But he has to be. How many men could the Callahans have wandering around their house with a broken leg?
He smiled at her with the same boyish grin he’d given her that first morning she and Leo had moved into the neighborhood. She still remembered him in his driveway playing basketball with one of his buddies a few weeks before his first days of high school.
Jeremy had always been tall, but as a kid he’d been skinny and lanky. He’d definitely grown into his height. His chest was now broad and solid. His biceps flexed as he released the doorknob and crossed his arms over his chest. Even his waist was thick with muscle, the kind that would be defined beneath that red T-shirt.
“Hi, Mrs Valentine.”
She cleared her throat, gripping the cake container a little tighter in her sweaty hands. “Please, Jeremy. You’re not in school anymore. You don’t have to call me Mrs Valentine. Miranda is fine.”
“Okay. Hi, Miranda.”
She liked the sound of her name on his lips. It took her a second to realize she’d never heard him say it before. He’d always been a very polite boy, always respectful. But she was starting to like the man a lot better.
“Well, I…uh, made this for you and your folks. Just a little I-hope-you-feel-better cake.” She handed the dessert to Jeremy, forcing herself to stop rambling.
He grabbed the Tupperware container with quick hands that looked much bigger than they used to.
“Thank you.” He glanced down at the Bundt cake. “Is this mocha fudge?”
She nodded.
“Good. I always loved that cake.” He leaned forward a little, as though to tell her a secret, his mouth moving toward hers.
His woodsy, masculine smell wafted to her across the space between them. His heat and strong presence calling to her like a moth to a flame.
“I’ve always had quite a sweet tooth.” He grinned at her.
Miranda’s mind flashed to what else he could do with those teeth. Those lips. That mouth.
“I hope you enjoy it.” She shook her head, attempting to refocus her thoughts to the task at hand instead of the inappropriate direction they’d been wandering. “If you need anything else—”
“I could use a break from this place,” he interjected with a nod toward the living room behind him. “My mom means well, but it would be great to have some time away from my third grade baseball trophy and talking about all my old friends who have moved away.”
Miranda paused, unsure what to do. It seemed rude to tell him no, but it had been a long time since she’d had a man in her house, alone. And Jeremy was definitely a man now. Though she doubted the rest of the neighborhood would see it that way. “I don’t…”
“Please?” He looked down at her, his warm eyes begging for his escape.
She swallowed beneath his stare. Her throat tightened and her mouth dried up like a desert. No woman could say no to those puppy dog eyes, least of all her.
“You’d be doing me the biggest favor,” he urged. “I’d owe you.”
Her heart sped up a bit at his suggestion. Visions formed before her eyes of how she could use that favor. Visions that were far from neighborly and not at all how she should think about little Jeremy next door.
“Okay,” was all she could think of to say.
Miranda concentrated on breathing low, and even during the short trip from the Callahans’, she continuingly shifted her gaze to Jeremy, still amazed by the changes she saw in him. And the way those changes affected her! Her palms were covered with sweat and her stomach fluttered just at the sight of him. What is wrong with me?
They walked without speaking, the only sound between them the thump of Jeremy’s plaster cast against the concrete sidewalk as he hobbled up her front steps. Even with his injury, his stride was graceful and controlled, his thick, long legs moving with power beneath him. She took a deep breath, the cool night feeling a touch too warm. Her fingers shook as she pushed her key into the lock. The door banged against the frame as she threw it open harder than she’d intended, her hands shaking with nervous energy.
“Do you want something to eat?” She motioned toward the kitchen as she crossed the threshold and held the door open for Jeremy to enter before sliding it shut behind them.
Jeremy strode toward the couch. His cast wacked across the maple floors with each step. He leaned on the sofa arm, resting his weight against the plushy cranberry pillows. “No, thanks. With all the meatloaf and casseroles my mother has been feeding me, I’m getting a gut.”
He patted his stomach where the phantom fat sat, and Miranda’s gaze dropped down to the area. She didn’t see any gut beneath his T-shirt. In fact, his stomach looked flat and hard through the cotton, perfect for her fingers—or nails.
She slid her hand down the side of her skirt, her palm still sweaty. How can I be having these thoughts about Jeremy from next door? He is just a kid. A whole decade stands between us.
“But I wouldn’t mind some wine. Alcohol seems to be missing from my mother’s nursing regimen.”
Miranda smiled. “That I can do.” She dashed to the kitchen. Raising up on her toes, she selected two glasses out of the nearby cabinet. “Is merlot, okay?” she called into the other room as she turned several of the bottles in the wine rack to see what other kinds she had. She hadn’t opened one of these bottles since before Leo’s diagnosis. Alcohol had interfered with his meds.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” he hollered back. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Miranda pulled the closest bottle down. “No, I’ve got it.” She opened the lower drawer and retrieved a corkscrew. Holding the glasses and corkscrew in one hand and the bottle in the other, she headed back to the living room.
“If you want, you can open the bottle,” she offered, extending him the wine and corkscrew. Leo had always told her she was useless with these kinds of things. She had a tendency to break the cork halfway out. It was one of the many reasons she hadn’t opened a bottle since Leo’s death. That, and she’d had no good reason to drink. Sitting home alone most nights was not the right time to open a bottle of wine.
