Home-Grown Husband

Thankfully, he hadn’t been useless up to this point. No one could deny he’d done a thorough job of hauling the trampled mess out of Tess Cameron’s flower bed and dumping it in the trash while she retrieved a fresh batch of plants. That part had been easy. Even easier was reimbursing her—and noting the absence of any rings, wedding or otherwise, as she took his money with one hand and offered a receipt with the other.

Now came the hard part. Jordan frowned down at the hole he’d created, wondering if he should stop or keep on digging. Who knew?

“That needs to be a little larger,” his companion pointed out, glancing over at his effort.

“Right.” He dug a bit deeper and wider, then aimed for a casual tone. “That should do it, wouldn’t you say?”

“Looks good. I think some snapdragons would go well there.”

She returned to her own digging then, clearly expecting him to get on with it. Great. Jordan turned his head and studied the bunched flowers in a variety of shapes and colors lined up behind him. What the hell did a snapdragon look like? He recognized the roses. Everything else was a mystery.

“I like lots of yellow,” she added. “It makes things bright and cheerful.”

Yellow. That might be a clue. There were two varieties of mostly yellow flowers—tall, thin ones, and shorter, rounder ones. Figuring he had a fifty-fifty chance, he went with the shorter version.

“No, not the marigolds,” she told him when he set his choice in front of him. “Snapdragons.”

“Right.”

He replaced his gamble with the taller yellow version and decided luck was with him this time when she offered no objection. While she reached behind her for another plant, he carefully removed his from its plastic container and placed it in the hole. He held it with one hand and cautiously spread dirt over the roots.

Then he let it go and watched it fall over, toppling like a felled tree in the forest.

Swallowing a curse, he slid a look at his companion out of the corner of his eye and saw a thoughtful frown form as he straightened the plant.

“You haven’t done much gardening, have you?”

“No.” Which was, he told himself, the complete truth.

Her frown deepened. “How much have you done?”

He resisted the urge to sigh. The jig was up, he knew, because he wouldn’t outright lie to her. “None—until now,” he admitted, turning to look straight at her.

The frown remained. “And you offered to help me anyway. Why?”

“My dog did the damage, so it’s only fair that I help.” Again it was the truth. Maybe not the whole truth, but his conscience wouldn’t bother him about it.

Gradually her frown faded as her lips curved, slowly and wryly. “Then I guess it’s time for a lesson…Jordan,” she said, using his name for the first time.

He released a quiet breath and offered silent thanks that she was taking it well. He’d seen her fuming, and was in no hurry to repeat the experience. The curve of his mouth matched hers. “I’d say you’re right…Tess.”

“Okay.” She set aside the container of tiny blue flowers she held and bent over the plant he still supported. “The trick is to pack the dirt gently but firmly around the roots.” She demonstrated with gloved hands, close enough now to allow him a long whiff of a crisp, fresh fragrance he was sure came from her and not the flowers. Done with her project seconds later, and too soon, as far as everything male inside him was concerned, she leaned away again and sat back on her haunches.

“You can let it go now.”

He did, and the plant stood straight and tall.

“It’s not difficult once you get the hang of it,” she said. “My eight-year-old daughter is already a pro.”

That news brought him up short. “Your daughter? I haven’t seen a child around.” Then again, he hadn’t seen this woman either, until he’d stormed over the fence.

“Ali’s spending the summer with my parents. They live in San Diego.”

And where’s Ali’s father? He didn’t voice the question, yet something in his expression must have made it plain. At least he figured that was the case when she said, “My husband died a few years ago.” Her own expression sobered with the words.

“I’m sorry.” The reply came automatically, but he meant it, nonetheless.

“Roger was killed in a car crash.” She hesitated, as if she could have gone on to say more, then silently picked up the spray of flowers she’d put aside and began to plant them. By the time she finished, her smile, or a ghost of one, was back. “We went through some tough times, Ali and I, but we’re doing fine now. We have a good life, and I have a job I love.”

“What kind of job?”

