mistletoe
Not Another New Year's
Out on a Limb
The Three Kisses Trilogy
Crush on You
Then He Kissed Me
Can't Hurry Love
Malibu & Ewe Knitting Trilogy
How to Knit a Wild Bikini
Unravel Me
Dirty Sexy Knitting
The Wisegirls
An Offer He Can't Refuse
The Care and Feeding of Unmarried Men
Wish You Were Here
This Perfect Kiss
Do Not Disturb
About the Author
Christie Ridgway is the author of over forty-five novels of contemporary romance. All her books are both sexy and emotional and tell about heroes and heroines who learn to believe in the power of love. A USA Today bestseller, Christie is a six-time RITA finalist and has won best contemporary romance of the year and career achievement awards from Romantic Times Book Reviews.
A native of California, Christie now resides in the southern part of the state with her family. Inspired by the beaches, mountains, and cities that surround her, she writes tales of sunny days and steamy nights. For a complete list of books, excerpts, and news on the latest going on with Christie:
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