Page 13 of Seasoned
“I’m just being neighborly.”
“Yeah, like you were neighborly to the couple two doors down the street when you repaired their deck for free…oh, wait, you charged them, didn’t you? Let’s see, you didn’t charge the widow one street over, did you—Mrs. Potter?” Chelsea tapped her chin.
Clive chuckled and shook his head. “You’ve made your point.”
Chelsea stood. “I think it’s nice that you’re dating again.”
“Who said anything about dating?”
“Dad, come on. Don’t pretend this isn’t part of the courtship. We both know you’re not doing all this for her simply out of the goodness of your heart.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Or maybe you want to spend more time with the woman, which is perfectly fine.”
He sighed heavily and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, maybe.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know…not only am I out of practice, I’m skeptical that a woman like her would give a man like me the time of day.”
“A nice man? A good man? A loyal man? My opinion, she’d be a fool not to.”
“You’re my daughter, you’re supposed to say that.”
“I’m being honest. You’re a great catch, and if for some bizarre reason she doesn’t see it, some other lucky lady will.”
“Doesn’t matter anyway. Based on how she’s treated me since we moved in, I think I’ll take my chances elsewhere.”
“Sure, Dad.”
“I’m serious. She’s not my type.”
“Mmm-hmm. I heard you.” Chelsea kissed his cheek and sauntered from the kitchen.
Clive laughed and shook his head. Okay, fine. Chelsea knew him very well, and yes, he was attracted to Renee. Had been from the minute he saw her, despite their rocky relationship over the past year. He figured he wasn’t her type, and she sure as hell wasn’t his. Not warm enough, not friendly, and always upset.
But if he had his way, he’d get a shot at finding out if all that passionate anger she exuded could be turned into passionate cries of pleasure.
6
She wasn’t trying to impress him. Or was she?
Renee cursed quietly.
Too late now. The scent of a full breakfast filled the house, and Clive would arrive in a few minutes.
Too late to change out of the tight jeans and fitted blouse that showed off what she considered her best assets—her breasts—and she’d already sprayed on her favorite perfume.
When the doorbell rang, she jumped, then laughed at her silly nervousness. They were going to eat breakfast and then he’d fix some things around the house. That’s it.
She opened the door and Clive stood outside in a dark pullover and the enticing fragrance of aftershave. Whatever it was, the scent fit the type of man he was—one who was rugged and worked with his hands.
“Smells good in here,” he said, stepping across the threshold and setting down his toolbox.
Have mercy, why was a toolbox so sexy? Was she really that hard up for male attention?
“It should. I’ve been working hard all morning on the food.”
