She's Gotta Be Mine Read Online Free PDF

simply because she was only the second person to voluntarily walk into his yard in the year since he’d come home. That deserved something. “If I was inclined to bludgeon small animals, I’d start with Princess over there.”
    He tamped down the earth over the now filled hole. Maybe he should start marking the little graves so he didn’t accidentally dig one up.
    “So, you don’t actually kill them.”
    Ah, the serial-killer bit. He couldn’t resist feeding the gossip just to see her reaction. “Animals or humans?”
    Her eyes widened, their color a luscious green that complemented her hair. All his fantasy women had green eyes. He wondered if he could duplicate her exact shade on canvas.
    “Either,” she said, a hint of a quiver in her voice.
    She’d make sounds like that in bed, he was sure, moans to drive a man over the edge. He leaned on his shovel, let his gaze drift over her breasts. “What do you think? Do I look like I kill cute little animals or sweet young girls? Or both?”
    She chewed her lip. He almost offered to help her with the task. Her taste would be...spicy, like the color of her lipstick. Red-hot. Tongue sizzling.
    The crazy woman smiled then. Like she’d just won the lottery or he’d said the secret word, whatever the hell it was. “I just moved in across the street. I’m Bobbie Jones.” She thrust the foiled dish at him. “I thought it would be neighborly to bring you a lasagna.”
    When other people brought him things, it was usually roadkill he had to bury in the backyard. “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around, I bring the new neighbor the lasagna?”
    She tilted her head. “Men don’t cook.”
    “You think they live on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”
    “Something like that.” Hungry green eyes fixated on his naked chest. She licked her lips. His jeans got tighter.
    The last time a woman came bearing gifts, with that same predatory look in her eye and lies on her lips, her husband had tried to pound Nick into the dirt; he didn’t relish a repeat. He let the shovel fall to the ground beside him. “You divorced?”
    Her full red lips clamped together. This time she chewed the inside of her cheek. Finally she murmured, “Not yet.”
    “Planning on making your almost ex-husband jealous by hanging around me?”
    No response, which made the answer fairly fricking obvious. Shit. You win some, you lose some.
    Seconds passed. Princess stopped barking. Neighborhood noises faded into the background. The awkward silence stretched between them until something or someone had to give.
    She pushed the lasagna at him. “Bake it at three-fifty for thirty minutes. And you should probably let it sit for another ten to set. That’s what I always do.”
    He should have let her go then. It would have been the smarter thing to do. But he’d never been particularly smart when it came to women. “You left a mark on your sweater.”
    Her eyes followed the line of his pointing finger. “Oh.” Then she looked back up to meet his gaze. “Do you have a sponge I could wipe it off with?”
    If the mark had been on her skin, he’d have licked it off with his tongue. “Looks like something you need to take your sweater off to really do a good job.”
    She gave him a wide-eyed look as if she were a mouse in a trap. “It would be polite to introduce yourself, you know.”
    “Before or after you take off your sweater?”
    Bobbie Jones flushed like a schoolgirl and shook her head, curls bouncing softly, gleaming red and gold in the dappled sunlight. He thought again about sketching her. Naked.
    He added, “Just to clean it, of course.”
    She shoved the dish in his hands. He had to take it or drop it. Hell, it had been awhile since he’d had lasagna...or anything else she might be offering.
    “I better run back home and take care of the mess.”
    And run she did, giving him a rear view that made his hands sweat. Forget sketching her, there were better things he could think of