she was quite handy with most things domestic. And although her ex-husband had tried to make her believe otherwise, she was very easy to get along with.
At her skeptical “hmmph!” Wade raised an eyebrow. “Would you care to elaborate on that?”
“Not really.” She lifted her chin, determined to set some ground rules. “Your personal life is none of my business, and I don’t care what type of woman you prefer as long as you’re discreet about it.” She ruffled her son’s hair. “It wouldn’t do to have a certain someone asking questions about the birds and bees because of our neighbor’s activities.”
Besides, she’d already shared a roof with one skirt chaser. She had no desire to repeat the experience.
“You think you have me pegged.”
She took Jacob’s hand and started toward the house, but he intercepted her. Her gaze fell squarely on the broad wall of his chest, which blocked her view but presented her with an even better one.
“So tell me what you believe my type is,” he persisted.
Geneva crossed her arms in front of her and immediately regretted the action when it caused the shirt to rub her sore spot. “I’ve heard what people say about you, and in this case I believe they’re right.”
The left corner of his mouth lifted slightly. “You listen to rumors?”
She looked down, pausing a moment to send Jacob to ride on his tricycle. When he was engaged in his play, she admitted to Wade, “Sometimes. When it might affect my son.”
Such as when she’d heard whisperings that Les was seeing another woman during his supposed business trips. She hadn’t stuck her head in the sand then, and she wasn’t about to start with Wade Matteo.
He nodded, almost as if he approved her decision. “And rumor says…”
He was not going to let up until she told him, so she may as well deliver it with both barrels. “You have two criteria.” She held up one finger. “Female…” Then a second. “…and breathing.”
Taking her hand in his, he unfolded her third finger. “Don’t forget ‘beautiful.”’
Then, failing to release her hand, he gripped her with a gaze so intense that Geneva became lost in the forest-green depths of his eyes. Right now she felt less like Cinderella, whom he’d mentioned earlier, and more like Little Red Riding Hood. What big, dark eyes he had.
He cleared his throat and cast her a wolfish grin. “Guess that makes you my type after all.”
Geneva blinked. This was getting out of hand. Pulling away from his touch, she sought to escape into the relative safety of her new home.
“Thank you for helping me out of my predicament.” She withdrew her fingers from his grasp as casually as if they’d been shaking hands and sidestepped him to go back to the window. Flashing him a grateful smile, she added, “Next time I’ll find a stick to prop the window open while I’m climbing through.”
Wade moved toward her. His expression was no longer hungry, but filled with concern. “Next time you lock yourself out, just ask me for the spare key. There’s no need to risk getting hurt.”
“Oh, I didn’t lock myself out.” She wondered if, like her ex-husband, Wade would laugh at her sentimentality. Letting go of the window, she knew she couldn’t go through life reacting to her ex and his hang-ups. Just because Les didn’t share her love for babies didn’t mean all men were like that. And just because this particular man—crisp slacks, muscle-hugging shirt and raw masculinity—seemed less like a family man than any she’d ever met before, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t understand her softhearted reason for finding an alternate entry into the house, no matter how inconvenient it might be.
Nodding toward the decorative summer wreath on her one and only outside door, she gave him the short version. “A couple of squatters have moved in without paying rent.”
With a frown of dawning comprehension, Wade crossed to the mat in front of the door.
Standing on the ornate braided script that spelled out Welcome, he considered the irony. For him, her body language had spelled out Go Away. Not that he could blame her. Although he’d joked about her not being his type, it was clear they both saw danger signals in the other.
Lifting his gaze to the grapevine wreath she’d placed there a couple of days after signing the lease, Wade felt her presence as she came up behind him. He inhaled her scent and tried to place the wholesome aroma that tugged at his memory. As ridiculous as it seemed, he could have sworn she smelled like fresh-baked cookies. Or maybe cinnamon strudel.
Letting out a large breath, Wade reminded himself to stay focused on the matter at hand. He needed to get her inside—and quickly—so he could put a safe distance between them.
“See?” She brushed his arm as she pointed to the bottom curve of the wreath. “It’s inside that clump of brown grass.”
He had to look close to see the grass that had been added after she’d hung it. It was hidden behind an ornamental bird covered in blue-dyed feathers, and the dried strands camouflaged well within the door decoration.
Leaning in, he got a glimpse of a black-crowned head and an unblinking eye fixed on him. Their gazes held for a split second before the panicked bird darted from the creative nest, its flapping gray wings whirring so close that the breeze hit Wade’s face.
Dodging to avoid a collision, he bumped into Geneva, who had been hovering near his elbow.
“I told you,” she said as if he’d doubted her word. “Now look inside the nest.”
Wade hesitated, wondering what further surprises lurked within the otherwise ordinary-looking wreath. Curiosity soon got the best of him, and he chanced another approach to peer inside.
This time he was rewarded with a glimpse of a small speckled white egg tucked away in the down-lined nest.
Geneva leaned toward him, her head almost touching his as they examined the fragile contents. Wade inhaled again. The scent of her, a light vanilla fragrance mixed with something else, made him hungry. And not for food.
“I noticed it this morning. After last night’s rain, the door was sticking as I tried to close it. So I gave it a firm tug and a bird flew out, like it did just now.” Reaching forward, she secured a stray bit of grass behind the fake bird that served double duty as sentinel and nest anchor. “It’s a wonder the egg didn’t fall out.”
And a good thing, too, or his maudlin new tenant would have been wracked with remorse and self-blame. “A bird that looks like yours makes its nest in the eaves of the clubhouse porch every year. Our golf pro says it’s a tufted titmouse. There will be four or five eggs in there by the end of the week. You’re going to have company for another month or so until the babies fly away.”
Geneva’s reaction to that bit of news was to grab a loose tendril of hair that had escaped from the clip at the nape of her neck and twist it around her finger. No fancy manicure for her. Her fingernails had been filed to a serviceable length and covered with a clear gloss. Feminine yet unpretentious, just like Geneva.
Wade thought of the woman he’d been with last night. Her nails had been overlaid with acrylic tips of unrealistic proportions, painted a bright magenta, and each imbedded with a tiny diamond-like chip. He doubted they would survive normal day-to-day working conditions, not that they had to. The important thing was that they hadn’t hampered her ability to fulfill his need.
By now, Jacob had bored of circling his tricycle around the dogwood tree beside the deck. The little boy whose cinnamon-brown eyes and light olive skin matched his mother’s, clutched the front of his pale green shorts. Toddling to Geneva, he tugged her skirt and gave her a pleaded Mommy!”
She stooped and picked him up. “Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I forgot all about your problem.” Her eyes met Wade’s, making it clear he was the reason for her distraction. The gesture