Unexpectedly Yours(15)

"Sure." He gave her a close look but said nothing more as he helped her  carry their food out to the porch stretching along the back of the  house.

"This is great," he mumbled appreciatively as he munched on his second  sandwich. "Wish I had your cooking skills. Otto's been complaining about  the dinners I make for him, but I don't want him eating takeout every  night."

"When are you heading back to L.A. exactly?"

"End of next week." He swallowed his bite. "I need to find a care  assistant for Otto, but so far no luck. He's hated all the ones I've  interviewed so far."

"I can keep an eye on him, if you like. When you're gone." The thought  of Derek going took the flavor away from her sandwich for a few moments.

"I can't let you do that. You've got enough to deal with."

"It's a plan B, in case plan A doesn't work out."

He considered that for a while, then nodded. "Okay. Plan B, but I really need plan A to work before I go."

Again her stomach clenched. Why was this happening? A few days ago she'd  been filled with dismay that her one-night stand had showed up again.  Now, she was filled with dread at the thought of him going. What was up  with her?   





 

"Will you miss me when I'm gone?" Derek asked, his voice soft.

She started as if she'd been caught red-handed. Were her thoughts that transparent? She really needed to cultivate a poker face.

"Of course." She forced herself to sound lighthearted. "Who's going to knock down wasp nests and paint my walls for me?"

"Not to mention buy you mojitos and dance with you." His eyes gleamed.

Memories triggered flutters in her stomach. "Oh, yeah, your dancing is very memorable."

"I put a lot of effort into my moves." He shifted his arm until his hand  was almost touching hers on the porch boards. "My dancing moves, that  is."

And she was putting a lot of effort into looking nonchalant. She needed a  distraction. As she turned away, a movement in the nearby bushes caught  her attention. A gray-and-white cat appeared and squinted at them with  suspicious yellow eyes.

"Oh, it's you again, is it?" Hannah said to Derek, "I noticed him the  first time I inspected the house. And he was hanging around the yard  this morning, too." Bending closer, she made a soft purring noise at the  mangy-looking animal. "Here kitty-kitty," she murmured. The cat bared  its fangs at her.

"That's no kitty. Looks more like a snarly old alley cat."

"He does look like he's been in the wars." The cat was no best-in-show  feline. He had one torn ear, a scar over one eye, and he bristled with  disgust, wary of them but not afraid.

"He doesn't have a collar, and he seems cautious of people, so I'm  thinking he's a stray, and this house must be part of his territory."  Hannah pinched off a piece of ham and threw it at the animal. The cat  pounced on the morsel, then bounded back to his hiding place under the  bushes.

"I know, I know," Hannah said as she caught Derek's eye. "I shouldn't feed a stray or it'll hang around all the time."

"I wasn't going to say that." He rested his chin in his hand. "I was a  stray once, and you fed me and I ended up hanging around your place  almost permanently."

Her heart squeezed. "But you're not a stray anymore," she said softly,  keeping her gaze on the snarly cat. "You have a home, a business, a TV  career, and … " Women like Marla Beaudry to keep you company. Now why did  she have to think that? She pressed her lips in annoyance. She didn't  want to dwell on Derek and other women.

She hauled herself to her feet, and the cat dashed from sight. "I should  get going. My shift starts in half an hour, and I need to clean myself  up."

He stood too. "I'll stay here and put in a few more hours."

She started to protest, but the look on his face was adamant, so she gave up. "Thank you, Derek."

"I'll see you again tomorrow morning?"

"Yes."

Her heart shouldn't be lifting at the thought of seeing him again. She  shouldn't be looking forward to spending time with him. She had planned  to avoid him as much as possible, but that was clearly not working out.





Chapter Eight

The next morning, Derek was already at the rental house when she arrived  there. His face lit up as he spotted her, and she couldn't help her  stomach flipping at the sight of him.

As he stepped off the porch, a gray-and-white blur dashed away.

"Is that our stray?" she asked.

Derek nodded. "I've been making friends with him over a saucer of milk, but he's still very twitchy."

