“You need a jump?”
The gruff question snapped her head up. John stood shirtless, his dark hair sleep-tossed, bare feet buried in her yard. He had zero excess flab anywhere. A sprinkling of ebony hair on his chest narrowed to a downward point and her eyes automatically followed it. The top button on his jeans was unsnapped, as if he’d just pulled them on after rolling out of bed.
Oh, no, all I need is to let the stud-muffin play
knight in battery-charged armor.
Livvy opened her mouth to lie and say she’d already called for Inez Kelley
13
help, then realized how late she was. It was him or wait for a rescue that could take up to an hour.
Even more than the lost time, she really couldn’t afford the mechanic charges. Like a huge bite of day-old bread, the acceptance stuck in her throat.
“Yeah, thanks.”
“No problem. Just let me grab my keys.”
Livvy caught herself staring and yanked her gaze away. Man-candy, he was just man-candy.
Nothing she could sink her teeth into.
Well, she could. But it would all be empty calories. Calories she didn’t need. Not to mention cavities.
She called the bakery. By the time she clicked the phone closed, John’s truck was growling to life. He pulled nose to nose with her little Subaru and hopped out, leaving the driver’s door open.
Livvy popped her hood and climbed from her seat, the morning heat sticking her shirt to her back.
He’d snapped his jeans and put on a shirt with a brewery logo so faded she couldn’t read it. His feet were still bare and, for some reason, that made her smile.
He stopped at the edge of his bumper, yellow jumper cables in hand. “Damn, Livvy, you keep smiling at me like that and I’m going to get the wrong idea.”
And this is why I should never have allowed my
AAA to expire despite the cost.
“The only wrong 14
Sweet as Sin
idea you could get is that I like you. Now please, do the jumpy-thing here so I can get to work.”
John seemed unmoved by her declaration. “On the Fourth of July? What do you do?”
“I’m a pastry chef. I own the Sugar Shack down on Lexington so yes, I work on holidays, some anyway.”
“Cake frosting.” His murmur sounded like a sinful caress.
She made sure ice coated her voice. “Yeah, sugar and spice and everything nice, that’s me.”
Something wicked brewed in his gaze,
something tinged with a playfulness that enticed her. She waited for his flirtatious comeback.
Instead, he shook his head with a slight chuckle.
“No comment.” He raised the truck hood and crooked his finger. “You can’t reach from over there, come here.”
“Can’t you just do it? I don’t know how.”
“I could but I’m not going to.” His gaze raked from her toes to her hairline. “Somehow, Livvy, you don’t strike me as the damsel-in-distress type.
So come over here and let me teach you so you can save your own ass next time.”
Firming her jaw, she crossed to him and had to stand on her toes to peer into the belly of his half-ton beast. Exhaust-scented heat blasted her face.
A frown pulled at her mouth. It was so gross in there.
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15
“First things first.” John’s voice rumbled with a hidden tease. “Please tell me you know what the battery is.” Livvy gritted her teeth in annoyance but pointed at the square top. He nodded. “Good girl, half the battle’s already won. Take the connectors. Red is positive, black is negative, okay? Now, find the negative terminal.”
Livvy stared. Terminal? Well, the things in her hand looked like alligator clamps so they had to grab onto something. The two sticking-up things looked like likely candidates. They even had a plus and minus sign on them. She pointed to the minus sign.
“Right. Now, hook it up, black to negative.”
She tucked her lip between her teeth and did it.
“Now, red to positive.” The second clamp
followed.
“Is that right?”
“Yep. It’s not rocket science. If you can bake a cake, you can charge a battery. Let’s move to step two.” He handed her the ends of the cables.
“Don’t let those ends touch now. They’re live.
And don’t touch any metal on the car.”
Her gaze followed the long yellow cord back to his truck. The thing was so big it looked like it could eat her little Subaru in one chomping bite. A niggle of fear formed in her stomach. “Uh, Murphy, couldn’t this be dangerous?”
16
Sweet as Sin
John grinned. “Sure. Couldn’t making cookies be dangerous if you didn’t know how to operate an oven?”
“I guess so.”
