The 90 Day Rule Read Online Free PDF Page B

imprint through the thin nylon fabric, letting his left hand brush down the length of my denim-clad hip as he pulled the safety belt and leaned across my lap to settle the snap into its slot.
    Inhaling deeply, I nearly swooned. The man smelled so … good. Natural. Warm. Like after a spring rain. Clean.
    He looked at me curiously.
    “Um, it smells really good.” He moved the cross belt to a comfortable position across my … oh my dear sweet lord. “The p-p-pizza.”
    “We’ll have to warm it up.”
    “Warm it up?”
    “Yeah, I live about eight miles away.”
    Oh.
    He drove at a sedate pace along back roads, heading east into the country. I’d never had much chance to explore the surrounding area, school and practice and travel keeping me tethered to campus and the squad. Jack explained the history of the area and the Amish traditions. I was surprised at how much he knew about Happy Valley and its environs.
    “How long have you lived in this area, Jack?”
    “Coming maybe … twelve, thirteen years. Did my time in the navy, then at VATech for a coupla years. Got the invite and a chance at a Big Ten post. Not something a young man from the back of beyond turns down.”
    I did the numbers game, tallying up years here and there, added twelve and came out with maybe forty or forty-five tops. He looked younger than that, his hair still sandy brown with no hint of grey.
    We pulled into a narrow driveway that ran back through a section of woods to a single story frame house. It was small but tidy, the yard free of debris but there was no landscaping to speak of. Jack parked the truck under an overhang and jumped out to help me down. Reversing the procedure he again grasped me by the waist and eased me onto the ground with exaggerated care, the distance between us so miniscule that I felt the heat pouring off his chest and him branding me with those clever thumbs.
    The thin fabric of my blouse seemed a huge barrier to what I wanted, what I needed. To feel those rough hands on skin, my skin. A chill wash of longing sped up and down my spine, the shiver involuntary.
    He had to know. He had to.
    “I’ll, uh, get the, uh…”
    Whispering, “Pizza,” I moved away so he could open the small door to access the back seat. With two hands engaged he flipped his head toward the front door. “It’s open, go on in.”
    “Open? You don’t lock it?”
    “Darlin’, I’m from the country. I ain’t got nothin’ worth stealing here, ’cept the cats and ya gotta catch ’em first.”
    Holding the door so he could get through with the oversized box allowed me another vicarious brush with his chest. Our arrival was greeted with feline complaints from three of the biggest cats I’d ever seen.
    “Let me crank the A/C up. Got a little hotter today than they called for. I don’t like to leave my boys here without the comforts of home.”
    Jack set the box on the kitchen counter and disappeared down a hall to the left, I assumed it led back to the bedrooms. That gave me a few moments to be a voyeur. The space was surprisingly tidy, almost as if it wasn’t lived in. Of course, with his schedule—practices, games, travel—he might not be around much to make the mess you’d expect a single guy…
    Oh crap. He was married. Or he had a live-in.
    So much for those sexy, hard, smoky blue eyes. And those amazing thumbs. And the way he leaned in, close … interested.
    Deflated, I flopped onto the sofa and waited. It didn’t take long. The grey long-haired presented himself first, then the tuxedo and finely a brownish striped short-hair. Wriggling my fingers elicited mild interest and no small measure of disdain.
    I loved cats but Robert was allergic so we never had animals. I always thought it made a house less a home without them.
    “That’s Reggie, the one kneading your, um, thigh.” I scooted back against the cushions, giving Reggie more real estate. “Max is the black and white, Ozzie’s the tiger-stripe.”
    Apparently neither