At least, that was what she told herself. The man had some nerve, letting her dog out of his crate. Grudgingly, she admitted he had some balls, too, after the way Rolf had gone nuts on him. And Rolf had happily gone outside with him and retrieved the toy.
Rolf listened to no one but herself. At least until now. What about Nick had made her dog obey and look at him as if he were a god to worship?
She refused to ponder that one.
Jannie slanted Rolf a glance. He rested in aplatzat her feet, panting, eyes half-closed, with that self-satisfied expression of a dog well exercised.
A pang of guilt gripped her chest. She had neglected him terribly of late. German Shepherds weren’t meant to lounge like couch potatoes.
Through the glass patio doors, she watched Nick pick up severalbrown bags from the front entry and head back in long, leisurely strides, completely comfortable crossing her foyer.
Even in that ridiculous robe, he still managed to look dignified and confident.
As if he belonged here.
This was Blake’s house. They’d built it together, yet he’d never seemed at home here. He’d wanted a condo in Fort Lauderdale, JetBlue’s second hub in Florida, so he could be near the beach. She had insisted on Orlando, citing the lower risk of being hammered by hurricanes and her desire for a yard so she could get a German Shepherd. After much arguing, she’d won.
What had she won, exactly? His silent resentment? Looking back, the building of this house marked the beginning of the end of their marriage. The only good thing that had come out of it was the babies.
And they were gone.
Her throat tightened again, and her eyelids stung so much that she had to shut them tightly. She badly wanted to go to her room and throw the covers back over her head. To shut everything out and just sleep.
Instead, she heard the door slide open behind her. The breeze stirred, bringing with it the faint smell of Nick’s cologne, still detectable despite the dunk he’d taken. Just like before, it did something to her.
So did the sight of him, smiling and setting three paper bags on the high counter of the summer kitchen.
She eyed the greasy spots. “What is this?” The smell of fried food was already making her nostrils flare.
“Chicken,” he said. And grinned.
That flash of beautiful white teeth made something zing through her middle.
She looked away. “You ordered chicken?”
“Not just any chicken. Chi-Kin.”
Fried chicken just happened to be her favorite, and her mouth began to water. Jannie watched as he tore open one bag, turning it into a makeshift placemat. She got up and went to the other side of the counter to wash her hands, and the next thing she knew, he was right behind her. Her heart flipped in her chest, and she stepped aside, passing him thebar of soap she always kept by the sink. His fingertips grazed her slippery ones as he took the bar.
A tingle flitted across her breasts. She snatched up a napkin and quickly dried her hands. Her gaze refused to leave his long fingers as they got coated with the creamy soap, the tan bar rolling in his large palm.
Grabbing more napkins, she placed them near him on the counter and set about opening one of the bags, extracting paper plates and cellophane plasticware packets. She tore one open and used the spork to pull a pile of tenders onto a plate.
She pushed it toward Nick and set about getting some chicken for herself.
It smelled delicious. She bit into a crunchy strip and couldn’t suppress a moan.
Something in his dark gaze flared, and he smiled a little. “Good?”
She nodded. “These are incredible. What is this place called?”
“Chi-Kin. Little place on North Mills Avenue.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Highly rated online.” He popped a tender in his mouth, smiling as he chewed. He swallowed. “And deservedly so.”
“I love fried chicken.”