“Sure.” He smiled, leaning up and taking the items from her. “It’s nice to be useful. Even with this.” He knocked on his leg. The loud thump of a fist on plaster filled the room.
Miranda sat on the opposite end of the couch, waiting patiently while he jabbed the curled metal into the cork and started to twist it out, even as it made her twitchy and achy. A sudden throbbing bloomed between her legs at the twirl of the device in his hand, the triumphant way he finally pulled the cork from the long, thin neck. She clamped her thighs together, hoping to stem the sensation before it traveled any further.
“That’s probably been the hardest part of being injured. Having to ask for help.” He poured the deep red wine into one of the glasses. When the goblet was half full, he switched to the other, not allowing a drop to fall. “I guess I’m not very good at it.” Once both glasses were filled to midpoint, he handed her one and placed the bottle on the table.
She took a sip of the dry merlot. “Just like every other man.” She hid her smirk behind her glass, but judging from Jeremy’s returned smile, he didn’t mind the slight dig.
“I guess that’s true.” He drank some of his wine, his hand wrapped around the stem with a firm touch.
What else could he do with those hands? How strong or how soft might his grip be?
“How did you get hurt anyway?” Best to keep focused on something besides Jeremy’s mouth pursed against the glass.
He looked down at the cast over his leg. “Do you promise not to laugh at me?”
She nodded, turning to face him fully, shifting her focus to him completely. She twisted into the couch cushions and slid her stockinged feet beneath her.
“I slipped on a pile of rhino dung.”
She chuckled, slapping her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. She couldn’t help it. The image of him sliding backward in a giant pile of poop was too funny not to laugh.
/> “Hey,” he yelled, although his face didn’t hold any true anger. Instead, he smiled with her. “You promised not to laugh.”
“You’re right.” She snorted, placing the glass of wine down on the coffee table before she spilled it all over the floor. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting a story like that.” She wiped at a bit of moisture gathering along her eyelashes. “How exactly does one break his leg by stepping in rhino dung?”
He smirked, bringing the wine glass to his lips then taking a sip. “I was trying to take a picture of a momma rhino and her calf cuddling. People love pictures of animal mothers and babies, especially exotic ones. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking. I stepped backward, slipped on the pile, and my leg ended up underneath me bent the wrong way.”
She erupted in another fit of chuckles. “I’m sorry.” She brushed the tears back. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a good laugh.”
She reached out, touching his arm without even a thought. He glanced down, staring at where her skin met his. Then his gaze traveled back up to hers. For a second they just stared at each other. Arcs of heat passed between them, and her stomach fluttered. His skin was warm and soft beneath her touch, and oh so tantalizing.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I don’t mind too much.”
His chocolate-brown eyes were so deep and sweet, she almost believed she could drown in them. And what a way to go.
His lips hovered close enough she could nearly feel them on her skin, the soft stroke against her mouth, his tongue caressing hers. It had been so long since she’d been kissed. So long since anyone had looked at her with as much heat and lust as Jeremy was now.
Not since Leo. Not since her dead husband.
She pulled her hand back, breaking their connection. She stood on dangerous ground. She could feel it. Somehow she had to bring the conversation back to a safer topic. Much safer. “At least you got to travel to some exciting places. Your mom showed me a bunch of your pictures. They’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
He took a sip of his wine, his focus still pinned on her, filling her with an unusual heat. He never looked away. It both excited and scared her.
“I’ve been very lucky.” He tossed it off as though it were nothing.
She knew from all his mother’s stories that he worked hard for the career he had. But she let him have his modesty.
“It must be so much fun to travel, to see all these exotic places and people. To experience so much of the world.” She took a drink of wine, directing her attention out of the window, even as the temptation to turn toward him battered at her periphery vision. “I’ve always wanted to travel.” Instead, she’d followed the safe path. She’d gotten married to her high school sweetheart and settled into a job at the quiet library where she’d spent most of her high school days.
“I thought you traveled every day at the library.”
Miranda smiled. “So you believed those posters?” On the wall above the check-in desk, several old posters were hung there showing children stepping out of books into exotic adventures, fighting dragons, riding unicorns or joining a boat full of swashbuckling pirates. They were chichi but cute.
“Well, I saw them enough. They’re imprinted on my mind.”
“You did spend a lot of time at the library.” She’d always liked it when Jeremy stopped in between his classes or after school. He’d always been so sweet and interested. So few of the other boys who wandered in and out of her sanctuary cared about learning. They were too consumed with sports and sex to give books a second thought.
He nodded. “You’re half the reason I became a photographer.”
That got her attention. She snapped her focus back to his face.
“I used to spend hours in the library, combing over those photography books in the back row. Ansel Adams, William Henry Jackson, Eliot Porter, Arthur Morris.”
“Those great artists inspired you, not me.” Miranda shifted her feet beneath her, unsettled by the direction this conversation had taken.
He smiled, and she could feel herself slipping again, falling into those deep, adorable eyes.
