“Is she Italian now that she’s planted an olive grove and fields of lavender?” Jackson looked amused.
“I feel like I’m a teenager, only I was never caught in anything remotely compromising.”
“Too clever for that, huh?”
“Too nerdy,” she answered. Also having a beauty queen sister close in age hadn’t boosted her confidence any.
“I don’t remember her being so relaxed and funny,” Jackson mused. “Are you really moving back in here?”
“And if I am?”
“Well, neighbor,” he drawled, his shirt still not on. “I’d have to say my life just got that much more interesting.”
He was joking right?
“If you’re staying for dinner, you might as well help me make some jam.” Meghan strove to sound cool.
She could be friends. Neighborly.
“Sounds fun.” He walked toward her, his light blue gaze steady on hers. “Are we living dangerously and using the book?”
“Living dangerously would be making jam without a shirt so safety first and stop showing off. Making jam can be messy. I wouldn’t want to splatter-burn all that tanned-buff real estate you’re so proud of.” She turned her back on him and lifted the lid again.
Please be boiling. Please. Please. Please.
But no, although tiny bubbles formed on the bottom of the pot, it was a ways from a full, roiling boil.
“Didn’t your mama ever tell you that a watched pot never boils?”
“Grandma Millie did,” Meghan said.
Her mom had never cooked. She and her father had often worked long hours, and entertained clients socially, so they’d had a nanny and a housekeeper who would make dinner, or they’d migrate after school to Grandma Millie’s.
She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. What was wrong with her? She didn’t have to be so defensive. Jackson was a good guy. She wanted to make changes in her life. Why not relax a little. Practice flirting with a man who would be safe—he wasn’t a serious type of man. He wasn’t looking for anything more than casual fun.
“Hey, Meghan, I was just teasing you. We good?” Jackson’s breath was near her ear. “Shirt on, all covered up. NoVin sight if you wanted to take a peek.”
“I didn’t.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. “That was Elise, and she was joking.” And then she wanted to kick herself for bringing the beautiful, adventurous Elise into the conversation.
She turned around to show him how calm and cool she was, but he looked so handsome with his blue eyes sparkling with amusement and his sensuous mouth tilted up in a smile. The afternoon sun caught his profile, highlighting his cheekbones and the hollows beneath. He was like an advertisement for… for anything, and no matter what, she’d want to buy it.
“You don’t want me to play?” He reached out and touched the chunk of hair that framed her face.
“It’s not that,” she admitted looking down, but then forcing herself to meet his curious gaze. “I’ve… I just… It’s been…” She paused trying to find the words—ironic as words were her specialty. Spoken. Written. “It’s been a while for me.”
Oh no. That sounded like she was talking about sex, and she was, but she didn’t want to jump straight to that because it sounded like a seduction challenge, so she spun back around to check the pot. Still not boiling, dang it.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. So much she was unsure of for the first time in her life. “I’ve become too serious,” she admitted. “I’m out of practice with fun, but I’m making changes with my work, my life. Not like I’m propositioning you, of course,” she hurried to add, not wanting to horrify him.
“That’s disappointing,” Jackson said softly, one finger stroking down her hair framing her face again. “So, you’re looking to practice having fun again.” His voice was gravel and teased chills over her skin despite the team wafting from the pot. “Nothing serious right?”
She nodded quickly, couldn’t, wouldn’t meet his gaze.
“I’m of a mood to try to change your mind about that, Meghan Maye.”
That cryptic statement tripled her heart rate.
“But right now, the water’s boiling, and I’d like to learn how to make jam, especially if we’re using the book of love spells and magic.”