Product Warnings: Contains a blind therapist who doesn’t consider herself impaired; a meddling, erotic-novel-writing best friend; a hot ex-Marine with a shady past; and a loyal guide dog that howls “I love you” and is probably the sanest one of the bunch.
grabbed hold of his harness and stepped outside.
and blues touched with red swirled around her. After several blinks, her eyes
adjusted to the brightness. She pointed in the direction of the neighboring
door.” A pang of guilt ran through her. She and her former neighbor had been
close until Lauren placed her in a nursing home. It was one of the hardest
things she’d ever done, but when an eighty-five-year-old woman sat in one’s
kitchen butt naked talking about the weather, it left few options.
but she ignored him and sent the poor dog to the backyard. She cringed at the
memory of Mrs. Rourke’s bare skin under her hands when she hugged the old
woman; it was one she wouldn’t soon forget. Since the episode, Lauren made a
concerted effort to pay better attention to her guide dog’s whimpers and barks.
way across the lawn. Once at the door, Jack sat down and waited for her to do
the rest. Taking a deep gulp of fresh Denver air, she held it for a few seconds
before slowly releasing.
the doorbell and pressed the plastic control. A few dozen doorbell presses
later, realization hit. If he’s banging
away in there, how’s he going to hear the doorbell? She slammed her
knuckles into the wood for what seemed like an eternity but still no response.
man’s, they shared a common backyard.
back. Together, they marched into their townhouse, through the living room, and
out the backdoor. Jack guided them across the lawn, straight to the offender’s
patio. She banged her knuckles against the glass pane. After they were raw and
felt like they were on fire, his hammering stopped. A few minutes later, she
heard the sound of plastic blinds shifting. Lauren plastered on her biggest
smile and waved. Metal slid against wood and the door opened.
sandalwood mixed with cedar filled her lungs. It was the same scent she’d
gotten whiffs of the past four weeks since he’d moved in.
soft Southern drawl flowed through her skin, warming her face. The image of a
shirtless man in a cowboy hat and jeans leaning against the doorjamb popped
into her head. For a moment, she forgot why she’d come.
amusement in his voice pulled her out of her cowboy fantasy.
reminding her they were there on business, not to drool. “I live in the
townhouse next to yours.”
the park in the evenings.” From the angle of his voice, he sounded about six
feet tall. She could hear the smile in his words. When he shifted his weight,
the doorjamb squeaked. She wondered if his shoulder leaned against it, like the
half-naked cowboy in her head.
jogging trails.” Her voice came out husky and she caught herself playing with
her hair when she responded.
and grabbed a fistful of her jeans to curb her need to twirl, flick or touch
her hair—or him for that matter.
hats filled her thoughts.
“Would you like to come in?”
palms moistened at the prospect.
continued his flirty tone, successfully melting her organs. “What kind of…favor?” The way he said the word had her
brain exploring all the inappropriate things he could do with her—for her.
for the hundredth time. “I work from home and spend most of the day on the
phone with clients.”
putting in crown molding isn’t helpful, is it?”
and shook her head.
finished with work?”
molding after five…”
number so next time I have a project I can find out your schedule before I
he needed her number. After all, sometimes she did have evening clients. “Okay,
you want to get a pen?”
on Jack’s back and rattled off the digits.
you.” She turned to rush away before she agreed to more than her phone number.
work at five, how would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?’”
From daring escapes by tough women to chivalrous men swooping in to save the day, the creativity switch to Kishan Paul’s brain is always in the “on” position. If daydreaming stories were a college course, Kish would have graduated with honors.