JENNIFER LABRECQUE - Barely Behaving

“Cheery,” Cissy suggested with a bright smile. “I hate to run but I’ve got a two o’clock appointment.” She grabbed his hand and pumped it. Ye gods, the woman had the grip of a sumo wrestler. “Welcome to Colthersville and enjoy your new home.” She backed toward the hallway. “I’ll see myself out. Let me know if I can help you with anything else,” she called over her shoulder.

The front door closed behind Cissy and Niall crossed the cheery kitchen. He opened the back door and the dogs raced outside, clambering across a wooden deck to the fenced yard beyond.

Niall stepped out on the deck, satisfied. This more than made up for the kitchen. The majority of his half-acre lot sat behind the house, enclosed by a wooden privacy fence. Gigi and Memphis took off across the weed-studded lawn, a canine odd couple. A faint breeze stirred a swing into motion beneath a bare-branched oak. Spent wildflowers choked the lot’s back corner. A nostalgic air enveloped the property, as if time had stood still. The kitchen was definitely stuck in the seventies. He grinned at the notion.

The dogs loved it here already. The unmowed grass, although overgrown, appeared healthy. A sense of belonging he’d yearned for all his life enveloped him.

He looked at the property to the right. Whoa. A shapely pair of ankles and feet hung over the end of a chaise lounge. Interest strummed through him. Shrubs hid the rest of the woman—those feet and ankles could only belong to a woman. He’d obviously spent too much time behind the wheel of the moving van if he felt this much interest in a pair of legs—make that one-fifth of a pair of legs.

“Hello,” he called, loud enough to carry across the distance. The feet didn’t even twitch. “Hi, there.” He tried again, louder yet. Still no response. Maybe she was asleep. Or hard of hearing. The feet and ankles were nice, but, hell, she might be older than his own mother, for all he knew.

If he walked over to the fence and down a bit, he could probably see past the shrub. Niall nixed the idea, deliberately turning away. That’d be great. He could move into town and earn a reputation as a Peeping Tom, all in one afternoon. News traveled fast in small towns. Have you heard? The new vet’s a perve. He laughed into the warm day at the idea.

His laughter died a quick death as Gigi squeezed beneath the fencing—she’d found a hole—and disappeared to the other side. The side belonging to the geriatric sunbather. Damn it to hell. Gigi loved to nibble on toes—one of her more endearing traits.

“Gigi. Come. Come, Gigi,” he commanded.

Gigi behaved as usual. She ignored him, launching herself across the neighboring yard like a seven-pound rocket. Niall loped across his yard. Gigi was over there. He was over here. He aimed for damage control.

Just as he reached the fence line, Gigi attacked the bare toes hanging over the chaise. The woman screamed and leaped to her feet.

In an instant, Niall’s world tilted on its axis. She wasn’t geriatric and she was heart-stopping, blood-pumping naked. Except for a navel ring, earphones and a pair of sunglasses—and they didn’t particularly count.

Niall struggled to focus on the woman’s face. It was damn hard. She plucked off her earphones.

“Let me guess, you’re my new neighbor and this belongs to you.” She nodded toward Gigi who had commandeered the chaise lounge. Her distinctly southern drawl held more than a note of amusement.

With unhurried movements, the woman tugged the towel from beneath the dog and wrapped it around her, sarong-style, tucking the knot in the cleft of her breasts.

She lowered her glasses and peered over them, her sparkling blue eyes encouraging him to speak up. She appeared more amused than embarrassed. Although totally nude moments ago, she was calm, cool and collected. He, fully clothed, couldn’t seem to bumble through an introduction.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about this. We’re your new neighbors. Meet Gigi. She’s more bravado than brains. I’m sorry we…uh…interrupted you.”

“No problem—I didn’t want to burn anyway.” Her friendly smile was faintly provocative.

“No. Burning would be bad.” Speechlessness was actually preferable to his inane banter.

“Give me a minute and I’ll meet you at my gate so you can get Gigi.” The woman turned toward her house, displaying an equally impressive towel-covered backside. Some men liked skinny, stick-women. He wasn’t one of them. And she was no stick. She glanced over her shoulder “Does she bite?”

“Huh?”

“The dog. Does she bite?” Laughter flavored her southern accent.

“Only unsuspecting toes.” He recovered his wit.

Smiling, she turned and disappeared into the house.

Niall felt sure the woman would be wearing more than her towel and navel ring when she showed up at the back gate. He wasn’t so sure whether he’d be relieved or disappointed.

But he did know he liked the neighborhood already.

BUTT-ASS NAKED was a helluva way to meet the new neighbor. There were probably worse ways to meet the new folks other than in her birthday suit, although none immediately came to mind.

Given his slack-jawed response, she’d definitely made an impression. For the first time in as long as she could recall, she’d actually felt self-conscious about her nudity. Apparently he was a new species of man. The ones she knew were the ogling variety. The way he’d carefully looked her in the eye rather than ogle her had compelled her to cover herself. But a hint of her bad girl tendencies had remained because she’d found the situation stimulating.

He was fully dressed—well, as far as she could tell, with only his head and shoulders sticking up over her fence—and still she’d felt a powerful tug of attraction. As she’d told Olivia earlier, she was in a bad way.

Out of deference to her new neighbor’s sensibilities, and the wife and two kids probably lurking in the background, Tammy pulled on her jeans and shirt, which she’d draped over the kitchen chair, the fabric playing against her still stimulated parts.

She wasn’t kowtowing to public opinion, but she’d become a little more circumspect since she’d gone into business for herself. She glanced down at her plunging neckline and hip huggers and laughed. It was more conservative than wearing a towel.

She stepped out onto the patio. There, Gigi lounged indolently on the chaise, full of bold attitude. Tammy laughed at the audacity of the funny-looking little dog. “Come on, you. Your family wants you back.” She walked past the dog and snapped her fingers.

Surprisingly, Gigi hopped down and flounced along beside her.

The lush grass cushioned her bare feet as she crossed the yard to her waiting neighbor. The man’s dark brown hair, a few weeks past a good haircut, glinted in the sun. Nice square jaw, his hooked nose a shade too big by most standards but very masculine. Even now, fully clothed, self-consciousness caused her to flush as she approached him.

“One small dog returned to you.” She opened the gate and the little dog pranced through.

A worn T-shirt hung on him, revealing well-muscled arms. Even though he was built like a former linebacker—who’d managed not to go to fat—his stance lacked the aggressive arrogance so common in big men. Nerves fluttered low in her belly.

“On the porch, Gigi,” he ordered with affectionate tolerance, then turned to face Tammy. Her breath hitched in her throat. Oh, baby! Up close, he possessed the most extraordinary, soulful, brown eyes—yummy, sinfully rich pools of dark chocolate flecked with caramel framed by long dark lashes. They were a sensuous contrast to the masculine lines of his face and his strong nose. Their impact coursed through her all the way to her toes and sent her mind tumbling between the sheets.