“You could say that.” He flashed her a wide smile, his teeth white against his tanned skin.
The whole effect of that sparkling smile in that handsome, friendly face, was one that made her smile back involuntarily. It sent a warmth through her, a feeling that he looked at her - right at her - and liked what he saw. It was a dumb thing to think, but after what she’d been through it was very welcome.
She stood up. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”
“My pleasure.” Unexpectedly, he stuck out his hand. “I’m Sam Willow. I live across the street.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she already knew that but instead, she placed her hand in his much bigger one. “I’m Carly Miller. I’m only a bitch now and again. Unfortunately, you got me on a bitch day.”
His laugh was low, deep, amused, and that combined with the way his big hand gently closed around hers had the warmth seeping through her.
Sam made no effort to brush away her words. “I’m pleased to meet you, Carly.”
The sincerity on his face was unexpected, flustering her. It had been a long time since any man had flustered her.
Normally ready with snappy comebacks, Carly had another first time in her life - unable to think of a witty reply. Dropping her gaze to her palm, she lightly rubbed the patch with one finger. “Ummm…thanks again.”
Idiot! Just look at him. For God’s sake, he’s just a man. Taking another deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and looked up, prepared to meet that intense gaze only to find him packing up the first aid kit and moving past her.
“Keep the dressing dry,” Sam instructed. “Don’t change it for at least forty eight hours unless it gets dirty.” Stopping in the doorway, he looked at her. “Actually, I’ll come back and check it for you, change the Primapore.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s nec-”
“I’ll check the progress of the healing, make sure it’s not infected.” His gaze grew a little sterner. “If it continues to throb past a reasonable amount of time, or gets red, or painful, then go to your doctor and have it checked. You don’t want it to get infected.”
She had to be a little sick in herself to find that sternness a bit of a turn on, but then he flashed that warm smile again, that surfie-boy expression lightening, the first aid kit swinging in his hand and narrowly missing taking a chunk out of the wall.
“I’ll be sure to follow your orders, doctor,” she replied pertly.
His smile grew bigger, brighter, and she wondered if he’d ever done any toothpaste commercials. Maybe that’s what he did, with that surfie-boy handsomeness and that tall, muscular body that made her want to lick him like an icy pole on a hot day.
Holy Hannah, was she starting to get a libido back? After all this time?
“I’ll see you, Carly.” Sam turned and strode down the hallway.
As if drawn by an invisible string, Carly followed, her eyes glued to his backside. The cargo shorts were baggy, but she could still appreciate that tanned skin, the shift of muscle beneath, and the way those cargo shorts hung low on those lean hips.
He stopped in the doorway.
Unfortunately, she was so busy eyeballing the luscious back view, that tall, strong body, that she walked right into him.
Automatically her hand came up, her palm pressing against the hollow of his back, her fingers spreading out. Oh yeah, his skin was warm, almost hot. That thought went through her mind right before she caught herself, snatching her hand from his back as though the heat from his skin had burned her.
Sam looked back down over his shoulder, that same pleasant expression on his face. “All right?”
“Of course,” she replied, as though she made a habit of walking into people every day. “Sorry, just distracted.” By a very nice view.
Damned if she was going to lie to herself.
“Sure you don’t want a hand to shift more boxes?” He stepped through the doorway.
“I’m absolutely fine.” She glanced at the boxes on the veranda. “I’m just doing it nice and slowly, packing away as I go.” Catching his undecided expression, she added, “Ed’ll be here soon. He’ll do the heavy stuff.”
“If you’re sure-”
“Absolutely.” She waved her hand at him. “Thanks for the patch-up, Sam. I owe you.”
There went that smile again, all slow and easy, and so gosh-darned congenial it made her insides squeeze.
No, wait, those was her thighs.
“Friends never owe friends, Carly.” And with that, Sam languidly walked down the steps, meandered up the garden path and across the street.
Leaning against the door frame, she watched him right up until he disappeared inside his house.
