Page 98 of Four Dates and A Forever
That twitch was back, and this time it exposed two double-barreled dimples that sparked all kinds of tingles. Their eyes held for a long moment as if he was trying to figure out what to do with her. It was a look she was used to.
“I guess today’s my lucky day.”
“Mine is looking up,” she said. “If you hadn’t stopped, I never would have made it to the party on time.”
“You also wouldn’t show up looking like your dress fell victim to a finger painting drive-by.”
“Who doesn’t love a good finger painting?” She lifted a single, sexy brow.
“I guess it depends on who’s the canvas.”
Not sure how she felt about that or the growing tingles, she said, “I’m Piper. And I’m late.”
“I’m Josh, and I guess I’m your driver.” He reached out his hand. “You headed to the party?”
“I’m shooting it.” She lifted the camera bag, then looked at his still outstretched hand. “I would shake, but my hands are covered with—”
“Peanut butter,” he said, and something playful lit his voice. “I saw.”
Well, wasn’t that embarrassing. She wondered what else he’d seen. The way his eyes held steadfast, almost as if he was fighting the urge to veer south told her he’d most likely seen some pink and black silk.
Oh, lucky day!
“I’d offer you some but…” She pointed over her shoulder to the peanut butter-sized roadkill on the ground.
“You’re mourning the peanut butter but not the dress?”
“I have other clothes in my bag. But that was my emergency peanut butter,” she said.
“That would make me the jerk.” He rested an arm on the window and smiled. At her. As if their meeting was serendipitous. “How can I make it up to you?”
“How good are you with zippers?”
Continue Definitely (Maybe) Dating
Turn the page to check out Jillian and Clay’s story,Summer Affair, a sexy, feel-good friends to lovers romantic comedy!
CHAPTER ONE
Resolutions from Jillian’s Journal
Rename Resolutions to Recommendations
so that one could, at any time,
ignore them without a trace of guilt.
Jillian Conner was naked.
Not entirely naked, but her teeny-weeny teal bikini didn’t leave much to the imagination. With a few scraps of material held together by a series of tug-and-they’re-gone straps, she was living on the edge, about to do something thrilling—and so out of character—even if it could constitute a public indecency charge.
She tightened the silky belt of her robe and looked out the kitchen window to the pool. A giddy excitement rushed through her. The last time she was this naked outside of her bedroom or en suite was when her son was in diapers. It was only a matter of time before the homeowners’ association added a new regulation prohibiting skinny-dipping in one’s own yard. She could practically hear the wildfire of gossip from the local mill and see the write-up in the Forest Park Newsletter:Local Cake Goddess Turned Moon Goddess in Nude Pagan Ritual.
While her backyard was open on all three sides and butted up to twenty acres of state-protected forest land, her side yard had no gates, no fence, and no privacy, leaving her exposed to any passersby. But those concerns were for another time because tonight Jillian was about to embark on something so rare and extraordinary she could scarcely believe her luck.
Me time.
An uninterrupted, unsupervised, unadulterated kid-free night. She’d heard of this white magic whispered around playgrounds and in local mommy-and-me circles. Tales of sleep-through-the-night, wake-after-noon, no sugar-induced tantrums kind of affairs. Once upon a time, she’d been one of those carefree non-moms who frequented happy hour, spent weekends with the girls, and enjoyed a good romp with a handsome man.
