The Guy Next Door Read online

  “Well,” Holly said, lifting her eyes back to him, “I suppose we’ve kept you long enough. You’re probably tired after working in the hot sun all day. But we appreciate the assistance with the car.”

  “Glad I could help you out,” he replied.

  But in truth, he’d suddenly grown anxious to get away. He was still trying to get over his surprise at finding out the pretty schoolteacher had a baby!

  “It was very nice to meet you, Derek,” she said then. And he peered down at her face, shocked that her voice had gone velvet-soft and that she was gazing at him with completely sexy eyes.

  Were these the eyes of a staid schoolteacher? It didn’t seem possible. If she had looked at him like that five minutes ago, he’d definitely have asked her out, tailored shorts or no tailored shorts. But as it was, all he wanted to do was run. And he also wanted her to quit being so pretty and alluring—because it would make the running part much easier.

  “You, too,” he said, backing away, his eyes glued helplessly to the woman before him.

  Yet even as he gazed admiringly at the tempting Holly Blake, his senses taking in all her obvious charms, he still couldn’t quit seeing the bigger picture, the picture which had switched him to run mode, the picture that included the baby in her arms.

  He’d been right in the first place. She definitely wasn’t his type.

  ***

  Holly twisted the knob on the Winnie-the-Pooh mobile above Emily’s bed until the Pooh theme song tinkled merrily forth.

  She sang along with it, tickling Emily as she lay her on the changing table. “Something about a bear…hmm hmm hmm hmm.” Okay, so she didn’t exactly remember all the words. She’d have to make a point of learning them by the time Emily could sing.

  She unbuttoned her daughter’s pale yellow sleeper and extracted the baby’s pudgy legs. Then she removed the wet diaper and slid a new one under Emily’s behind, fastening the tabs and putting the sleeper back in place. “There you go, punkin,” she said, lifting the baby into her arms.

  That was when she caught sight of him, out the window. She released a gasp and became aware of her own heartbeat. “Oh God,” she murmured. “There he is.”

  Derek had changed into a pair of frayed khaki cargo shorts and a clean tee, and he padded barefoot through his yard toward the mailbox.

  She held the baby up to face the window, then quickly laughed at her own actions. Emily was obviously a little too young right now to see what Holly saw. Noting the boredom in the baby’s eyes, which seemed about to close, she lowered Emmy into the baby bed, twisting the mobile once more before the music began to fade. Then she returned to the window. And the man.

  Now he’d begun spraying his lawn, a hose in one hand, a drink can in the other. Letting her eyes pore over the same muscles she’d noticed earlier, she experienced a physical reaction—an undeniable fluttering sensation in her panties.

  He looked so hard, so tough. She’d have bet there wasn’t a soft spot on his entire body. Then she thought of one spot that would be particularly appealing when hard, and another tremor shook her.

  “This isn’t like me,” she said, casting a glance at her daughter. But Emily had already conked out, and it was just as well. It felt weird having such unwholesome feelings with her six-month-old right next to her.

  And still, she couldn’t deny those feelings—they were pumping through her veins like electricity, making her more aware of her own body than she’d been since giving birth.

  She’d never been attracted to that kind of a man before. Tough, rugged men—bad boy types—had never really appealed to her like they had to so many other girls. She’d always been sensible, dating the smart boys: the college-bound debating champion, the winner of the science fair. And she’d never expected to be attracted to a man because of his body, because of his muscles and his tan, because of the beads of sweat that clung to his skin.

  Maybe the tough boys had scared her when she was younger.

  And now apparently that fear had passed. In a big way.

  But hey, hormones are hormones. And there’s a first time for everything. So this is really no big deal.

  Which was good. Because there was no time for a man in her life right now anyway. It was difficult enough being at school all day, grading papers at night, and carving out some quality time to spend with Emily in between. So Derek Cassidy would simply be her neighbor, her fix-it man, her fantasy.

  Wait a minute. Fantasy?

  “I can’t want this guy,” she murmured.