Maybe the shift wasn’t going to be so bad after all. A nice neighbour who wasn’t as dumb as he seemed, because he’d made a bloody good job of patching her hand.
She’d just pushed away from the doorframe to return inside when she saw Sam come back outside. Scratching his thick thatch of hair, he had one hand on his hip as he looked around, obviously perplexed. He’d lost something again.
Amused, Carly shook her head and squatted down to start picking up the kitchen cutlery, returning it to the box from which it had dropped after the butcher knife had come through the unsecured bottom and cut her hand.
Which reminded her, Ed was so dead when he returned. He’d packed the cutlery. Straightening, she eyed the box. He’d also have to finish carrying in the heavy boxes as there was no way her throbbing hand would cope. She’d have to just bring in the bags and smaller boxes. After, she thought ruefully, eyeing her bloodied pants, she changed her clothes.
In the bedroom she’d chosen as her own, she changed into clean pants and put the dirty pair in a bucket of soaker. Returning to the front veranda, she was in time to see Ed come roaring into the drive on his Harley. Leaning against the veranda post, she watched as he turned the bike off.
Kicking down the stand, he stayed straddling the bike, pulling off his helmet to grin up at her. “Hey, sport.”
“Don’t sport me.”
“Feeling a little PMS?”
“Come up here and say that to my face.”
His grin just widened. The sun shone off his carelessly cut hair, the dark strands sticking up every which way.
“Helmet hair,” she observed.
“Adds to my rakish, bikie persona, don’t you think?” Drawing up one skinny arm, he made a muscle. “Goes with the tats, the ear ring, the leather, the dangerous-”
“Dickhead.”
“I was going to say ‘daring’.”
“No, ‘dickhead’ is definitely the word.”
“Harsh.” Swinging one skinny leg over the bike, he stood and stretched. “How could a chick not love this manly physique?”
Carly raised one eyebrow as she looked him up and down. Ed was lanky and dressed habitually in torn jeans, bike boots and oil-stained t-shirts. His hair, though washed regularly, rarely saw a comb. Leather bands were buckled around both skinny wrists, and tattoos coiled around his bare arms and beneath his shirt to hug his bony chest. It was lucky he owned his own motorcycle sales and repair shop, for he dressed the same for work and home.
“Oh yes,” she drawled. “I see the women lining up for miles to have a piece of Ed Miller.”
“You say that so sardonically.” He placed one palm on his chest. “I’m hurt.”
“I bet.”
Pocketing his keys, he dangled the helmet from his fingers and leaped up the stairs. “Are those boxes waiting for me?”
“You are such a genius.” She held up her palm. “And before you complain, you owe me.”
“Why?” He eyed the Primapore on her palm.
“You packed the cutlery, you jerk. You promised me you’d do it properly.”
Concern sparked in his eyes. “What happened?”
“The butcher knife fell through the bottom and cut me.”
Catching her hand, he studied her palm. “Damn. I’m so
sorry, Carly. Lucky you had the first aid kit handy.”
“Actually, I didn’t patch it up.” She pulled her hand away. “Sam fixed me.”
“Sam? Sam Willow?” Ed glanced across the street to the house opposite. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” She waved to the boxes. “Now I can’t lift anything too heavy that requires both hands, so these boxes are your job.”
“Sure.” Still concerned, he frowned. “Are you sure you don’t need to get that hand looked at by a doctor?”
“Absolutely certain. Let’s move.” She pushed away from the veranda post.
Ed slung one arm around her neck. “If I move all these boxes, will you make spaghetti for tea?” When she just looked at him, he said, “Takeaway it is, then.” Before she could move away, he pulled her in for a brief hug. “Ah, this is going to be so good, Carly. You, me, Crusher, all sharing the house, the bills, the chores.”
“Yeah, remember that chores bit, won’t you?” She gave him a one-armed hug back before pushing away. “And where is Crusher?”
“Huggie has him.”
“Why?”
