Barely Behaving

Niall suspected that little Gigi had a bit of a foot fetish…

“Come, Gigi,” Niall called the dog.

Gigi ignored him, squeezing beneath the fencing and launching herself across the neighboring yard like a seven-pound rocket. Just as Niall reached the fence line, Gigi attacked the pair of bare toes hanging over a chaise lounge. The woman screamed and leaped to her feet.

In an instant, Niall’s world tilted on its axis. His neighbor was heart-stopping, blood-pumping naked. He struggled to focus on the woman’s face. It was damn hard.

“Let me guess—you’re my new neighbor and this belongs to you.” She nodded toward Gigi. Her distinctly Southern drawl held more than a note of amusement.

“Uh, yeah. I’m sorry we…uh…interrupted you.”

“No problem—I didn’t want to burn anyway.” Her friendly smile was faintly provocative.

Although totally nude, the woman was calm, cool and collected. He, on the other hand, couldn’t put together a cohesive sentence.

But he did know that he liked the neighborhood already….

Dear Reader,

I first met Tammy Cooper when I wrote my first Temptation novel, Barely Mistaken. Tammy, the heroine’s sister, was a bad girl—bad attitude, bad track record, bad reputation. But the more I got to know Tammy, the more I realized she wasn’t all that bad, just misunderstood. It’s trite, but true. Beneath the rebellious facade beat the heart of a vulnerable woman who deserved to be happy—even if she didn’t think so.

That’s the beauty of writing for Temptation—I got to give Tammy her own happy ending. But not just any man would do. Tammy had already tried that, and it didn’t work. No, Tammy needed a man who would delve deep enough to discover the true woman who hid behind the reputation. And lucky for her, that man moved in just next door….

Things heat up pretty quickly between them, and they learn two valuable lessons. One, that Tammy’s not as bad as she pretends, and two—that Niall is even better than he looks…. I hope you enjoy Barely Behaving. I’d love to hear from you. You can write to me at P.O. Box 801068, Acworth, GA 30101.

Happy reading,

Jennifer LaBrecque

Books by Jennifer LaBrecque

HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION

886—BARELY MISTAKEN

904—BARELY DECENT

HARLEQUIN DUETS

28—ANDREW IN EXCESS

52—KIDS+COPS=CHAOS

64—JINGLE BELL BRIDE

Barely Behaving

Jennifer LaBrecque

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Jake, forever in our hearts, Advantage and Cleopatra (formerly known as Fair Game). Also to Catherine McGovern and Southeastern Greyhound Adoption (SEGA) for their tireless dedication to saving these magnificent animals.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Prologue

“SEX, MARRIAGE AND MEN don’t mix. I like sex and I like men. But I’m skipping marriage from here on out. And this time I mean it.”

Tammy Lorelei Cooper Williams Schill Brantley tossed her latest divorce decree onto her kitchen’s tiled island. The papers skidded past the miniature tabletop Christmas tree toward her younger sister, Olivia. “And I’m taking back my maiden name. I’m going back to Cooper. I’ve finally figured out who I am.” And by God, she liked the woman she’d come to know.

“I wish you’d let me kick your ex-husbands’ no-good cheating butts.” Olivia’s gray eyes held a blood-thirsty glint.

Tammy laughed and shook her head as she scooped ice into the blender. Her quiet, conservative little sister had a whole other side. Especially now that Olivia was nine weeks pregnant. With her wildly fluctuating hormones, Olivia could shift from butt-kicking mad to uncontrollably weepy in sixty seconds.

“I appreciate the sentiment and I’ve thought about doing it myself a few times, but they’re not worth it. Men are all pretty much the same when you come right down to it. They’re made that way. Which means they’ll take good sex any way they can get it. Even mediocre sex. Hey, just make that readily available sex.”

Or at least that seemed to be the case with her ex-husbands. Tammy dressed sexy and she was an admitted flirt, but she’d taken her wedding vows seriously—she didn’t fool around when she was married and she didn’t fool around with someone else’s spouse. Unfortunately, her ex-husbands hadn’t shared her outlook.

She poured cranberry juice in the blender and tossed in pineapple chunks and a banana. She topped it off with a vitamin and soy packet.

Olivia pulled out two glasses from the cabinet. “Not all men are that way. You married good old boys who thought you should wait at home while they played the field.”

Not pretty, but apropos. “That about sums up Jerry, Allen and Earl.”

“But they’re not all like that. You just haven’t met the right man yet,” Olivia said.

Tammy shook her head. Newlyweds. They always wanted to share the love.

“Personally, I don’t believe in Mr. Right. But I wouldn’t mind a round or two with Mr. Right Now. A year without sex—” Olivia checked her with a raised brow. “Okay. If I have to count the attempted reconciliation quickie with Earl—and I shouldn’t have to because it wasn’t very good—then it’s been ten and a half months. But as of today, I’m no longer a married woman, so when Mr. Right Now comes along, watch out. It’s been so bad lately I’m afraid to be left alone in the produce section.” And she was only partly kidding. Ten and a half months was a long time.