  She really couldn’t. It was totally illogical and unrealistic. And talk about your bad timing.

  But she did want him.

  And that quick, she feared it was something over which she had no control.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Holly lay in bed thinking about raging hormones. Or, to be honest with herself, she was trying to think about raging hormones, trying to attribute her uncharacteristic feelings to that—but inside it felt like much more than simple hormones.

  But hormones always feel like more than hormones. And that’s the trouble with hormones.

  Drifting into half-sleep, she saw a cloudy vision of the two of them. She envisioned herself inviting him in, offering him a cup of coffee, sitting with him at the kitchen table, chatting and getting to know him…

  But that quickly grew boring, so her mind raced feverishly ahead and she soon saw herself peeling off his clothes and him doing the same to her.

  Piece by piece, thread by thread, revealing her soft white skin and his hard, tanned muscles.

  In the vision, his skin was shiny, like he’d just come in from the hot sun, like he’d been working very strenuously. She imagined touching every inch of his hard, glistening body, exploring the muscles in his arms and chest, caressing his shoulders, running her fingers though his thick, dark hair.

  But wait, the mother inside her suddenly said, jolting her awake, where is Emily through all of this?

  Emily is in a deep, deep sleep, the dreamy and alive part of her replied.

  Not that that was necessarily realistic, but neither was any of this.

  Forgetting that, she rolled over and pulled the sheets up around her, and then she got back to the good part—him. She imagined how his sweat-salty kisses would taste on her lips, then how they would feel as he moved his mouth slowly down her body, to her neck, her breasts, her stomach, then below. “Oh my,” she whispered into the darkness.

  By the time Holly got out of bed the next morning, she was exhausted. She’d spent the entire night dreaming about hot sex with her new neighbor. Which would explain why her cotton pajamas were damp with perspiration. She shook her head and reached for her robe, ready to put such silliness behind her.

  “Morning, Em,” she said a few minutes later, reaching into the baby bed to extract her daughter.

  “Aaaaa.” Emily looked bright-eyed and chipper this morning, making her envious. She, for one, had slept lousy. And it was all Derek Cassidy’s fault.

  She carried Emily toward the kitchen, thinking about how silly it was to lose sleep over this guy. She barely knew the man, after all. She lowered the baby into the bouncer seat on the kitchen floor, then moved to the counter to start fixing a bottle.

  “Enh,” Emily said, her brows furrowing.

  A moment later Holly slipped the fresh bottle into Emily’s mouth and watched her daughter eat breakfast. As Emily sucked on the bottle, Holly focused on the softness of her daughter’s cheek, the tiny fingers that clutched at the plastic container, the eyes that closed in complete satiation.

  Up until yesterday, such things were enough to completely occupy Holly’s mind. And she thought she’d liked it better that way.

  Well, maybe her mind had liked it better that way. It was simpler, after all. There was no challenge in it, no fear—only the contentment of motherhood. When Bill had died, she’d told herself that was all she’d need to get through life from now on, and she’d believed it.

  So why was she still thin
king about Derek? Because…that’s where her body entered the picture. Her body seemed to like thinking about him a lot. Which was troubling. After all, she’d literally lost sleep over the man. And she didn’t even know him. This seemed unhealthy.

  “I never felt like that about Bill,” she mused, mumbling.

  “Aaaaa,” Emily stopped eating and looked up to say.

  “I wasn’t talking to you, young lady,” Holly told her. “Now be a good baby and drink your breakfast.”

  After reaching into the pantry for a box of cereal, she poured some flakes into a bowl and dropped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster. She ate quickly, still standing at the kitchen counter, then carried Emily’s baby seat into the bedroom with her. The hardest part of the day was coming, and the familiar gnawing that began to eat away at her stomach was actually enough to take her mind off her sexy new neighbor. She worked not to let Emily see her dismay.

  Digging in the closet, she pulled out a casual dress and slipped it off the hanger, then laid out shoes, undies and a bra.

