BARELY BEHAVING Read online

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  She wasn't kowtowing to public opinion, but she'd become a little more circumspect since she'd gone into business for herself. She glanced down at her plunging neckline and hip huggers and laughed. It was more conservative than wearing a towel.

  She stepped out onto the patio. There, Gigi lounged indolently on the chaise, full of bold attitude. Tammy laughed at the audacity of the funny-looking little dog. "Come on, you. Your family wants you back." She walked past the dog and snapped her fingers.

  Surprisingly, Gigi hopped down and flounced along beside her.

  The lush grass cushioned her bare feet as she crossed the yard to her waiting neighbor. The man's dark brown hair, a few weeks past a good haircut, glinted in the sun. Nice square jaw, his hooked nose a shade too big by most standards but very masculine. Even now, fully clothed, self-consciousness caused her to flush as she approached him.

  "One small dog returned to you." She opened the gate and the little dog pranced through.

  A worn T-shirt hung on him, revealing well-muscled arms. Even though he was built like a former linebacker—who'd managed not to go to fat—his stance lacked the aggressive arrogance so common in big men. Nerves fluttered low in her belly.

  "On the porch, Gigi," he ordered with affectionate tolerance, then turned to face Tammy. Her breath hitched in her throat. Oh, baby! Up close, he possessed the most extraordinary, soulful, brown eyes—yummy, sinfully rich pools of dark chocolate flecked with caramel framed by long dark lashes. They were a sensuous contrast to the masculine lines of his face and his strong nose. Their impact coursed through her all the way to her toes and sent her mind tumbling between the sheets.

  "I apologize again for Gigi's bad manners. I'm Niall Fortson." He extended a massive hand.

  Hadn't she heard once that the size of a man's hand, or was it his feet—instinctively she glanced down—indicated the size of… She yanked her gaze up and her mind out of the gutter. She had to stop thinking this way.

  "I'm Tammy Bran-uh, Cooper," she stumbled over the last name, but now was as good a time as any to go back to her maiden name. "No harm done with Gigi." She grasped his hand. His palm was warm and dry, his clasp sure and solid, and his touch echoed through her, setting off sparks. She desperately needed a good … dose of control. One touch and she was ready to jump him.

  Her hand still tingled, even after the handshake ended. Actually his touch had more than her hand tingling. She checked out his ring finger. Naked. Of course, the lack of a wedding ring didn't mean much. Any minute now she expected a perky blonde to bounce around the corner with a couple of cute-as-pie kids in tow. Gigi had woman's dog written all over her. Tammy discreetly squinted past him to his front porch.

  "Are you looking for something?" He glanced over his shoulder.

  So much for discretion. "Just thought I'd meet the rest of the family."

  Niall whistled. A massive dog lumbered out the front door. "Tammy meet Memphis. Memphis, Tammy Cooper."

  Memphis hiked a leg before ambling over to sniff her crotch in greeting—definitely a man's dog. "Uh, hi there," she offered. Good grief, her entire hand would fit in the dog's massive mouth.

  "He's harmless," Niall reassured her.

  "I'll take your word for it." She wasn't nearly as comfortable with this beast as she was with the toe-biter.

  He laughed, a low pleasing rumble that slid over her like a warm blanket on a cold night. "So, you've met Memphis and Gigi. The cats are still in their carriers. They don't travel well so I sedated them before we left." He grimaced.

  Okay, this was why she usually skipped subtlety. It didn't get her anywhere. She'd met her fair share of married men who conveniently forgot to mention the wife and kids. She'd openly fish and if he didn't bite she'd point blank ask him if he was married. "We as in the rest of your family?"

  He grinned and she realized he'd known all along she wanted to find out he was married. "We as in me and the animals. No kids. And my ex-live-in—or significant other, whatever you want to call her—stayed with the house in Oklahoma City."

  The significant other business surprised her. Niall Fortson didn't look like the shacking up type. She didn't exactly know what the shacking up type looked like but it wasn't him. The ex-significant other explained Gigi.

  "Gigi belonged to your ex?" She'd bet the farm.

  Surprise flitted across his face. "How'd you know?"