Her smile widened as she started to dig another hole. “This kind, actually. I work for Zieglers Landscaping Service. If things go as planned, I’ll own the business before the year is out. Hank and Violet Ziegler, the current owners, are getting ready to retire and take things easier, and they’ve offered to sell it to me. The day it becomes Cameron Landscaping, I’ll be celebrating—big time.” She reached around and retrieved the plant he’d put back earlier.

Marigolds. Jordan remembered the name even as he considered what Tess Cameron had just told him. Although she’d lost her husband, this woman was clearly looking forward to the future. She couldn’t be more than thirty—probably less—yet she had her life mapped out, at least career-wise. She knew exactly where she wanted to go and fully expected to find satisfaction in the path she’d chosen.

He couldn’t help but envy her.

“I take it you know all about growing things,” he said in a bid to keep the conversation going.

She shook her head. “Not everything, not nearly, but I’ve learned my share during the years I’ve spent working on lawns all over the city.”

Leaning forward, he ignored a lone bee that buzzed by and scooped out another trowel’s worth of dirt. “So why don’t you tell me more?”

She did, and he in turn did his best to keep up with the flow of information. Flowers not only came in all shapes, colors and sizes, there were apparently different types, as well. Annuals. Perennials. Biennials.

And he’d be willing to bet none of them smelled as good as the woman beside him, he thought at one point. Still, he found himself interested, even though he knew that just yesterday, if anyone had told him he’d not only be listening to a lecture on gardening, but on his knees planting roses at the same time, he’d have called them flat-out crazy.

Time passed swiftly, and before it seemed possible they were finished. Jordan was bending over to retrieve a shovel they’d used when his instructor said, “I’ve been talking about my livelihood long enough. What do you do for a living?”

Not anything he wanted to discuss. Although he realized he should have expected it, the question had him stilling completely for an instant as he debated how to answer.

Standing beside him, Tess’s gaze sharpened as she caught that sudden total lack of movement before Jordan slowly straightened. Her question had been natural enough, she told herself, but it seemed to have made an impact, however well concealed. Another second passed before she got a reply.

“I don’t do much of anything these days,” he told her in the same casual tone he’d used for much of the afternoon. “Exploring my options, I guess you could say.”

And what did you do up till now? She couldn’t help wondering, thinking that whatever it was, it had surely not been a run-of-the-mill job. Sharing several companionable hours doing something as simply satisfying as flower tending hadn’t changed her mind about Jordan Trask. No one would ever judge him to be ordinary…including her.

She waited a moment for him to say more. He said nothing, so she turned and started for the garage with an armload of small garden tools. He followed, carrying a shovel in one hand and a fat sack of mulch with the other. Once inside, he glanced around him. “Where do you want the sack?”

“Against the wall, on the other side of the truck.” She watched as he walked in near silence around her white pickup, asking herself if anyone could move that quietly on solid concrete unless they’d been trained in the art. For a moment, her attention was so fixed on him that she didn’t even notice the short metal rake slipping from the pile she held, not until it hit the hard floor with a clatter.

In a flash, the man she viewed dropped the sack and whipped around to face her, hazel eyes narrowed and broad shoulders braced for what might come next. He looked, she thought, like a shot had just been fired, rather than a tool clattering.

Like a shot. All at once Tess got a good inkling of what Jordan Trask had done in the past. Her gaze locked with his. “Are you ex-military, or ex-police?”

As he released a lengthy breath, she could all but see him forcing himself to relax. And then he spoke so softly that the words barely reached her.

“Neither. I’m ex Border Patrol.”

Chapter Two

Border Patrol. The words repeated in Tess’s mind. It was a long way from ordinary, even quite possibly dangerous work. She didn’t know any more than the average person, she supposed, about what was actually involved. But she knew that much.

No wonder, she told herself. No wonder he seemed a bit larger than life, as though he’d just stepped from the pages of an action novel. He’d probably seen plenty of action.

And now he had apparently chosen to give it up, let it all go, for reasons she certainly had no business asking him about. Still she couldn’t hold back one question. “How did you wind up in Harmony?”

He bent to lift the sack, then met her eyes again. “I saw an article in a travel magazine at a dentist’s office a while back. It was on bed-and-breakfasts in this area, and one of the pictures was an aerial photo of this place, with the sun shining down on it.” He paused for a beat. “I’ve got to admit it seemed a little like heaven to me.”

