“Oh.” Molly’s eyes shifted to his face. “I didn’t know that.”
“Many people don’t. Even a smile can be a problem because when dogs go on the attack, they bare their teeth. So they sometimes mistake a smile where teeth are showing as a challenge.”
“I see.” She glanced over at the dog whose stance seemed more relaxed since Devin’s arrival. She avoided his eyes. “I thought you said he was friendly, even gentle.”
“He is, once he gets to know you. Let me take you over and he’ll know you’re a friend.”
Molly walked with him, her gaze fixed on the fence rather than the animal she didn’t want to give the wrong signals to. At the gate, she felt Devin stop and move close behind her. He took her hand in his, then stretched toward the big dog.
“Hey, King,” Devin said in a firm voice. “Meet Molly, our new neighbor.” He drew Molly’s hand closer to King, allowing the dog to get familiar with her scent.
A scent that seemed oddly familiar to him already. She’d changed into denim shorts and a loose-fitting black shirt. Her bare legs were long and shapely. Devin felt his pulse stumble.
Molly’s breath backed up in her throat, whether from nervousness about the dog or because the man she’d met mere hours ago was all but wrapped around her. Her head only came to his chin. He was so tall, exuding a sense of power, yet making her feel oddly protected.
She watched the big animal sniff her hand, glance up at her, then lick his owner’s hand once with his pink tongue. After a moment, he touched his wet nose to Molly’s thumb. “Does this mean we’re friends?” she asked, wondering if everyone who came to visit her would have to go through this ritual before being accepted.
“I think he likes you,” Devin said, his voice a little husky. His face was almost in her hair, as he drew in a deep breath. He could smell shampoo and bath powder. “Did you just shower?”
The question surprised her. “Wouldn’t you, after eight hours slinging hash, so to speak? First thing I do after every shift is strip and shower.” Molly’s eyes grew round as her words echoed in her head. Why on earth did she blurt out every thought so graphically?
Devin’s fertile imagination pictured the shower scene perfectly. He glanced down at her small hand resting in his. He found himself not wanting to let go of her.
Molly felt her fingers grow damp with nerves. It had been years since she’d allowed a man to get this close. “How long must we stand here like this?” Molly asked, looking over her shoulder at him, a smile appearing at the absurdity of the situation.
“Two hours, three at the most.” He grinned, squeezed her hand and reluctantly let go.
“Well, that was fun,” Molly said to cover her embarrassment, “but I’ve got boxes to unpack.”
“I’ll help you,” he offered, walking with her to the car.
“Thanks, but I can manage just fine.”
Stubborn, independent and beautiful, Devin decided. She’d soon learn he could be stubborn, too. As soon as she opened the trunk, he lifted out what he guessed was the heaviest box.
“I told you…”
“Yeah, I know. Look, you’ve put in an eight-hour day, right? Mrs. Bailey tells me you’re a waitress and I know that’s hard work. I’ve done my share of slinging hash for tips and minimum wage. There are no strings attached if I haul in a few boxes for you, honest.” Holding the heavy container, he waited while she studied his face. He could almost see the wheels turning while she tried to figure out whether or not to believe him.
Molly didn’t want to set a precedent on the first day sharing this house with him, allowing him to think she was some helpless female who’d be ever so grateful for his heavy-handed help. She’d let him, this time, but she’d set some ground rules.
“What else did Mrs. Bailey tell you about me?” she asked, picking up a second box and heading for the back door. Maybe she’d have to have a little chat with her landlady about being less than pleased at being Topic A with her other tenants. Molly hadn’t been crazy about living in the large three-story apartment complex she was vacating, but at least a person could remain anonymous there if she wished. And she definitely wished.
Devin waited until she unlocked the door, then followed her into the kitchen and set the box on the counter where she indicated. “Not much, just that you waitressed at the Pan Handle with her daughter. Is the food good there?”
He was pretty adept at controlling the conversation, she decided. “Since I eat more than half my meals there, I must think so.”
“I’ll have to try it sometime,” Devin answered, following her back out to the car.
Molly waited until every box, bundle and bag was inside her new kitchen before turning to him. “Thanks. I appreciate your help.” She turned aside and began measuring shelf paper she’d brought along, obviously dismissing him.
“Where do you want to stack these canned goods?” he asked, poking around in a sack.
He was either obtuse or being deliberately annoying. Molly stopped and drew in a deep, calming breath. She checked her watch, then looked up at him. “Look, I’ve been on the move since six this morning and it’s nearly eight. It’s been a long day and I really want to get this done tonight. So, if you don’t mind…”
“It’ll go much faster if we do it together. I moved my stuff in earlier and it takes forever if you work alone.” Devin wasn’t sure why he wanted to help her. Maybe it was because he was a nice guy. Or maybe it was because she looked dead on her feet and he knew how that felt. More likely it was because she attracted him and it had been a long while since anyone had.
Scissors in hand, Molly studied him. He wore a V-neck black T-shirt and tan shorts, a generous sprinkling of dark hair visible on his muscular legs and what she could see of his chest. She’d never been especially drawn to obviously virile-looking men. Why then did this one interest her despite her usual reluctance? “Are you always this insistent?”
Grinning, he shrugged. “Sometimes even more so.” Damn but he had a dynamite smile. He was wearing her down and she was too tired to argue. “Just my luck.” She indicated the long cupboard at the far end. “Cans in there, if you insist.”
Chalk up one for our side, Devin thought as he opened the pantry cupboard. “Any particular order? Want them alphabetized or arranged by category, like fruits one side, vegetables opposite?”
Though he had his back to her, Molly sent him an incredulous look. “You’ve got to be kidding? Do you honestly do that in your kitchen?”
Still smiling, he began unpacking cans. “Yeah, but it’s real easy at my place. I have two cans of soup and one box of microwave popcorn.” He studied the can he held. “Spaghetti sauce. Funny, I’d have bet you made your own sauce from scratch.” His mother always had, even while raising six kids and working full-time.
Carefully, Molly stretched to fit the shelf paper she’d cut in place. “Fast and easy, that’s my style. Actually, I’ve never mastered the fine art of cooking. Growing up, my mom cooked, then at college, our landlady was a terrific cook.” And when she’d married Lee, he’d tasted one or two of her efforts and hired a cook, but she decided not to mention that. “Today, with all the shortcuts available, you can eat really well and not know how to do much besides read the labels.”
He glanced over, taking in those incredibly long, sleek legs. “Yeah, but I thought all women knew how to cook, like it was in the genes or something.”
“Sorry to explode that little myth.”
Devin finished emptying one sack and went searching for another from where they were stacked on the floor while Molly went to work on the second shelf.
“Where