  Aha. Her instincts hadn't failed her. "Lucky guess. How'd you wind up with her? The dog, not your ex." Shoot her for being nosy, but inquiring minds wanted to know.

  "Mia wanted Gigi and then decided she was too high-maintenance."

  Mia. She sounded like an urbane sitcom character. Tammy had a feeling the woman had been far more high-maintenance than the dog.

  He peered over her shoulder in teasing imitation. "What about your family?"

  Tammy laughed at his easy ribbing. "It's just me." It felt good to say that—no, make that great. "My ex-husbands, all three of them, stayed with the houses." Might as well air the multiple divorces up front.

  "Probably a good thing. It could get crowded with three ex-husbands hanging around." Niall quirked his mouth in a lopsided smile that started in his eyes and radiated to engage the rest of his face. A small scar along his upper lip added a hint of rugged sexiness. Tammy's pulse quickened and a slow heat curled through her. A sense of humor and a bone-melting smile. "Any pets?"

  "No. No pets."

  "And now you're living next to Wild Kingdom." Another dose of that smile and her heart rate did another bump and grind. "I'll try to keep Gigi on my side of the fence."

  "Your animals are fine. I don't have anything against animals—I just don't want the responsibility." Or another gaping wound that came with losing a pet. Once had been enough. Pets and kids were cool as long as they belonged to someone else.

  Thank God she'd had the sense to go on the pill at a young age and not jump into motherhood during any of her marriages. She'd been thrown into the mother role when Martha Rae, as she'd thought of her mom for years now, abandoned their family. Not only had Tammy done a lousy job mothering Olivia and their brother Marty, she'd had enough of it to last a lifetime.

  "They do require commitment." Did she simply imagine it or did his ready smile falter a bit? He obviously had a thing for animals.

  "What brings you to Colthersville?" Tammy asked, filling in what had become an awkward silence. And she was curious.

  "I'm a vet. I'm joining Dr. Schill's practice."

  Didn't that just rip? Yeah, he had a thing for animals. "Congratulations. Dr. Schill's a good vet, even if he is an old goat."

  Surprise raised his brows. "Okay. Thanks for the information."

  She thought she'd shown some restraint. She positively loathed the man. She could've called him a lech.

  It was a much more accurate description. "Sorry. I call 'em the way I see 'em. I was married to Dr. Schill's son."

  Niall winced. "Things didn't end well?"

  The beginning had been great with Allen and the ending had been fine. It was the in between that had stunk on ice. From the day they'd married, Dr. Schill acted as if Tammy wasn't good enough for his son. Then the randy old goat had cornered her in the kitchen and put the move on her one Thanksgiving. A well-placed knee had taken care of the immediate situation. Later, when she'd mentioned it to Allen, he'd defended his father, claiming Tammy had misunderstood his dad. In her book, it was difficult to misunderstand the old guy squeezing her breasts. Her marriage had gone downhill from there.

  She shrugged. "It was a long time ago. Allen was my second husband. He's remarried and he and Jenna have two kids now, so all's well."

  An ant marched across her bare foot. She shifted to one foot and nudged it off with her toe, swaying slightly. Niall reached out and wrapped his hand around her upper arm. "Steady."

  "Thanks." A soft shiver slid down her spine at his touch. He dropped his hand and in an instant she was back to two feet firmly on the ground, but the heat evoked by his to
uch continued to radiate through her.

  "It's safe to mention you're the girl next door?"

  She laughed aloud at the idea of her being the girl next door. Like any other place, small or otherwise, Colthersville had its share of gossips and she'd given them plenty to talk about over the years. It'd take about two seconds for anyone in Colthersville to fill him in on her reputation.

  "That'd be a poor choice of words. I don't think anyone who knows me would buy into the girl next door label. I'm the resident bad girl."

  And he might just be Mr. Right Now.

  * * *

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  "Bad is a relative term. You don't strike me as bad at all." As a rule, Niall liked people—almost as much as he liked animals—but in the span of five minutes he found himself inordinately drawn to Tammy Cooper.

  A cynic would've said it was due to his first glimpse of her naked, but it was more than that. Of course, he'd never forget that first sight of her—and she wasn't going to let him, either.

