Northern Renegade. JENNIFER LABRECQUE

even come close to a man’s touch, the slide of skin against skin, the fullness of a man’s penis inside her, but her orgasm as she’d imagined hard, rough sex—which was unlike any sex she’d had before—with Sergeant Alpha-Male Sharpshooter next door had been great. She’d slept like a baby and woken up ravenous.

      The screen door slammed and she glanced out the window. Liam wore running shoes, shorts and a sweatshirt. The man boasted some nice legs, that was for sure. She’d sort of missed that yesterday, she’d been so busy checking out other parts of his anatomy. Nicely muscled. He was just altogether a fine specimen of a man.

      He took off at a jog on the trail to the left of the cabins that skirted the lake. Swimming. Running. It all explained that nice hard body. With a start she realized she was scorching her eggs. She yanked the pan off the burner. His arrogant self would probably love the fact that she’d nearly burned her breakfast because of him.

      Regardless, she ate the eggs, at least the ones that hadn’t stuck to the bottom of the pan, and headed into the bedroom to get dressed. She eyed her meager wardrobe, hesitating in a way she never did over what to wear. Defiantly, she pulled on her least favorite shirt she’d packed and a pair of jeans. She might be in some crazy heightened sexual state over the man next door but she’d be damned if she’d alter her routine because of him.

      Ten minutes later, face washed, teeth and hair brushed, minimal makeup on, she settled on the sofa with her laptop. She opened her document and got herself oriented in the work.