“Livvy, I’m not going to let you get shocked, I promise.” One hand pressed along the small of her back, propelling her closer to her car. The feel of his palm struck her like a slap. Curving along the dip of her spine, his touch was innocent and friendly, not the least bit sexual, but still tingles darted into her bloodstream. Her lips pursed with a silent exhale and she looked up.
His brows were drawn, frowning at her engine.
“Hold up. How old is this battery?”
“I don’t know. It came with the car so I guess, four or five years maybe?”
His hand left her back and he moved to the side of his truck. Her shoulders slumped at the loss.
The silver toolbox lid clanged shut and John reappeared with a stained red rag and a small piece of wrinkled sandpaper.
“Your terminals are corroded.”
Livvy bent over the engine with him, leaning on the warm frame but holding the connectors away from any metal. Her eyes searched his face for any ulterior motives but there was nothing there but concentration. In fact, other than that first comment, he hadn’t flirted once.
“Why are you helping me?”
Inez Kelley
17
“Isn’t that what neighbors do?” He sanded the terminals, fine rusty flakes falling in a shower, then straightened and wiped his hands on the rag.
She stood and their eyes met. Neither moved.
John’s voice dropped to an intimate caress. “Okay, do your thing. Black then red.”
It was important for her to do this right while he watched but she didn’t examine why too closely. She clamped the proper connectors onto the right poles and jumped back, looking for his approval. He nodded. “Now, fire her up, see if she catches.”
Livvy sent a short prayer before turning the key. When the engine roared to life, she felt like squealing. She bounded out of the vehicle, grinning. “I did it!”
“You sure did.” John leaned on his bumper, crossed his ankles and tossed her the red rag. “Let her run a minute before unhooking them.”
“Thanks, Murphy.” She scrubbed at a smudge of black along her finger. “Sorry my sputtering car woke you.”
“Nah, I had just gone to bed. I tried to get some work done last night.”
“Work? What do you do?”
At first she thought he wasn’t going to answer.
He stared straight into the car engine, not moving.
His Adam’s apple bobbed and he licked his lips slowly. “I worked in construction, but now I write 18
Sweet as Sin
full time. At least I do when the damn story talks to me. That isn’t happening right now.”
“Write? What do you write?”
He shrugged and his nose twitched.
He’s
embarrassed.
Searching her mind, she couldn’t recall seeing titles with his name. Perhaps he wasn’t a very successful writer.
“Dark urban fantasy. You know, demons,
werewolves, stuff like that.” He drew a breath, fingertips tucked into his front pockets. “I write under the name J. B. Flannigan.”
“Oh my God! You write Jondi?”
Dumbfounded, Livvy stared at him. Jondi and his monster friends were heralded as America’s answer to Harry Potter. The Young Adult fantasy series had swept the nation like a firestorm and become a literary sensation. She’d stood in line with Andrea last winter to buy the third book in the series the day it came out.
Jondi, a shaggy blue monster with bright green sneakers and ball cap, captured the spirit of innocence. His best friend was Thorn, a six-foot bat with red eyes and wicked fangs. In Book One, Thorn had frightened and terrorized the New Woods of Gillimat until Jondi befriended him.
Now the two were inseparable, one gentle and kind, the other menacing and frightening but loyal to the death. Embraced by schoolchildren and parents alike, some claimed the content too dark, Inez Kelley
19
too frightening, but good always triumphed and the morals somehow got through. The darkness hid a tale of hope. Livvy wondered if the same was true for the author.
A hint of bitterness crept into his tone.
“Supposedly anyway. I have a bit of writer’s block.”
Somehow, the admission was for so much
more. The look that had crossed his face had been two-fold—misery and terror. A surge of
unexpected protectiveness swept through her and she desperately wanted his flippant arrogance back, anything to erase his troubles.
She hummed with a teasing smile. “The Master of Monsters here on Elmcrest Drive. Well, well, I’m in the company of greatness.”
His eyes shot to hers, pain almost hidden, and he winked. “The Master bit was my publisher’s work, not mine, but if you want greatness, we’ll talk later.”
The flirtation was so blatant it was intoxicating, and it had been so long since she’d had a drink.
