She dragged the bags of lawn debris to the curb. Gemma removed her hat and used a glove to wipe away the perspiration on her hairline. She stared at her mailbox, wavering. Jason and Gemma White.
A shadow appeared overhead, then a loud yelp sounded. Gemma cried out and covered her head with her arms. The wide-winged peacock landed gracefully on the mailbox with a sound like a heavy blanket being shaken over a bed. The blue bird tucked in his wings and stared at her, his long train of tail feathers hanging to the ground, his head bobbing. The precise crown of feathers on its head gave the appearance of a Medieval war helmet topped with a colorful brush. Indeed, he didn’t look particularly friendly at the moment. He thrust his regal head forward and unleashed a series of high-pitched cries.
Gemma stumbled backward and fell hard on her tail-bone, then put up her arm to ward off the bird in case he decided she looked … mountable. “Go away!” she shouted, flailing to get to her feet.
A strong arm hauled her up. “Are you okay?” Chev asked, his face creased in concern.
“I’m fine,” she said, feeling foolish. And feeling something else at the familiarity of his touch.
He waved his arms at the bird until it flew up in the trees.
“I was hoping I’d seen the last of him,” she muttered.
“He’s stubborn,” Chev admitted. “It might take more to get rid of him than you planned.”
His words resonated with double meaning, but if his words sounded menacing, the mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes took the sting out of them.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” she said. “Again.”
“You’re welcome. I also came over to tell you that the thermostat for your HVAC unit arrived. I have my hands full right now, but I was thinking I could come over tomorrow and install it for you.”
She knew that his simply being in her house again would be a dangerous temptation. Gemma moistened her dry lips. “I have to work. Could you come over when I get home?”
His regard swept over her, grazing every nerve ending. “I’ll be watching.” Then he turned and walked away.
16
GEMMA’S PHONE RANG as she slid behind the wheel of her car for the commute home from the museum. It was Sue—again. Since yesterday morning her friend had left two messages to call, but Gemma hadn’t yet because she didn’t want to be grilled about Chev.
Yet at the third insistent ring she conceded with a sigh that she was only putting off the inevitable.
“Hello?”
“Well, it’s about freaking time. I was ready to come see you in person to make sure you were okay.”
“I’ve been busy,” Gemma hedged, starting her car.
“Good. With the neighbor?”
Damn … just the mention of Chev made her heart beat faster. “Sue, you’re making way too much out of this.”
“Humor me, okay? There’s nothing this juicy going on in my life.”
“He’s coming over to fix my air conditioner tonight. I wouldn’t call that juicy.”
“That depends on which tool he pulls out of his belt.”
Gemma couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s silliness. “When did you get so bawdy?”
“I’m envious. You have a sexy job and a hot new boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“So you don’t deny that he’s hot?”
“No comment.”
Sue laughed. “You don’t have to tell me. I can hear it. When you talk about this guy, your voice gets all low and husky. You never sounded that way when you talked about Jason.”
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