During her separation, she’d been seriously tempted by two men. Earl’s sister’s husband, Tim, was a hottie. Tim had stroked her ego at a time she desperately needed it and offered to stroke other things. Lowell Evans, the town hunk, had also offered his own brand of solace. Hard as it’d been, she’d turned them both down.

“You can talk about Mr. Right Now, but I think you’re an incurable romantic beneath all that cynicism.” Speculation underlaid Olivia’s laugher.

“Nope. Wrong on both counts. I’m a reformed romantic who’s evolved into a realist.” It was almost embarrassing to recall her naive certainty at seventeen that she and Jerry would love one another forever. That had died a swift but painful death when she’d caught him boinking Lilly Lawson. She’d hoped for love ’til death do us part when she’d married Allen. By the time she’d married Earl—she wasn’t proud to admit it, even to herself—there’d been a hint of desperation in her pursuit of true love. “After three matrimonial rounds, I’ve figured out men consider fidelity a mutual fund investment.”

Olivia uttered a compound obscenity Tammy’d never heard her use before. Actually, she didn’t think Olivia knew words like that.

“Did you learn that from Luke?” It was still mind blowing Olivia had married a rebel like Luke Rutledge instead of Luke’s straight-arrow brother, whom she’d dated. Almost as strange as Tammy and Olivia becoming close friends and confidantes after thirty years of uneasy sisterhood.

Olivia smirked and pushed her tortoiseshell glasses more firmly on her nose. “No. I already knew it. But he does encourage me to use it.”

“Well, don’t get all wigged out about my exes. The way I see it, they did me a favor. Who knows if I would’ve even finished massage therapy school and I probably wouldn’t have opened my own business if I’d stayed with Earl.”

Indignation rolled off Olivia. “What a load of rot, telling you he was sleeping around because you were too busy with classes and work.”

Tammy shrugged and turned on the blender, grinding the fruit and ice to a smoothie. “He was an affair waiting to happen. If it’d been up to Earl, I’d still be doing acrylics in his sister’s salon and asking him for grocery money each week.”

Olivia would never know the half of it. Earl had made Tammy’s life hell. A shiver slid down her spine. Just talking about it made her appreciate what a close call she’d had.

Olivia swore again.

“You like that word don’t you?”

“It’s appropriate.”

“Well, at least half of it’s on target, but I don’t think it’s fair to drag his mother into it. Anyway, I’m kicking butt in the best way possible. Living well is the best revenge. I’ve got my own house, my own business, and I’ve done it on my own. All of them thought I was nothing without them. Hell, for the longest time, I thought I was nothing without them.”

Another mood shift struck again and Olivia teared up. “I am so proud of you. You’ve done great.”

“Thanks.” Olivia’s approval meant a lot to her. “I have done great.” Tammy loved her small house, her business and her newfound independence. She was doing better than great—not too shabby for the white-trash girl with the bad reputation whose mother abandoned their family and whose father couldn’t kick the bottle. And it had only taken her fifteen years and three bad marriages to find herself. She wasn’t about to get off track again.

She poured their liquid lunch into two glasses.

“I’d like to propose a toast,” Olivia said, hoisting her glass. “Goodbye, Earl.”

“I’ll drink to that.” She clinked her glass against her sister’s, elated to close that chapter of her life. She didn’t even want to talk about it anymore. She was her own woman now. “And here’s to spending the rest of my day off working on my Vitamin D therapy.” Tammy laughed at Olivia’s blank expression. “I’m going to work on my all-over tan.”

“You’re nuts. It’s November.”

“It’s gorgeous outside—a record high today and then it’s supposed to be twenty-five degrees cooler tomorrow. Plus the Walters’ place next door has been sold. That means my naked tanning days are numbered.”

And it was one of her favorite things to do. Between a screen of trees and her fence, she couldn’t see Mrs. Flander’s house to her right at all. Unfortunately, the Walters’ backyard offered an unencumbered view of her patio about halfway down the fence line.

“Go for it.” Olivia glanced at her watch and jumped up. “Gotta run. We’ve got a seniors’ book club meeting at the library in half an hour. Thanks for the smoothie, congrats on getting rid of Earl and enjoy your afternoon naked.”

“Thanks. Maybe I’ll get lucky and run into Mr. Right Now.” Olivia shook her head. Tammy laughed and pressed several smoothie additive packets into Olivia’s hand. “Don’t forget to drink one a day. It’s good for you and the babelet.”

“Yes, boss.”

Tammy waited until Olivia reached her car before she closed the front door.

It was time to get naked.