It must have, after the sights he’d no doubt seen hundreds of miles to the south. She could understand that, even though Tess knew the city she’d lived in for most of her life wasn’t heaven. She’d learned that the hard way when—

“So I figured I’d come and check it out,” Jordan added, breaking into memories she was far from reluctant to let go. “It didn’t take me long to decide I wanted to spend some time here.” With that, he turned away and placed the sack where she’d indicated. “What about the shovel?”

She reached down and retrieved the rake from the floor. “It goes in the storage box at the back.”

The tools were scarcely put away when thunder rumbled in the distance. “Guess I won’t have to water the new plants,” Tess said as they left the garage. The coming rain was hardly a surprise. Late-day, wind-whipped storms rolled in regularly during the summer months in Harmony, sometimes disappearing almost as quickly as they blew in.

The thick dark hair at the nape of his neck barely brushed his shirt collar as Jordan gazed up at a sky that was quickly turning murky. “I’d better be going. I should probably let the dog out to do his duty before it starts coming down. I’ll keep him on a leash until I make sure he can’t get through the fence again and create another crisis.”

Tess’s lips quirked in a small smile. “I doubt he’ll be giving Roxy any more trouble.”

“If he’s smart, he won’t.”

“Is he smart?”

“I don’t know, but I expect I’ll find out.” Jordan brushed his palms on his Levi’s. “We just met today. I adopted him at the pound this morning.”

And he didn’t look all that certain he’d done the wise thing, she had no trouble noting. It only made her smile widen. “What’s his name?”

With a slight shake of his head, Jordan said, “Beats me. The people at the pound thought he was abandoned because someone couldn’t, or didn’t want to, take care of him anymore.”

“Then you’ll have to rename him.”

He frowned, aiming a thoughtful glance at the house he’d rented, where his new pet awaited his return. “I’ve never named a dog before. What, ah, do you think I should call him?”

It was her turn to slowly shake her head. “It doesn’t matter what I think, not really. He’s yours now, Jordan. You should name him.”

Once again, his gaze met hers. “Do you suppose he could come over and visit sometime—if he behaves himself?”

Her heart picked up a heavy beat, right along with her pulse, because she knew by the abruptly probing glint in his eye what he was really asking. She didn’t even consider saying no. “You can both come over,” she said, and managed to keep her tone light.

He grinned then—an all-out grin, not just a smile—and she couldn’t stop her breath from catching at the sight, couldn’t help but wonder if he had any idea how knockout sexy it was. “We just might take you up on that invitation,” he told her, his gaze still steady on hers.

She barely held on to her composure until he looked away and started toward the fence separating their yards. “You can go around the front, you know,” she called after him.

“This is just as easy,” he threw back over his shoulder. And it was, for him. Within seconds, he effortlessly landed on the other side and turned to wave goodbye. The grin—that devilishly sexy grin—was still in place.

TESS WATCHED through a side window of her kitchen as man and dog made their way around the yard, one holding a long black leash, the other sniffing a path over bright green grass. Without a doubt, the dog needed his owner, she thought, needed to be cared for as any pet would. For some reason, though, she was beginning to believe that this particular owner just might need what the dog could provide every bit as much. It should have seemed a little ridiculous that someone who appeared so confidently self-sufficient could genuinely benefit from some unconditional canine devotion.

But it didn’t seem at all ridiculous. Not to her. Not after the time spent with her new neighbor.

Jordan Trask had come to Harmony seeking something. Of that, she was sure. Less clear, was exactly what he sought. Sheer peace, maybe. Some quiet time to decide what he’d do next after leaving a job that would have been anything but peaceful.

It might well be the case, she reflected, recalling their conversation. He’d seen a postcard-perfect photo in a magazine, and the image had come to mind at a time when he’d needed to get away. Yes, that could very well be it.

Not that it was any of her business, Tess reminded herself as the phone on a nearby wall jangled. She stepped back from the window and picked up the cream-toned receiver on the second ring. Her daughter’s voice greeted her.

“How’s it going, Mom?”

