Joanne Rock - Her Final Fling

God, that sounded like a come-on. Giving herself a mental shake and a stern reminder of where fanciful thoughts had led her the last time, Christine decided to make tracks back to her sweaty physical labor before she started thinking about other ways of getting sweaty and physical with the undeniably delicious Vito.

Turning her gaze back to the torn-up Cesare yard, she promised herself she’d ditch Vito and all thoughts of a sexy interlude ASAP.

VITO STARED DOWN at Christine in the rosy light of sunset and wondered how many more neighbors’ ancient stories he’d have to suffer through before he could go home.

With her.

“I refuse to answer that until you tell me something about you.” In fact, he wasn’t budging until he knew more about this woman full of contrasts. Her pixie figure versus her very healthy appetite was the most recent of his intriguing discoveries about her. “You know all the dirt on me now, but I don’t know the first thing about you other than you run your own business and you don’t like anyone to handle your petals too roughly.”

He didn’t know what demon within made him add in that last part. He had the feeling he shouldn’t be flirting with her if he wanted to convince her they could successfully share the same house for the next six weeks.

But she didn’t blush or look the least bit flustered. Instead, she jammed her box of cookies under one arm and faced him head-on. All business.

“Fair enough. I’m a Tampa native but I went to college in L.A. I wanted to put as much distance between me and the overbearing men in my family. But now I’m back in the same state as my older brothers and I’m determined to develop my own business independent of anyone’s help—financial or otherwise.”

Was it his imagination, or did he detect a note of warning in her voice? And how had she come to be so damn prickly at such a young age? She couldn’t be much older than twenty-five.

She waved to a little girl pushing her way down the sidewalk on a scooter before she took up her story again. “My five-year plan sees All Natural thriving as an independent success while my ten-year goals include opening offices in other Florida cities. Either that, or I might just open a nursery of specialty plants you can’t find anywhere else. I don’t date much because I work too hard and I spend the majority of my waking hours with dirt under my fingernails.”

He found it interesting she opted to slide in her dating stance. Another warning, no doubt.

“Just out of curiosity’s sake, are men in the five-year plan?” Not that he was jockeying for position or anything.

“Men aren’t even in the long-term planning unless I get really lonely. And even then…Well let’s just say I don’t need much in that department to tide me over.” Glancing around the neighborhood, she peered back at Vito’s ranch house. “And I think that bit of sharing probably evens up the score don’t you? I really need to do a few more things around the yard before it gets totally dark.”

Letting her off the hook for now, Vito definitely planned to ask her about her opposition to dating sometime down the road. Her stance surprised him since he had her pegged for more the home-and-hearth type with her green thumb and nurturing career.

But he had to admit, her anti-relationship views opened up some very intriguing possibilities for them this summer.

“Don’t you want to go talk to a few more neighbors?” Vito had seen Mrs. Hollenbeck walking her dog on the street earlier. She’d vouch for him in a heartbeat, assuming she’d forgiven him for feeding Fluffy pizza the one and only time he’d done any dog-sitting. How was he supposed to know Fluffy had wheat allergies?

“Are you kidding? I just got your whole life story from Mary Jo.” Christine hurried back over to his yard, her low-cut work boots moving silently over the dark ground, her hair fluttering around her chin with the help of a welcome breeze. “I’m confident there’s not a chance you could be a homicidal maniac without her knowing all the details. Even if you did have a dark and wicked side, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to exercise it for fear of jeopardizing lifetime access to the best cookies in southern Florida.”

Setting her box of sweets on the tailgate of the rusty pickup truck parked under the carport, she circled around to retrieve a few tools still lying around the property.

Vito ducked into the carport to turn on a couple of floodlights and then followed her across the yard, enjoying the view from behind. “The people around here are pretty nice. They were all really good to the family after our folks died. Mrs. Kowolski fed us for a week before Giselle decided she wanted to take up cooking. Nico grew pretty talented in the kitchen, too, but me and Renzo—forget it. We would have been living on Cap’n Crunch without some help.”

Giselle’s exploits as a superstar chef were a welcome topic of conversation normally, but Vito didn’t want to overload his guest on his first day back in town. She probably knew more than she ever wanted to know about the Cesares.

“How can I help?” He took a shovel from her since she was juggling too many tools.

“I don’t need any help.” She smiled brightly before trudging to an outbuilding at the back of the property that his brother had built for his woodworking. “And I can get the shovel, too, so please don’t feel like you need to stick around if you have other things to do. I’ll probably be busy for a few more hours at least.”

“Aren’t you picking up for the night?” Somehow he’d had visions of them going inside together. Talking. Hanging out. Hell, he didn’t know what he had in mind.

He knew perfectly well it was too soon to act on this attraction to Christine.

“No, I’m just organizing so that my work space doesn’t look like a disaster area now that you’re here. I’ll clean up in the house before I go to bed, too, and I’m sorry about all the plants in the sink. I can guarantee they’re bug-free, however.”

Damn, he hadn’t even thought about the infestation potential.

“It’s not a problem.” Especially since he always had someone come in to clean the house whenever he was in town. What was the point of all his racing winnings if he couldn’t occasionally dip into them for a few perks? After having struggled and scrimped to help his brothers and Giselle pay for college, who could blame him for a little self-indulgence now? “And damn it, Christine, let me give you a hand just for tonight since I threw off your whole workday by showing up.”

Ducking into the workshop, Christine switched on a lamp. Of course, this being his brother’s old carpentry haven, the lighting wasn’t just a bare electric light bulb. Although the rest of the room had been cleared out of hand carved desks and elaborate sideboards, the oversize shed still boasted wooden wall sconces at three-foot intervals.

Just what every backyard storage shed needed.

With a thunk, Christine set down the tools she’d been lugging on the sealed concrete floor.

“Look. I don’t mean to be rude, Vito, and I’ve had a surprisingly nice day hanging out with you, considering you’re some sort of European playboy extraordinaire. But I have a really hard time accepting help and I feel a big sense of ownership on this project, so if you don’t mind…”

“You want me to leave you alone.” He set down his shovel, the only tool she’d let him carry. She’d given him loud and clear warnings about the whole independence thing, so he wasn’t surprised there. But he was surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment. “Fair enough. I just wanted to make sure things were cool between us before I went inside.”

“They’re very cool.” She straightened the tools in the corner of the half-empty shed and failed to meet his eye.