"I brought an extra can of tuna today," she admitted.

"Knew you wouldn't be able to resist. Let's wait until lunchtime, though. We've still got a lot to do."

The way he said "we" gave an extra bounce to her step. She valued her  independence, but it was great having Derek help her with the house. Not  that she was depending on him for anything. His future lay far away  from her and Pine Falls. He was a rising TV star, with lots of money and  celebrity friends, while she was a struggling nursing student, with  barely a roof over her head.

They got to work and tackled the bedroom. Hannah had chosen a soft,  creamy color that she hoped would give her tranquil dreams. She tried to  concentrate on her painting, but it was impossible with Derek's  distinctive, compelling physique, especially in such a small room. It  seemed she was constantly bumping into him, and she wasn't sure if her  subconscious was doing it on purpose. The constant brush of his body  against hers left her in a state of tingling torment and desire, and  caused her several painting mishaps. Judging by the glimmer in Derek's  eyes, she was sure he was fully aware of his effect on her, too. When  she eventually slept in this bedroom, she knew she'd be visited by  sweet, tortuous dreams of Derek.   





 

It was almost a relief to break for lunch. Once again, they carried  their food out onto the back porch where it was sunny, warm, and  private.

Hannah opened the tin of tuna she'd brought for the stray. The cat was  nowhere in sight, but he would come soon enough when he got a whiff of  their food.

"Hey, pecan pie." Derek beamed as he lifted the pie dish from the cooler. "You made it for me?"

She'd gotten up early today to make the pie for him, but she wasn't going to admit that. "Just my way of saying thanks."

He lowered the dish between them. "There are other ways of saying  thanks." His gaze drifted to her lips, leaving her in no doubt what he  had in mind. "Ways just as sweet and tasty as pecan pie."

Her trigger-happy desire surged again as she imagined his lips on hers. "God, Derek, I thought we were keeping things platonic."

"I thought so too, but you brought pecan pie."

"Pecan pie? That's a turn on?"

"Well, yeah. That, and those shorts you're wearing." His gaze lowered to  the denim cutoffs hugging her hips. "I think you put on those  itty-bitty shorts on purpose just to torture me, didn't you?"

She gulped. "It's a hot day, and they were the only shorts I had." Liar.  She had other, more modest shorts, but for some reason she'd chosen  these tight-fitting cutoffs with the frayed hem. Again, she blamed her  subconscious.

He snickered at her, and she knew she wasn't fooling anyone. "You're  right. It is a hot day. In fact, it's so hot I think I need to do this."  He stretched his arm behind his neck, gripped his T-shirt, and pulled  it off in one swoop. Tossing aside the T-shirt, he stretched out in the  sun. "Ah, yeah. That feels so much better."

Her mouth fell open, and she might have made a choking sound. Her  eyeballs felt like they were on stalks as she gawked at Derek's naked  torso. What a magnificent sight. Sunlight bounced off his smooth pecs  and bulging biceps. His chest was a drool-worthy sculpture of muscle and  sinew. He didn't have an ounce of fat on him. Hard, broad shoulders  narrowed to lean hips showcased by his low-slung jeans. Grungy,  paint-flecked denim, but oh so sexy on him.

He rubbed his chest, drawing her attention to the trail of fine, dark  hair that tracked down the center of his body. "What's the matter,  babe?"

Babe. Heat seeped through her pores. Just one "babe" from him, and she was already melting.

"Uh, n-nothing," she managed to stutter. For the life of her, she still couldn't tear her eyes away from him.

"See something you like?"

She was almost panting now. Dammit, he was so devilishly tempting, but she was not going to cave in.

"Yes, I do." She leaned toward him, slow and deliberate, until his eyes  widened and he licked his lips in anticipation. Then she stretched her  arm across him, brushing against his naked chest, and grabbed a bottle  of iced tea. "This is what I'd like."

She twisted the cap off and tipped a deep gulp of liquid down her  throat. When she lowered the bottle, Derek was grinning at her.

"Nice move. You play hard."