“Because Crusher won’t sit like a good doggie on the back of the bike.”
“So you’re leaving him at the shop with Huggie? What about tonight?”
“Huggie will drop him off.” Dropping his helmet on top of a box without even checking the contents, a fact that made Carly wince, he picked up the box and said cheerfully, “You worry too much.”
“And you worry too little.”
“Just take a leaf out of ol’ Uncle Ed’s book and stop fretting so much. Things always work out.” He winked at her and disappeared inside the house.
Carly sighed. If only she could be so easy-going things might have been a lot easier. But what was done was done, and this was a new start.
Picking up one of the bags, she followed Ed into the house.
~*~
The lady across the road was a little testy. Prickly. But somehow he kind of liked her anyway. There was something about her, beyond the tightness of her mouth and the slight unhappiness in her eyes.
“Pretty eyes, too,” he informed SJ.
The ginger cat eyed him without blinking.
“Brown like chocolate.”
SJ blinked.
“Okay, that’s not an original quote, but who cares?” Picking up the shovel, Sam went back to digging the new flower bed, whistling as he worked.
Ah, he loved gardening. It was so soothing, the rhythmic digging, weeding, planting, watering, and trimming. It gave him a sense of quiet achievement, watching the carefully tended flowers flourish, stretching their bobbing heads to the sky. The flash of bright and soft colours was a balm to his soul.
After eight hours working in the ER at the hospital, gardening helped ease the tension, reconnected him with the earth and life outside the walls, banished the cries and screams, the sobbing, and yes, even the laughter, for working in the ER wasn’t all alarm bells, urgency and emergency. There were slower moments, shared laughter with fellow co-workers, emergencies that were dealt with quietly and efficiently, non-emergencies dealt with, and not everything was hurried. But he still needed his quiet time, and his home and his garden were his sanctuary.
Several little birds splashed in the bird bath under a nearby tree, and he smiled at their happy chittering.
SJ flopped down on the lawn not far from Sam, his golden eyes locked on the birds, the tip of his tail flicking lazily.
“Don’t even think about it,” Sam advised him.
SJ blinked again, rolled in the sunshine and settled on his other side for a sunbake.
Time passed pleasantly, and Sam managed to finish the whole flower bed and was just getting ready to start planting the seedlings when a cop car pulled into the driveway.
Straightening, he watched as his friend got out of the car. “Alan.”
“Hey.” Alan meandered across the lawn to study the flower bed. “Got a body under there?”
Sam waved towards the small box of seedlings.
“Good idea. Plant flowers and no one will ever guess what you’ve really got buried.”
Sam grinned. “I’d offer you a beer, but I see you’re still on duty.”
“You know me, always on the case, justice, law, order, all that shit.”
“Yeah, ‘cause that attitude will get you promoted.”
“That’s why I’m not angling for that at this stage.”
Sam raised his brows.
“With promotion comes greater responsibility, better pay, and more respect.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The responsibility part.”
“Ah.”
“Yep.” Squatting down, Alan gave SJ a rub. “How’s the man?”
“Obviously more responsible than you.”
Alan laughed. “SJ doesn’t have a care in the world. You dote on him.”
“He’s had it tough.”
“Before he found you, the best sucker around, and made himself at home.” Alan straightened. “I don’t know that he ever forgave you for getting him unmanned at the vet, though.”
“Trust me, he doesn’t care.” Kneeling on the ground, Sam started to carefully plant the seedlings. “How’s Sophie?”
“Right in the middle of writing her latest girlie porn.”
“Happy, then.”
“Man, she’s married to me. Of course she’s happy.”
Sam rolled his eyes.
Alan continued, “I see your new neighbours are moving in across the road.”
“Yep.”
“Met them yet?”
“Yep.”
When Sam didn’t continue, Alan probed, “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Don’t be an arse. What are they like?”
“He rides a Harley, but I haven’t actually met him properly. She’s nice.”