1

“I LIKE IT ALREADY.” Niall Fortson stood next to the U-Haul beneath the sprawling oak that encompassed the postage-stamp front yard. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with fresh, clean air.

As an army brat, he’d traipsed from military post to military post, all the while craving a place where he could put down roots and start a family. A place similar to his grandparents’ small town, where he’d spent his summers chasing fireflies at dusk and fishing the deep pools along the banks of the muddy Cohutta.

Colthersville, Georgia, was just where he wanted to be.

Gigi, a Pomeranian Chihuahua mix, and Memphis, a cream puff disguised as a bull mastiff, clambered out of the moving van.

Cissy Simpson, the local Realtor, kept a careful eye on Gigi and Memphis as she beamed and gestured toward the residential street with its modest frame houses. “It’s an older neighborhood, but quiet and the backyards are nice and big.” She flashed a professional smile and herded him up the walkway. “Just what you ordered and quite a deal.”

He followed Cissy toward the broad steps fronting the porch. Gigi and Memphis dashed around the yard, marking bushes with the frenzy of dogs in a new place.

“The dogs like it.”

“Good.” She smiled tightly at the dogs. Definitely a cat person. “Now let’s see…the front steps have been replaced. The whole house has a fresh coat of paint….”

His mind wandered while she ran through her litany of the owner’s improvements. The rambling frame house with its mullioned windows was a far cry from the brick-fronted Georgian tract mansion he’d shared with Mia in their cookie-cutter subdivision. He already preferred this.

And he’d feel the same even if he wasn’t still mildly—okay, actively—pissed off that Mia had flushed eight years together down the toilet rather than marry him. It wasn’t Colthersville or the move she’d objected to. They’d always planned on Niall buying into a small-town practice and on getting married. But when the time came, Mia had been willing to make the move but not willing to marry him, regardless of how important it was to him.

She’d dictated they could move on her terms or he could leave alone.

He’d left. The house. The furniture. Her. He’d grabbed his animals, his books, his veterinary journals and a hodgepodge of stuff from his college days that Mia had relegated to the basement, and left. Yeah, it still rankled.

“So, are you ready to see the inside?” Cissy stared at him expectantly.

He shook off the past. “Let me get the cats out first,” he said.

Cissy waited by the front door while he retrieved the cat carriers from the front seat of the moving van.

Niall mounted the steps with Tex and Lolita. “This is the new place, guys.” The cats blinked, still mellowed by tranquilizers.

“You’re a veritable Dr. Doolittle.” Cissy eyed the cats much more warmly than the dogs.

“Comes with being a veterinarian. We tend to like animals.”

“I see.” She obviously didn’t get his attempted humor. She opened the front door and gestured him inside. “Welcome home, Dr. Fortson.”

Niall stepped inside and settled the cat carriers next to the wall. Time worn hardwood floors smelled of wax. Sunlight slanted through uncurtained windows in the two rooms flanking the shotgun hall, casting diamond patterns on the wood floor. Even without curtains and furniture, it felt welcoming and comfortable.

“The bedrooms are upstairs.” Cissy gestured to a craftsman-styled staircase angled to the left.

He’d given her three criteria, a large, fenced yard, a dishwasher and a moderate price tag. Buying Dr. Schill’s vet practice had soaked up his cash.

The house’s price tag had been moderate. Cissy’d assured him it came with a dishwasher. He whistled for the dogs. “I’d like to check out the backyard.”

Cissy carefully avoided the dogs as they charged past, Gigi’s toenails clicking a rhythm on the wood floors while Memphis moved through like a small herd of elephants. “It’s straight ahead and out through the kitchen. Now, about the kitchen, it’s very—” Cissy hesitated, as if searching for a word.

Niall followed her into the room, then stopped in his tracks.

“Turquoise,” he supplied.

“Retro,” she countered.

“Yeah.” Christ. The kitchen hadn’t been part of Cissy’s cyber home tour. Now he knew why. “I didn’t know they made those in turquoise.”

Bright lemon yellow walls provided a backdrop for the blue-green appliances. He and Mia had dropped a couple of thousand dollars on a custom-designed refrigerator and dishwasher to match the cabinetry in their kitchen. “It’s, uh…”

“Cheery,” Cissy suggested with a bright smile. “I hate to run but I’ve got a two o’clock appointment.” She grabbed his hand and pumped it. Ye gods, the woman had the grip of a sumo wrestler. “Welcome to Colthersville and enjoy your new home.” She backed toward the hallway. “I’ll see myself out. Let me know if I can help you with anything else,” she called over her shoulder.

The front door closed behind Cissy and Niall crossed the cheery kitchen. He opened the back door and the dogs raced outside, clambering across a wooden deck to the fenced yard beyond.