  "In case you missed it, I was naked when I met you." He would've had to be dead to have missed it but, thank you, Jesus, he'd been alive, cognizant and fully appreciative. "Has it been your experience that nice girls sit around naked?" Her amazing blue eyes sparkled. The little vixen was thoroughly enjoying needling him.

  "Actually, I have very little experience with women sitting around naked. Nice or otherwise." If she wanted to play the bad girl, he'd play her straight man.

  Niall propped his arm against the fence and really looked at Tammy Cooper—a much safer proposition now that she was fully clothed. Bottle-blond hair just this side of brassy—he'd known from when she jumped up earlier she wasn't a true blonde. Sky-blue eyes with a hint of wariness beneath all the makeup. Gauzy, white shirt with a plunging neckline and the provocative thrust of dusky nipples. Bare midriff with a gold navel ring—he had no clue why that was such a turn-on but it was—above low-slung jeans. Bare feet with a toe ring. Very sexy. "However, I hardly think that naked qualifies you as a bad girl."

  She tilted her head, her hair sweeping against her shoulder. She smelled like coconut and her golden skin glistened with suntan lotion. "Did you miss the three husbands I mentioned?" A thread of tension ran through her laughing banter.

  No. He hadn't missed her obvious attempt to warn him off. Instead of off-putting, he found it intriguing. "Duly noted." Niall, known for his congeniality, discovered a perverse pleasure in arguing with her. "I thought you were very nice about Gigi. You didn't throw a screaming fit when she surprised you." Mia damn well would've and Cissy, the Realtor, had certainly maintained her distance. "Instead you laughed."

  His comment coaxed another laugh and a one-shouldered shrug, which did incredible things to the low neckline of her blouse, which in turn did incredible things to his breathing. She had a nice laugh—warm, throaty, sexy. Hell, she turned simple breathing into a sexy experience.

  "Tiny Mite the Attack Dog was funny." Her husky voice stroked through him, firing all those impulses inside that hadn't fired in a long time—perhaps ever.

  He and Mia had shared a healthy sexual relationship but he'd never experienced this kind of reaction to a woman before. And it wasn't just because he'd seen her naked. She exuded an innate sensuality that brought to mind sweat-slicked bodies and hot, sticky sex.

  Inside her house, the phone rang. She stepped away.

  "I'll try and keep Gigi in my yard."

  "Don't worry about it." She winked at him. Deliberately. Provocatively. "And I'll let you in on a secret. Even bad girls like to laugh."

  He didn't think he'd forget it anytime soon.

  * * *

  Inviting Niall Fortson over for dinner was the neighborly thing to do, she reasoned as she rubbed fresh, pungent garlic and black pepper over two thick steaks. It had nothing to do with his sense of humor, his chocolate brown eyes or the heat tremors he'd set off with a single handshake. Well, maybe it had a little to do with that, but mostly it was a matter of being neighborly. She knew all about moving into a neighborhood without a friendly welcome. It was the pits.

  The man traveled light, she'd give him that. It was a small moving van and it hadn't taken him long to unload. He'd carried in a Nautilus machine with apparent ease when she'd returned from the grocery store earlier, which explained his nicely muscled shoulders and arms.

  She washed and dried her hands. She was being weird and neurotic to be so nervous about inviting him into her space. For sweet pity's sake, it was a house, not some inner sanctum. Before she could change her mind again and weenie out, she slipped out the back door. Tammy crossed the yard to his front door and rang the bell.

  Sharp, staccato barking erupted on the opposite side of the door. "It's me. From next door."

  Surprisingly, the barking stopped. Within seconds Niall opened the door, a towel in one hand. "Hi." A welcoming smile lit his eyes and set off an internal heat wave. "I just got out of the shower," he added with a charming note of self-consciousness.

  That visual image left her nearly breathless. She didn't have to close her eyes to imagine hot water sluicing over his bare, male, hair-roughened body. Droplets of water clinging to his broad chest, the flat planes of his belly, the jutting line of his…

  She'd been good way too long. She'd focused on her business and her house. Now she was in close proximity to a decent man and she felt like a nymphomaniac turned loose on a football team. Overwrought, oversexed and out of control.

