Page 173 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

“City airport,” Dante interrupted my ramblings. “We should get in around 4-ish. What are you getting up to this weekend? And don’t forget to get a quote for the roofing, we should have got it done earlier. It’s mid-September, sweet cheeks, you know what the weather is like over here.”

My doorbell went as I replied. “It’s on my to-do list, D. Someone’s at the door,”

“At this time? It’s those bible thumpers,” he warned. “The ones who came round on Tuesday. You did tell them to come back,”

“That’s what you’re supposed to say,” I hissed as I walked out the kitchen. “No one really expects them to come back, they should know that.”

The doorbell went again. I had told those evangelists to come back. A scary thought filtered through my mind. Was this a direct sign from God? A sign to discourage me from tonight’s operation ‘on the pull’?

Dante laughed. “Tell them you’ve already got Jesus.”

“Funny,” I groused back, ambling down the hallway to stop just shy of entering my living room. My voice became hushed as I continued. “I’ll wait them out.”

Again my best friend laughed down the line. “Chicken shit. Are the lights on?”

“Yes,” I whispered, bad-tempered.

“Your car’s parked out front?” he needled.

“Shut up,” I minced into the living room, keeping low in case anyone was peeping through the front bay windows. “They don’t know if it’s my car. How long will they wait? Five minutes?”

“Don’t ask me,” Dante replied dryly then came, “You know over here they don’t usually knock on doors like they do back home. This group must be persistent.”

“Sack it, I’m going to deal with this,” I said.

“Sack it?” Dante grunted out. “Geez, Madi, I’m going to ban Liam from teaching you-” He broke off for a few seconds to yell at Liam for filling my speech up with British vernacular. “Tell them you’re busy.”

“I’ll keep you on the phone and act like it’s an important call,” I decided with a burst of ingenuity as I straightened up from my crouched position and headed for the front door. My hand landed on the doorknob the moment I heard something sliding through the keyhole.What the hell?The adrenaline pumped through my body as I twisted the handle and yanked the door open with wide eyes, ready to scream blue murder at whoever was trying to break into my house.

“Gotta go, Dante,” I murmured, shocked beyond belief.

“I thought you were-” he managed to get out before I ended the call.

Itwasa warning from God. What other explanation could there be? Matt was standing on my doorstep. God had taken the time out to remind me, by my husband’s unexpected presence, that adultery was a sin. Or maybe it was karma messing with me again, she loved doing that.

“You still have keys,” I bumbled out, trying my best not to stare at him as you would a piece of meat. Matt had stubble, and it was a look he wore well. With a stupid nervous stutter, I continued, “I-I’ll need those back.”

“Of course,” he murmured while slipping the bunch of keys into the back pocket of his jeans.

Suffering from the effects of his sexy stubble spell, I tried to think of something to say, anything really, as long as it broke me out of my embarrassing eye-humping behaviour. All I came up with was a lame, “Hi,”

“Some mail came by the house for you.” he advised, holding up a small stack of letters for my perusal.

My gaze still lingered on the lower half of his face. What was it with the darned stubble and me? Moistening my suddenly dry lips with the tip of my tongue, I raised my hand to take the letters, realized I had my cell in that hand so raised the other one. I looked like an idiot and that confirmed it was karma doing the usual and messing with me for her own enjoyment.

Matt took a step forward and I instinctively stepped back. His movement allowed me a chance to sneak a guilty scan of his tall frame. Damn. Why did he have to wear that form-fitting t-shirt which showed off the broad lines of his chest? And it was the exact shade of blue I enjoyed seeing on him and those jeans, mmm.

But my eyes were drawn back to his face. The stubble on his face was worthy of adulation.

He took a couple more steps, breaching the sanctity of my property and in the form of an awkward sort of dance, I retreated further into my home while ensuring there was sufficient distance between us. The last pile of my mail delivered to Kensington had been forwarded on to me. Matt showing up on my doorstep to personally deliver this batch could only spell trouble. What if he had nefarious plans on his mind? Was he going to shout at me?

“Haven’t you set up your mail on a redirect, Madison?” he asked with his usual sternness as he closed my front door behind him.

Blinking fast, I nodded. “Yes, I have. I must have missed a few companies.” I ran a hand over my curls. “It won’t happen again. Sorry about that.”

Perhaps also wanting to maintain some form of cautionary distance between us, Matt ambled past the couch and placed the mail atop the coffee table instead of just handing it over. My eyes violated every inch of him, twice, before zoning in on that bloody stubble decorating his face. The sexy stubble spell, I would be shortening it to SSS for future wet dream reference, had me in its grips once more. So potent was the power of Matt’s facial hair that even though his lips moved as he spoke, for the life of me all I could hear was a bow-chicka-wow-wow theme song in my head. The sort of tune you only hear in bad pornos.Notthat I was an expert on the soundtrack of these movies. Damn it. What was wrong with me?

“I’m sorry, what?” Finally, I wrested myself from under the SSSand tried to appear normal. Matt’s mouth tightened at the corners. I could have sworn he was fighting a smile.

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