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"Erica Teague," she says. "But you know that already."
"Pleasure to meet you, Erica. Officially."
"Uh-huh." She withdraws her hand and folds her arms over her chest. "How did you know what I looked liked?"
"I arrived yesterday while you were out. When you came home, you set about tending to your rose bushes."
She bites her lip, averting her eyes for a moment. "The roses were here when I moved in."
"You care for them with such tenderness, it's wonderful to watch." I smile again, but this time with a touch of guilt. "Suppose I did stalk you, by accident. I truly am sorry about last night, though."
"Wasn't your fault." She studies me with narrowed eyes, pinching her lips into a slight pucker. "How do I know you're really housesitting for Gil and Jayne?"
"Ring him. He's at my place in Scotland and he's got his mobile. Said you knew the number."
I watch her expression, the tiny movements that suggest she's sizing me up as we speak. The lass doesn't trust me, not just yet. I can't blame her for that after the mixup last night. Maybe I should give her some space.
"Ring Gil," I say. "And if you want me, I'll be next door."
I go back to Gil's house and try to forget about Erica, at least for a while. She needs time to adjust to the fact I'll be living next door to her for twenty-eight days. The gentlemanly thing to do is to allow her that time.
And not look out the bloody living-room window.
Chapter Four
Yes, I fully intended to avoid glancing at Erica's house. I meant to leave her alone unless she decided to speak to me, but a few minutes after returning to Gil's house, I wander into the living room. I don't see Erica in her kitchen, and I can't decide if I'm relieved or disappointed. I didn't walk into this room because I hoped to get a glimpse of her. No, I felt like relaxing on the sofa and enjoying the view of…Erica's kitchen.
Bloody hell, I'm a moron. A man of my age should not be spying on his neighbor, no matter how sexy she might be. I wonder how old Erica is. Too young for me, I'm dead certain.
I settle in on the sofa with my laptop and browse the internet for…things. I don't know what I'm looking for because all I'm trying to do is stop thinking about the bonnie American next door.
A flash of movement in Erica's kitchen spurs me to look up from my computer.
Erica has just walked into the kitchen and is fussing with something on the counter while she talks to someone on her mobile phone.
No, I will not spy on her.
I go back to staring at my laptop, though everything on the screen has suddenly blurred. I cannae focus on websites. Cannae focus on anything with that beautiful lass living next door.
My eyes force me to look out the window.
Erica has just ended her call, which I can tell because she slipped the mobile into her jeans pocket.
Since I seem to have developed a fixation with the house next door, I continue peering out the window even after Erica leaves the kitchen. It's good that she left. I do not need to see her again.
Unless she knocks on my door.
"Mhac na galla," I hiss. I am a son of a bitch, in English and Gaelic, for even considering the possibility of starting anything with any woman, much less the younger lass next door.
To avoid glancing out the window, I leave my laptop on the living-room table and make my way to the kitchen. I can't see into Erica's house from here, though I can glimpse her porch.
A man saunters up the concrete path and hops up the three steps that lead onto the porch. He fiddles with his clothes as if he's making sure he looks good, then he smooths a hand over his blond hair and knocks on the door.
Erica swings the door open, but I can't see more than a glimpse of her hair. That bonnie, silky chestnut hair. When she sees the man, she retreats from him and seems to be using the door as a shield between them.
The man leans against the outside of the house beside the door and hooks a thumb in the pocket of his posh trousers. I'm no fashion expert, but even I can tell he's wearing expensive clothes. He must have arrived in the yellow Alpha Romeo that's parked at the curb in front of Erica's house. Despite the distance between where I'm standing and where he is, I can see the expression on his face. He gazes at Erica with a lustful slant to his lips.
Cannae blame him. She's stunning.