“Why do you think I was in the library looking at those books so much?”
“I have no idea.” Honestly, she’d never thought about it.
“I only came to the library so often to be near you. The photography books were right next to your desk.”
She shook her head, sure he must be saying all this to be nice. He’d always been considerate. There was no way he’d spent his time trying to be near her back then, instead of girls his own age. “I can’t imagine any of you boys even noticing me.” Sure she’d gotten some attention when she’d been in high school, but she’d already been with Leo then, and she hadn’t been daring enough to try her luck with another guy. Leo had always been nice, kind, attentive. What more could she expect?
“Are you kidding? Every guy in school had a crush on you. They all used to be jealous that I lived next door to you.”
“Really?”
He flashed her the same devilish grin he’d used as a teen to get away with accidentally backing over Mrs Slater’s tulips. “Ryan Mason drove me to school every day just to try and catch a glimpse of you getting ready in the morning.”
Miranda swallowed harder. She’d had no idea the students thought about her that way. She should feel objectified, used, but instead, all she felt was attractive, desirable.
“Rides in Ryan’s Jag must have been nice. I guess it worked out for you.” She smiled, joking, but he didn’t respond in kind.
His eyes darkened. Lust shimmered through his gaze, heating her from the inside out. A traitorous ache throbbed between her legs. She clamped her hand down on her thigh. She battled down the inappropriate idea to reach out and smooth her fingers along Jeremy’s square jaw line, to rub her knuckles across his lips to see how soft they were.
As though sensing her thoughts, he dropped his gaze to her lips, and her stomach fluttered. Her mouth felt dry, but she stopped herself a second before she licked her lips. The corner of Jeremy’s mouth turned up, as though he knew what she’d almost done.
“You have no idea.” His voice was deep, husky with need.
Jeremy leaned over her, close enough she could see the flecks of gold and green in his eyes. So bright, just like Jeremy. He was going to kiss her. She could feel it in the way he looked at her, at the motions of his lips, the grip of his hands along the couch.
She should stop him. It was the right thing to do. But she couldn’t force herself to push him away. Not when she wanted his kiss as much as her next breath. It might be wrong, it might be crazy, but she wanted Jeremy Callahan.
He brushed the hair back from her face, twirling it behind her ear. He wrapped his hand around her neck, strumming his thumb against her jaw. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Then his mouth was on hers. His lips tasted like the crisp wine and a hint of something deeper and masculine. A taste she could easily become addicted to.
His kiss was soft at first. His lips gently prodded hers, as though he was testing her willingness to accept him. He cupped his hands around her face, his touch comforting, not pushing her too far or too fast.
When she opened just a little to accept him, he took full advantage. His tongue slipped into her mouth, roving the inside of her lips and along her teeth, finding her tongue then moving with it. He let his hand roam along her curves as he kissed her so deeply she could feel it to her toes.
Sensations bombarded her, exploding along her nerve endings and vibrating across her skin. Heat erupted in her stomach, arrowing down to the junction of her thighs. She let out a small moan, and he reacted in kind. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had kissed her this well, this thoroughly, and damn it, she’d missed it.
In response to her moan, he leaned further over her. He pushed his good leg between her knees, balancing his weight on his cast and the couch. She opened her legs, invit
ing him to explore. He groaned against her lips, the sound coiling in the base of her stomach. She arched into him, pressing her pussy into his thick, hard thigh. Her breasts rubbed across his chest, sending little zings of pleasure through her whole body.
“God, you’re amazing,” he whispered between deep breaths. His lips were swollen from her kisses.
“Thank you.” She placed quick kisses along his jaw and throat. She was a woman possessed. A switch had been thrown inside her. She no longer had any control over her actions.
His body crushed against hers was all that mattered. Not that she’d watched Jeremy grow up next door, or that his mother still stopped by for coffee every Saturday afternoon.
“Do you want to take this to the bedroom?”
She paused for a second, staring up at him. His chest rose and fell with his labored breath. Her body shook, her heart pounding faster. She should tell him no. There was still a part of her that knew right from wrong and that she should turn him away. But it was a very small part of her brain, compared to the rest of her that wanted to see, touch and feel Jeremy’s naked body next to hers.
Instead, she nodded.
Chapter Three
Jeremy couldn’t believe what was happening. He was touching Mrs Valentine, kissing Mrs Valentine. God, she tasted so good. She felt even better. He’d dreamed of this day for years, never thinking it would actually happen. But here he was with Miranda in his arms, and he didn’t plan to let her go.
Even with his injured limb, he easily hauled her up from the couch. He kissed her deeply, probing her mouth with his tongue and sliding it along with hers. Her taste was rich and sinful like her mocha fudge cake. He explored more of her body—her back, her spine, her ass.
Throughout his exploration, he walked her backward, maneuvering their way to her bedroom. He knew the layout of her house. He’d helped her out with chores when he was younger. He’d house sat for her once when she and her husband had gone on a Caribbean vacation. Spending his spring break picking up mail and watering plants now seemed like an excellent use of time.
Valentine Next Door Page 2