  “Mommy will be right back,” she said to Emily before heading to take a quick shower and returning to the bedroom to dress.

  She chatted playfully to her daughter as she got ready for work, telling her to be a good girl for Miss Carol today and promising her lots of stories and songs and other fun things that night after Holly retrieved her from daycare.

  But after being rewarded with a big, happy grin, Holly’s heart sank. How many more of those grins would she miss today? How many funny faces or silly noises might Emily make in her absence?

  Dropping Emmy off each morning was the most difficult thing she had ever been forced to adapt to. And when she’d told Derek Cassidy she was adjusting to life without Bill, she definitely hadn’t been talking about this part.

  When she and Bill had decided to have a baby, they’d agreed that Holly would stay home and be the perfect mother to their child. Of course, everything had changed since then. And now she had no choice but to take Emily to daycare every morning and struggle through the day at school just waiting for the moment they could be together again.

  Holly knew that some mothers handled such arrangements well, conforming to the busy working-mom lifestyle. But so far she hadn’t personally found the secret to success. Many mornings she rushed from the daycare center back out to her car only to sit there and cry. She often felt the urge to march right back in for Emily and take them both back home, responsibilities be damned.

  But the harsh reality was that they needed money to live. So she always found a way to pull herself together and go on to school, hoping Emily was getting enough attention and at the same time hoping that she wasn’t missing her child’s first words or efforts to crawl, and living all day for the moment when she would see her again.

  Holly put on a pair of earrings and pulled her long hair back in a loose chignon. Then she dressed Emily in a pair of pink overalls with a lavender T-shirt underneath, packed a diaper bag, and set off for Miss Carol’s. Another day, another heartache.

  She thought out loud as she carried the baby out to the car. “Maybe we’ll cook out on the grill tonight, Em.” Then added hopefully, “And maybe we’ll see that nice new neighbor again.”

  ***

  The sounds of hammers and nails filled the hot, sultry air as Derek stood back to survey the framing job his men worked on.

  He swabbed perspiration from his face with a blue bandanna, then shoved it back into his pocket. And reaching in again, he found the old watch he carried to keep track of time on the job sites. The cloudy face read 3:30.

  “Hey, guys!” he yelled, getting their attention and replacing the sounds of hammers with silence. “Knock off for the day.”

  The men were hard workers, each and every one of them, but they looked happy enough to start packing up their tools.

  “I’m late for an appointment,” he told them, “but I’ll see everybody in the morning.”

  Then he hopped in his pickup and started the engine. He turned on the radio, cranking the volume as usual, then drove from the dirt lot out onto the street and set off toward the office of Mr. Greely, the lawyer handling his aunt’s estate.

  Most of the estate had been settled—there were only a few loose ends left to tie up. And he’d be glad to get it behind him. As much as he appreciated Aunt Marie leaving him her house, he was finding it more difficult to live there so far than he’d expected—it felt strange to be surrounded by her things and know she was no longer around. And as much as he appreciated her faith in him to be the executor of the will, it was hard to hand out her cherished possessions to her friends and loved ones without continually feeling the loss.

  If Aunt Marie hadn’t taken me in when she did, where would I be now? He shook his head—the prospects weren’t promising. Then he made a mental note to pick up some fresh flowers for the cemetery.

  Just as he decided to turn his mind to more pleasant thoughts, an old song came on the radio—Van Halen singing about beautiful girls. It made him think of Holly Blake with that lovely red-blond hair and that soft, shy smile. What a pretty picture she created in his head.

  But then he remembered—Holly Blake was more than just a woman. Holly Blake was a package deal. She had a baby.

  Not that he had anything against babies. He just hadn’t expected it. He guessed he’d hoped she’d be completely free, with no ties—like him. A baby had to limit the amount of fun you could have with a woman.

  Wow, does this make me a piece of shit? After all, anyone would think he was an ogre for having bad thoughts against an innocent, helpless baby.