Niall stepped out on the deck, satisfied. This more than made up for the kitchen. The majority of his half-acre lot sat behind the house, enclosed by a wooden privacy fence. Gigi and Memphis took off across the weed-studded lawn, a canine odd couple. A faint breeze stirred a swing into motion beneath a bare-branched oak. Spent wildflowers choked the lot’s back corner. A nostalgic air enveloped the property, as if time had stood still. The kitchen was definitely stuck in the seventies. He grinned at the notion.

The dogs loved it here already. The unmowed grass, although overgrown, appeared healthy. A sense of belonging he’d yearned for all his life enveloped him.

He looked at the property to the right. Whoa. A shapely pair of ankles and feet hung over the end of a chaise lounge. Interest strummed through him. Shrubs hid the rest of the woman—those feet and ankles could only belong to a woman. He’d obviously spent too much time behind the wheel of the moving van if he felt this much interest in a pair of legs—make that one-fifth of a pair of legs.

“Hello,” he called, loud enough to carry across the distance. The feet didn’t even twitch. “Hi, there.” He tried again, louder yet. Still no response. Maybe she was asleep. Or hard of hearing. The feet and ankles were nice, but, hell, she might be older than his own mother, for all he knew.

If he walked over to the fence and down a bit, he could probably see past the shrub. Niall nixed the idea, deliberately turning away. That’d be great. He could move into town and earn a reputation as a Peeping Tom, all in one afternoon. News traveled fast in small towns. Have you heard? The new vet’s a perve. He laughed into the warm day at the idea.

His laughter died a quick death as Gigi squeezed beneath the fencing—she’d found a hole—and disappeared to the other side. The side belonging to the geriatric sunbather. Damn it to hell. Gigi loved to nibble on toes—one of her more endearing traits.

“Gigi. Come. Come, Gigi,” he commanded.

Gigi behaved as usual. She ignored him, launching herself across the neighboring yard like a seven-pound rocket. Niall loped across his yard. Gigi was over there. He was over here. He aimed for damage control.

Just as he reached the fence line, Gigi attacked the bare toes hanging over the chaise. The woman screamed and leaped to her feet.

In an instant, Niall’s world tilted on its axis. She wasn’t geriatric and she was heart-stopping, blood-pumping naked. Except for a navel ring, earphones and a pair of sunglasses—and they didn’t particularly count.

Niall struggled to focus on the woman’s face. It was damn hard. She plucked off her earphones.

“Let me guess, you’re my new neighbor and this belongs to you.” She nodded toward Gigi who had commandeered the chaise lounge. Her distinctly southern drawl held more than a note of amusement.

With unhurried movements, the woman tugged the towel from beneath the dog and wrapped it around her, sarong-style, tucking the knot in the cleft of her breasts.

She lowered her glasses and peered over them, her sparkling blue eyes encouraging him to speak up. She appeared more amused than embarrassed. Although totally nude moments ago, she was calm, cool and collected. He, fully clothed, couldn’t seem to bumble through an introduction.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry about this. We’re your new neighbors. Meet Gigi. She’s more bravado than brains. I’m sorry we…uh…interrupted you.”

“No problem—I didn’t want to burn anyway.” Her friendly smile was faintly provocative.

“No. Burning would be bad.” Speechlessness was actually preferable to his inane banter.

“Give me a minute and I’ll meet you at my gate so you can get Gigi.” The woman turned toward her house, displaying an equally impressive towel-covered backside. Some men liked skinny, stick-women. He wasn’t one of them. And she was no stick. She glanced over her shoulder “Does she bite?”

“Huh?”

“The dog. Does she bite?” Laughter flavored her southern accent.

“Only unsuspecting toes.” He recovered his wit.

Smiling, she turned and disappeared into the house.

Niall felt sure the woman would be wearing more than her towel and navel ring when she showed up at the back gate. He wasn’t so sure whether he’d be relieved or disappointed.

But he did know he liked the neighborhood already.

BUTT-ASS NAKED was a helluva way to meet the new neighbor. There were probably worse ways to meet the new folks other than in her birthday suit, although none immediately came to mind.

Given his slack-jawed response, she’d definitely made an impression. For the first time in as long as she could recall, she’d actually felt self-conscious about her nudity. Apparently he was a new species of man. The ones she knew were the ogling variety. The way he’d carefully looked her in the eye rather than ogle her had compelled her to cover herself. But a hint of her bad girl tendencies had remained because she’d found the situation stimulating.

He was fully dressed—well, as far as she could tell, with only his head and shoulders sticking up over her fence—and still she’d felt a powerful tug of attraction. As she’d told Olivia earlier, she was in a bad way.

Out of deference to her new neighbor’s sensibilities, and the wife and two kids probably lurking in the background, Tammy pulled on her jeans and shirt, which she’d draped over the kitchen chair, the fabric playing against her still stimulated parts.

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.