“I saw the Harley in the driveway.” There was a pause, then, “Is the chick hot?”
Sam looked up to see Alan gazing across at the house opposite. “She’s taken.”
“But is she hot?”
Sam sat back on his heels. “Alan, you’re married.”
“Not for me, you nong. For you.”
“She already has a bloke.”
“But are they together?”
“They’re living together,” Sam pointed out dryly.
“Doesn’t mean anything. You and I lived together, and we weren’t married.”
“Do you know how that sounds?”
Alan thought for a moment. “Oh. Right. I meant, we shared the house, but we weren’t an item.”
“Thank God.”
“Anyway.” Alan returned his attention to the house opposite. “Is she a hot - whoa. Big chick.”
Sam followed his gaze to see Carly striding around from the back of the house to climb the steps onto the veranda. Her generous hips swayed gracefully as she walked, and when she turned sideways to say something, he couldn’t help but notice the equally generous breasts pushing out the front of her shirt.
“Pretty,” Alan commented. “Not like my Soph, of course.”
Man, Carly was built like an over-blown hour glass. Sam swallowed.
“You all right?” Alan queried.
“Gardening’s thirsty work, I need my water bottle.” No way was he going to let Alan know that the sight of Carly had affected him a little. He turned back to the flower bed and proceeded to pat down the soil around a small seedling.
“Is that her bloke? Cripes, he’s skinny. Needs to work out some, build some muscle so he can wrestle that sheila to the ground and-”
“Jesus, Alan. Do you talk to Sophie like this?”
“All the time.”
“I bet you spend a lot of time on the sofa.”
“We do. On the sofa, the table, the bed, the -”
“Try to remember that she’s my cousin, all right? I really don’t want to hear about your sexual exploitations.”
“You have no idea
what you’re missing out on.” Alan rocked back and forth on his heels. “Wow, have you had a gander at that bloke?”
Sam couldn’t help it, he glanced over at the opposite house.
Yep, the bloke in question was definitely skinny, almost painfully so, and he was covered in tattoos and so rough looking beside Carly’s sweet roundness. Maybe that was why she was so uptight, married to a rough bikie. Or shacked up with him, who knew? He hadn’t looked for a wedding ring when he’d held her soft little hand in his.
Shaking his head, he turned back to the flower bed.
“Made you look,” Alan drawled.
“What are you, ten?”
Alan laughed.
Sam couldn’t help but grin. Alan might be trying at times, but he was a good friend and fun, and he didn’t mean any harm. In a tight situation he was the man to have at your back. You just had to learn to live with his warped sense of humour.
“So, anyway,” Alan said. “Sophie wants you to come to dinner on Friday night.”
“Friday.” Sam thought ahead.
“If you’re not doing your nursie business, of course. Are you on shift?”
“Nope. I’ll be there. What time?”
“Si x o’clock. Gives me time to get home, have a shower, and indulge in some hot sex with Soph before you arrive.”
“You always were a fast worker.”
“Hey,” Alan said indignantly “I’ll have you know I’m a stayer.”
“I’ll have you know I don’t care.” Sam shuddered. “Or want to know.”
“Jealous. Poor bastard.” Alan nodded cheerfully. “Okay, better go and deliver justice, keep you citizens safe from harm, save the day. I’ll see you Friday.”
Pushing to his feet, Sam walked him back to the car. As he watched Alan pull away, his attention was caught by another Harley roaring down the street, startling SJ, who shot to his feet and sped around the back of the house. The Harley pulled up at Carly’s house and a hulking brute with a bald head, a pierced nose, and wearing a heavy leather jacket got off the bike and sauntered up the steps and onto the veranda, knocking on the door. Ed opened it and the bikie disappeared inside.
Ed spotted Sam and waved cheerfully.
Sam waved back and returned to his flower bed, wondering about his new neighbours.
It seemed he wasn’t the only one, with his next door neighbour popping her head up on the other side of the fence.
Seducing Sam Page 2