Thirstily, she drank in the sight of him. His nearly blue-black hair gleamed in the morning sunshine, and a slight widow’s peak accentuated his greedy eyes. Deep marks framed his mouth, laugh lines she might have called them on anyone else, but not his. No, on this man they were more like scars, imprints from gritting his teeth and staring down 20
Sweet as Sin
an enemy. Her tongue ached to flick out and glide along each groove.
She made the mistake of looking into his eyes.
A spark ignited that had nothing to do with the jumper cables. John pushed off the bumper and stepped into her space. Warmth from his chest beckoned and her nipples puckered, straining to get closer. A rich masculine scent wafted from his skin. She sucked in a breath, drawing him deeper inside.
I really have to stop lusting after the neighbor I
don’t like.
“Are your eyes real?”
She angled her head up as if her senses weren’t thrumming like a guitar string. Bravado came out bitchy. “No, I got them out of a Cracker Jack box.
Of course, they’re real.”
“I meant are you wearing colored contacts?
I’ve never met anyone with violet eyes before.”
“My eyes are grayish blue. They just pick up whatever color I’m wearing. I like purple.” It was hard to be snotty when the reason for her damp panties stood before her, but she tried. His gaze caressed her, leaving her buzzing with awareness.
“They’re beautiful.”
“Thank you. Are we done here then?”
“Maybe I’m just starting.”
Inez Kelley
21
Soft as dandelion fluff, his claim barely reached her ears. She chose to pretend it hadn’t.
“Can I unhook now?”
“Sure.” She turned and reached for one
connector when his hand grasped hers. Awareness ignited through her as he leaned over her, his body touching hers in intimate places. Hot breath brushed her cheek. “Red first. I wouldn’t want you to get a shock or anything.”
A volcano erupted, scorching want searing her skin and choking her breath. Chocolate lava cake was one of her weaknesses and this temptation had all the same ingredients—sinful extravagance, decadent flavors and wicked enjoyment. Every time she indulged, she spent the night with an upset stomach. Lesson learned.
She unhooked the clamps and tossed them at him. “You unhook your own truck. I have to get to work.”
“Get a battery,” he called, lowering the Subaru hood as she climbed behind the wheel. “Unless you want me to jump you again.”
His suggestive tone firmed her jaw. She leaned out her window and shook her head. “You know, Murphy, I like you better when you aren’t flirting.”
“So you admit you do like me.” His smile
dimmed the sun.
She gave an unladylike snort. “No comment.”
22
Sweet as Sin
As she pulled away, she could have sworn he was whistling the theme song from
Mr. Rogers’
Neighborhood
and her grin erupted.
The silly, happy mood stayed with her all day.
It bolstered her through arguing with supply companies and juggling payments. She even smiled through sending overdue payment
reminders. Just after lunchtime, one of her employees entered the kitchen with a small folded paper. “Some guy just dropped this off for you.”
Livvy pulled her hands from the bread dough bin and wiped them on a damp cloth before reaching for the note. Brisk, bold ink strokes brought a heat to her face that rivaled the ovens behind her.
New battery installed but I’m flexible. Call me
if you ever want jumped.—J. M.
“You catch my backyard on fire and I’ll kick your butt all the way back to your apartment.” Livvy laughed as Tow leaped back from the spitting flames. His short blond hair sparkled nearly white in the setting sun, almost as bright as his dazzling smile.
“Oops. Too much lighter fluid.”
Tow added more burgers and she sighed.
Jealousy was something bitter in her mouth, a foreign taste. Her sister was a very lucky woman.
She’d found a great guy. George Prescott, Inez Kelley
23
nicknamed Tow for his ultra-pale towhead, was long and lean. An avid runner, he’d literally bumped into Andrea one morning and the rest was history. Of course, they were nauseatingly perfect together, like Barbie and Ken on crack. Livvy loved to tease them that their children would have pink hair. There was only so much perfection a woman could stomach.
“What are you smiling at?” Tow strolled over.
Seated at the round wooden picnic table, Livvy sliced and diced ripe cantaloupe into a large bowl, discarding the rind into a plastic bag. “How much you look like a high-priced boy-toy.”
He chuckled at her familiar jibe. “Well, I
can
be bought. You didn’t happen to bring home any of your chocolate-raspberry torte, did you?”