Breaking into a smile, Tess leaned against the kitchen counter. “Just fine, pumpkin. What have you been up to?”

“Lots. Grandma took me to the beach today. We had a good time, even though Grandpa didn’t go. He wanted to stay home and watch a baseball game instead. Tomorrow Gram and I are going to the zoo. She asked Grandpa to go, too, but he says there’s another game on TV.” Ali issued a dramatic sigh. “I think Grandpa’s turning into a couch potato.”

“Sounds like it,” Tess agreed, remembering a time when her father had loved being outdoors as much as she did now.

“Just between us—” Ali’s voice dropped to a confidential pitch “—Grandma told him when she probably thought I wasn’t listening that if he keeps on acting like his butt is glued to the recliner, she’s gonna get fed up one of these days and do something drastic.”

Tess’s smile grew, because she had no trouble imagining her mother delivering those words in a familiar no-nonsense tone. Glenda Fitzgerald was a woman who could tell it like it was, and didn’t hesitate to do so if she felt the occasion demanded it.

“What do you suppose Gram meant by something drastic, Mom?”

“Who knows?” Tess pursed her lips. “Maybe cutting the cord on the TV. Or fixing fish for dinner every night.”

“Aha,” Ali said wisely. “Gram and I like fish, but Grandpa doesn’t.”

Chuckling, Tess replied, “Exactly, pumpkin. Your grandfather would be making his own dinner, which probably falls in the drastic category, at least as far as he’s concerned. He’d be mumbling and grumbling all over the place.”

Ali giggled. The sound was music to Tess’s ears. Her daughter had gone through some dark days after Roger died, but the shadows had long since faded, thank heavens. “Tell me what else you’ve been up to,” she urged, and, as expected, Ali launched into an eager explanation.

With a promise to call during the week, Tess hung up the phone minutes later and returned to the window. The first big drops of warm rain hit with soft pings and slid their way down the glass as she looked out at the now empty yard next door.

He was gone. But not forgotten. Even a lively conversation with her much-loved child hadn’t pushed her neighbor completely from her mind. No, he was still there. Those dark-lashed eyes, that chiseled mouth, the knockout grin.

And the powerful body. She couldn’t deny that she remembered every impressive inch of it, and she couldn’t say that she’d object to seeing more. Because she wouldn’t.

As a lover, Jordan Trask would be ideal.

Even as that thought bloomed, she was struck by exactly how right it seemed. Not for just any woman, but for her. In every way she could imagine, this man fit the part to a tee.

Physically, she was attracted to him. Just kneeling beside him in a flower bed was the most exciting thing she’d done in years, at least as far as everything female inside her was concerned. Her pulse still hadn’t returned to normal. Not quite. Not yet. She wondered how long it would take.

Emotionally, he attracted her, as well. Watching him warily bond with his new pet had tugged at her heartstrings, she couldn’t deny. And the fact that the dog clearly wasn’t wary spoke volumes. Deep down, he was a good man—one she could come to respect, given the chance. Every instinct she had said so.

And, added to all of the above, one more thing about him held great appeal. Right now, at this point in her life and circumstances being what they were, it was the icing on the cake.

Jordan Trask would be a temporary lover.

Temporary, because she didn’t for one minute believe that he would settle down in Harmony. He’d come here to find something, probably a solid strategy for what to do next, and having found it, he would move on. Men well acquainted with the thrill of danger didn’t prop their boots up on a porch railing in peaceful surroundings and contentedly watch the world go by. Not for any real length of time.

So he would go. And if they did become lovers, when it was over there would be no uncomfortable aftermath. That was one of the difficulties of living in a smaller city, Tess knew. If she set her sights on someone local, they’d be running into each other long after the affair had run its course—whether they wanted to or not.

Far better, she believed, to choose someone who was exciting on one level, admirable on another, and…temporary.

Oh, yes. It would be ideal.

He was here for the summer. Her daughter was happily occupied elsewhere. Perfect.

And what made her think he would even consider it?

Tess shook her head as that thought hit home, and soon chided herself for pure foolishness. Here she was, she reflected with a rueful twist of her lips, flirting with the idea of an intimate relationship with her new neighbor, when he hadn’t so much as flirted with her, not really. Time for a reality check, she concluded, turning away from the window.