  She tried to focus. Where were they? Oh, yeah. Him. Just out of the shower.

  "I see." Damp footprints glistened against the dark hardwood floor. Niall's wet hair stuck up as if he'd just toweled it. He'd traded in jeans and a T-shirt for a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. There was a disquieting intimacy and eroticism in his bare feet, with their masculine sprinkling of hair. There was also something inherently sexy in his tousled hair, the scent of male deodorant and warm, damp skin. "Is this a bad time?" she managed to ask.

  "No. Not at all." Gigi danced around Tammy's legs. "Back off, Gigi," he ordered with a shake of his head. He glanced at Tammy, his brown eyes full of laughing apology. "She likes you. Unfortunately, Gigi is obnoxious around anyone who is the object of her affections."

  "She's fine." Tammy found the little dog's outgoing cuteness disconcerting—she didn't ever want to feel attachment to an animal again—but not obnoxious.

  Niall stood aside. "Come in if you're not afraid of the boxes and the beasts."

  Tammy stepped into his house, past his male, fresh-showered scent. "I came over to offer dinner. Nothing fancy. Just steak, salad and potato."

  "How fast can I say yes?"

  For an instant she thought he might scoop her up and kiss her, he looked so excited at the prospect of food. And there were worse things that could happen. He had a nice firm mouth and that intriguing scar on his upper lip.

  She'd been pretty sure Niall wouldn't turn down her invitation to a hot meal. Exactly what kind of invitation would he turn down, if any?

  "That was fast enough. Why don't you come over in about half an hour? We can wash down some chips and salsa with cold beers before dinner."

  "Cold beer?" Niall looked like he'd died and gone to heaven.

  "Yep." And if he looked any sexier, with his tousled hair and hint of a five o'clock shadow darkening his jaw, she couldn't be held accountable for her actions.

  "Hot salsa?" His voice held a ragged edge.

  She swallowed hard, her breath as ragged as his tone. The connection between food and sex had never been so achingly apparent. "It's the only way I like it. The hotter, the better."

  "I'll be over as soon as I change and clean up a bit. I need to find my razor." He ran a hand along his jaw and offered a rueful smile.

  "You're fine." Unshaven and undressed would be even finer.

  "It'll get better once I unpack."

  She'd been so caught up in Niall she hadn't paid any attention to the house. Now she openly looked around. To the left o
f the door, the Nautilus machine sat in the middle of the dining room beneath a wrought-iron chandelier. In the den, to her right, a worn bookcase stood sentinel to an equally worn sofa, a scarred coffee table, a floor lamp that reminded her of the one at Pops's house, and half a dozen moving boxes. He owned some butt-ugly furniture, that was for sure.

  "You travel pretty light."

  Niall shrugged and his expression tightened. He jerked a thumb toward the den. "This was stuff from my days in vet school."

  Hmmm. She'd bet a dollar to a donut the ex in Oklahoma was parked on a much better-looking sofa.

  "I'd offer you a tour, but I'm sure you've seen the house before."

  "Actually, I've never been inside. An older couple lived here before. They moved out a few months after I moved in. I've lived next door for less than a year." She didn't mention it had taken almost the whole seven months she'd lived in the house for the neighbors to accept her. Tammy wasn't sure whether they'd been disappointed or relieved when time had proven she was just another home owner, not a wild orgy hostess. The fact of the matter was, Tammy was a bit of a loner. Olivia was her only visitor, except for the time her brother Marty had stopped in to borrow twenty bucks to buy a bottle of booze.

  "Then how about the grand tour?" Without waiting for an answer, he started. "To your left is the former dining room, now known as the workout room." She chuckled at his very guylike grin. "To your right is the den. The one-eared tabby on the back of the sofa is Tex. The orange cat peering between the boxes is Lolita." When she heard her name, the marmalade cat limped from her hiding spot and leaped to the sofa to join Tex—pretty agile for a cat with only three legs.

  "Hi, Tex. Hi, Lolita." Tex returned her greeting with a basilisk stare and Lolita yawned daintily. They were the most pathetic-looking cats she'd ever seen. Niall Fortson seemed to have a soft spot for rejects.