(from:) STAY CLOSE, NOVAC!
Ian dabbed his lip with alcohol. He hadn’t counted on starting his day by falling off a ladder. Fortunately, the wound was nothing more than a bloody scratch. One good thing came of the mishap – Jessi Nordstrom. Wow! She was an eyeful. A disturbing eyeful. Not in the usual way. Instead of soft curves, she was muscular. Small chested. Thin but defined arms. Strong thighs and calves. A tight little butt.
He chuckled at the bead of anger she’d laid on him with violet eyes. Truthfully, he’d never seen eyes quite like them. Maybe they were colored contact lenses. Regardless, she was ready to slice and dice him with them until she discovered his injury. The second she homed in on his lip, she softened. And he liked it. More than liked it.
“Dammit, man, you’re not here to get chummy with the first woman to cross your path.” In fact, he wasn’t there to get chummy with any female. Women were the devil. Instantly a vision of his ex-wife popped into his mind and the f-bomb slid from his lips the way it always did when he thought about her. The well-built, shoe-loving, she-devil who dumped him a year ago for their millionaire neighbor turned his life upside down. Ian groaned. Thinking about Rachel made his chest hurt – probably some long-distance pricking from her damned pitchfork.
His gaze drifted to the bungalow next door. Jessi Nordstrom admitted a love for shoes and clothes too. Ian curled his lip and imagined the brown-haired, violet-eyed beauty with horns. She most likely had a pitchfork she was dying to use too.
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