The man in question had done nothing to launch her mind down the particular path it had taken. Nothing but grin at her and waggle an invitation to possibly come over again—which was hardly enough to mean anything. After all, Tess told herself as she started for the laundry room, larger-than-life men hardly made a habit of getting involved with down-to-earth women.

Did they?

THE FLOWERS INVADED Jordan’s dreams that night. Rainbow-colored and brightly scented, they marched straight into his imagination, a brilliant parade of blooms in endless shapes and sizes. Roses. Snapdragons. Marigolds. And a legion more he still couldn’t put a name to.

In his mind, he walked in a huge garden at the height of a sultry summer day, gazing around him as he made his way down a narrow cobblestone path carved into a sea of lush green grass. The goal foremost in his thoughts was to reach a certain place, to find a certain…something. The knowledge of exactly what, eluded him keeping a quick, enticing step ahead to remain just beyond his grasp.

But he was dead sure he had to find it.

So he kept on going, while birds chirped softly in the background and warm wind rustled a thousand leaves.

And then he came to a sharp twist in the winding path and saw a woman seated on a plain wooden bench in a small clearing. Everything inside him clenched at the sight, because she wore nothing but a yellow rosebud tucked behind one ear. He knew that for a certainty, despite the fact that only her face was completely clear to him, as if a filmy veil cloaked the rest of her body from his gaze.

She made no attempt to cover herself, showed no surprise at his appearance. Rather, her eyes welcomed him, blue as the sunlit sky above, as he approached. And all at once he realized he’d found what he’d been looking for.

Swiftly on the heels of that knowledge came a surge of want. He wanted many things, wanted them badly and wanted them soon. But most of all at that moment, he wanted to kiss the woman who awaited him.

As if well aware of his thoughts, she rose in one smooth motion, spread her arms and slid them around his neck without hesitation when he finally stood beside her. Then she pressed her lips to one side of his jaw and feathered her tongue over his cheek. He longed for her mouth under his, craved a deep, hard taste. Yet he found himself willing to wait, because what she was doing felt so good. So warm. So…moist.

So arousing.

Or it would have been, if something hadn’t prompted him to slit an eye open. He quickly discovered that Tess Cameron was nowhere in sight. But he was indeed being licked.

By a dog.

“What the hell!” Jordan shot straight up in the brass double bed, sending the white sheet tumbling to his waist. He wore nothing beneath it, preferring bare skin to bunched pajamas when it came to nightwear. And as far as morning wake-up kisses were concerned, he’d take sweet, human female over damp canine any day.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he grumbled, frowning down at his new pet. A pet still lacking a name, he reminded himself. Not that he hadn’t given it his best shot. He had. But nothing seemed to fit.

The dog, looking totally unrepentant, calmly returned his master’s gaze, wet tongue lolling to one side and black eyes gleaming in the dim early sunlight slanting through the sheer blue bedroom curtains.

“It might be easier to get my point across if I had a clue what to call you.” Jordan punched up a pillow and leaned back against it. “Maybe I should leave the whole thing up to you.”

A soft pant began at that statement, appearing to agree.

He shrugged. “Okay, let’s give it a try. How does Spot strike you?”

No reaction at all, not this time.

“No dice, huh? How about Rover? Lad? Sparky?”

Nothing.

“Buster? Rex? Fang?”

Zip.

He lifted a hand and ran it through his sleep-mussed hair. “You’d better not be too picky, pal. I may reach the end of my rope, and you’ll wind up with a name as plain as Smith or Jones.”

A sudden lively bark split the early-morning quiet and sent Jordan’s brows climbing. “Are you telling me you want to be called something like Jones?”

A second bark and some fast tail wagging gave him his answer. “All right, who am I to argue the point? If Jones works for you—it’s Jones.” Jordan flicked the sheet aside, rose and headed for the bathroom off the upstairs hallway.

At the sound of yet another eager bark, he tossed a glance over his shoulder and found the dog now eyeing the warm spot on the bed he’d just left. “Don’t even think about it, Jones.”