LITMIR.BIZ

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was a stretch—more like visited. Moving from one commercial carpentry job to another, scouting for houses to flip in between. He couldn’t remember being anywhere for longer than six months in the past five years, since his engagement to Brooke had ended so disastrously. At least he’d learned that his fiancée slept around—and upside down—before they’d said their vows. For the first two years afterward, he’d worked eighteen hours a day to keep the pain at bay, and by then, the frantic work pace simply became a habit. Lingering in one place too long would simply lead to … complications. His mantra was to keep his relationships light … portable … temporary.

      And tangle-free. He didn’t need to be arrested as a Peeping Tom for spying on the ex-wife of the state attorney general.

      Chev shifted uncomfortably on the stool. He hadn’t maintained a hard-on this long since high school, but even after a cold shower and a hot meal, he simply couldn’t get the image of Gemma Jacobs out of his mind. He’d thought she caught him watching her, but then she had gone on as if nothing had happened, donning a nightgown that was as good as transparent, giving him a gut-clutching view of her full breasts tipping forward as she reached and leaned and stooped before finally turning off the bedroom light.

      It was almost as if.

      No. He scoffed. A woman like Gemma wouldn’t …

      Would she?

      He pulled his hand down his face, wondering if it were possible that she had caught him watching her but hadn’t minded. And, in fact, had extended the performance a little longer …

      Then he expelled a harsh little laugh. Wishful thinking. Because the only thing hotter than watching her dress and undress in the window would be if she’d known he was watching her.

      The moisture left his throat as his cock grew harder. He tipped up the beer and shifted again, troubled by the sudden thought that, after meeting Gemma and now having her nude body branded on his brain, there would be only one way to fully sate his appetite.

      Unfortunately, that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon. The woman was way out of his league.

      He turned his head and saw two pretty young brunettes staring at him over the tops of their drinks. They smiled and waved, twisting their tanned, nubile bodies to best advantage. Arms draped around each other’s shoulders, they kissed full on the mouth for his benefit. He set his jaw at the lust that surged through him and considered the doubleheader diversion. A heartbeat later, he rejected the idea. Another time, he might have been interested, but tomorrow would be a long workday. It was best to call it a night. He gave the women a clipped nod, then tossed money on the bar and downed the rest of his beer before leaving.

      He mentally kicked himself all the way back to Petal Lagoon Drive. Those two brunettes could’ve taken the edge off his libido and taken his mind off the blonde next door.

      For a while.

      The house next to his fixer-upper was dark when he pulled into the driveway, dimly illuminated by a dusk-to-dawn light on the street. His loud rumbling truck plowed through the quiet of the upscale neighborhood, reminding him that he didn’t belong. He cut off the engine and sat listening to the silence of the suburbs, wondering what it would’ve been like to grow up in such an insular, privileged environment. A yard … trees … a pool … good schools for him and his siblings … good jobs for his parents. A world away from el Barrio where he’d spent his youth in Miami.

      He climbed out of the truck and closed the door as quietly as possible, glancing up at the darkened window of Gemma’s bedroom and feeling like a fool. The “performance” had been a fluke, and he’d have to put it out of his mind until the renovations on the Spanish house were done and he could sell it. Then, as far as Gemma Jacobs was concerned, out of sight was out of mind. In fact, starting tomorrow, he would do everything in his power to make sure that he and the blonde divorcée didn’t cross paths again.

      Staying away from her bedroom window would require a tad more willpower, but he’d put up a drop cloth, shutter the window, blindfold himself if necessary. Just because he hadn’t been caught this time didn’t mean he’d be so lucky next time.

      And just like that, he was already fantasizing about next time…

       6

      DESPITE AN UNEXPECTEDLY good night’s sleep, Gemma was jumpy as she sipped morning coffee standing at her kitchen window. She couldn’t decipher if she was most nervous about the interview with the employment agency, or the possibility of running into Chev Martinez again after her unwitting peep show the night before.

      His silver pickup sat next door in the early morning light, but all was quiet around the property as far as she could tell. She checked her watch—it was still early, but if she left now, she might be able to get away without even having to make eye contact with her neighbor.

      She swung her bag to her shoulder and exited to the garage that seemed bare with Jason’s car gone and his sports equipment missing from the walls. A black-and-gold monogrammed golf towel lay on the sealed concrete floor. Her heart squeezed as a fresh wave of loss swept over her. Gemma picked up the towel and ran her finger over the elegantly stitched letters, trying to remember who had gotten it for Jason. It didn’t matter, she decided, laying it on a shelf. It was just a reminder of all the details in his life that were no longer her concern. She inhaled deeply and turned toward her car, thinking that if she couldn’t rewind time to fix her marriage, she wished she could at least fast-forward to the day when things were okay again.

      The pencil skirt she wore restricted her movement as she swung into the seat, but she told herself that she’d better get used to dressing up every day if she were going to rejoin the working world. Thank goodness that no one in Florida wore panty hose, but the rest of her outfit made her feel … proper. She was already eager to take it off. When the image of undressing with an audience of one flashed into her mind, she banished the thought. Squeezing the garage door opener on the visor, she started the car engine, poised for a quick escape. If she were lucky, she could postpone her next—undoubtedly awkward—conversation with Chev Martinez indefinitely.

      Gemma put the car in Reverse and glanced in the rearview mirror, then slammed on the brakes.

      Sitting behind her car, staring back at her was a large blue fowl, about three feet tall, with a sleek, pear-shaped body and elongated neck. He lifted his small, elegant head and emitted a loud, singsong call, then unfurled his tail plumage in an enormous, dazzling fan of iridescent greens, blues, aquas and golds, all sparkling in the morning sunshine.

      She gasped in delight, having never seen a peacock at such close range. It was an extraordinary creature and rather intimidating in its full extension as it preened. It also appeared to be rooted to the spot.

      Gemma backed the car out a few inches, hoping the movement would startle the bird into action, but he maintained his ground. She bit her lip and looked around. All was quiet. Nothing and no one around to distract the bird away from her driveway. She lightly tapped the car horn, but the cock merely bobbed his head, sending a plume of brilliantly colored feathers dancing. Gemma put the car into Park, and opened the door to step out.

      “Shoo!” She waved her arms and walked toward it. “Go away!”

      The creature seemed entirely unfazed.

      “Move, birdie!” she shouted, flapping her arms. “I have to be somewhere important!”

      The bird extended its neck and hissed at her. Gemma shrank back. She’d heard that peacocks could be aggressive and didn’t relish being flogged.

      Now what?

      A low, rolling laugh reached her ears. She turned her head to see Chev standing at the edge of her yard, hands on lean hips, surveying the situation, a grin on his handsome dark face. Her midsection tightened, both at the sight of him in clean worn jeans and T-shirt, and at the knowledge that he’d seen enough of her last night to play connect the freckles. How would he react to her having ignored him? Would he assume she hadn’t noticed she was being watched, or would he assume that she’d

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