  Still, late night feedings and diaper changings just weren’t his idea of a great time. Hell, they weren’t even his idea of a good time. Any way he looked at it, it would have to be a drag.

  ***

  Derek pulled into his driveway a little after seven. The meeting had taken quite a while, but they’d finally settled Aunt Marie’s estate. Which was good. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. Too depressing.

  When he climbed out of the truck, he found the warm air filled with the scent of hamburgers on a grill. One of the neighbors was cooking out. Nice night for it, too. The temperature was perfect and the day’s humidity had completely dissipated. He drank in the aroma, sorry to remember that the only food awaiting him in the house were cold cuts in the fridge.

  Once inside, he took a quick shower, glad to rid himself of the day’s grime. Then he changed into shorts and a T-shirt and made himself a big sandwich.

  When he checked the mail a little while later, scents of the cookout still wafted through the air. He strolled barefoot back through the cool grass of the front yard, thumbing through envelopes and store flyers—and he’d just stepped up onto the porch, reaching for the door handle, when he glanced down to see a little gray kitten peering up at him.

  He drew back slightly. “Who do you belong to?” he asked, studying the little furball.

  The kitten blocked his entry into the house, so he nudged it aside with his foot. In response, the little cat looked up at him and released a hearty meow.

  When he opened the door, the kitten made a lunge to get inside, but he quickly stopped the cat’s progress, once again pushing him back with his foot. “Oh-h-ho no you don’t,” he said, and then managed to shut the screen door in the kitten’s face, keeping him out.

  After grabbing a soft drink from the fridge, then settling on Aunt Marie’s couch in front of the TV, he found himself wondering where that kitten had come from—if it belonged to someone and just gotten out, gotten lost. Maybe it belonged to Holly next door? She seemed like the kind of person who would have a cat, who would like a cat. After all, she liked babies, and the two seemed similar. They needed to be fed and kept warm and cared for. He gave a little shudder, perishing the thought.

  Not that he usually spent a lot of time worrying about stray cats. Cats wandered through job sites all the time and he generally paid them no attention. But he wasn’t used to hav
ing a teeny tiny one meowing up at him on his front porch.

  He found himself channel surfing then, seeking something to occupy his mind. He wondered what Holly was doing right now. How long had she and her husband been married before he’d died? Was she still in love with him? What did she look like when she was sleeping?

  What did she look like when she was sleeping? Where on earth had that come from? He didn’t know the answer and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. It wasn’t like him to let a woman invade his mind without his permission. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

  Bored with everything on TV, he turned it off. Normally, he might sit outside and with his soda and enjoy the weather on a nice night like this. Or mow the lawn or start the repairs on the back deck that he’d been meaning to get to. But something was keeping him inside the house tonight—and that something was obviously Holly Blake.

  But wait. Correction. Holly Blake’s baby. As instantly smitten as he’d apparently become with the woman—she was on his mind right now, after all, for no good reason—he just wasn’t ready to date someone with a built-in family. So, as much as he hated to admit it to himself, he must be avoiding her.

  Padding to the kitchen to toss his drink can in the garbage, a small scratching noise drew his attention toward the old sliding door that led to the deck. The gray furball he’d met on the front porch had now moved to the back, and it had caught sight of him through the glass. He grimaced at the cat.

  That was when it began climbing up the screen until it hung from it, attached by all four paws. Hmm—maybe the cat didn’t belong to Holly, after all, or anyone else on the street, or it would probably be there, bothering them, hanging on their screen. “How did I get so lucky that you would choose me from an entire neighborhood?” he groused at the kitten through the screen door.

  “Meowwww.”

  If he was reading this correctly—and he didn’t really know cats, so maybe he wasn’t—he thought the dumb little thing was stuck in place, a couple feet off the deck, and now getting panicky. So he sighed and took mercy on it, sliding the screen door open, reaching around, and using one hand to—as carefully as possible—detach the cat’s claws from his screen. Then he lowered it to the deck and watched it scuttle into the house before he could even think about stopping it.