His Southern Sweetheart

“So there are no cameras on this property?”

“What?”

Nate stepped back and half sneered, half laughed. “Come on, Amelia. You make a living out of filming other people. Maybe you’re tired of them being the star.”

“And I suppose I am making you my costar?”

The lopsided grin he gave her sent a shiver along her arms. “You can’t deny we’d make a fabulous flick. Want to try?”

“Go find Brittany Foley for your freaky stuff.” Amelia frowned. The words irritated her. She and Brittany had never seen eye to eye even before Amelia’s article. Amelia did not buy the goody-two-shoes act from the pastor’s granddaughter. In high school, Brittany made no secret of the fact that she had been not just more active but more advanced in the bedroom than the rest of the girls.

“Cute.” Nate stepped back. A dribble of sweat rolled down the center of his bare chest, over the ridges of his perfect abs and disappeared into the waistband of his black boxer briefs. His hung just slightly low, allowing for the vision of his V-shaped muscles. A spasm shot to every pressure point of her body. A low seductive laugh broke her out of her daze. When she glanced up, Nate’s eyes followed hers. “Well,” he began, breaking through the crackling tension between them, “let me get back to the work at hand.” He stepped toward the stairs and paused by her shoulder. “That is what you brought me here for, right?”

“Of course.” Amelia jumped away from his body. “What else?”

Nate nodded his head. “Just asking.”

Amelia waited until she heard the shovel going back to work against the Earth’s dirt before she went back inside. The minute she entered the doorway, she went straight to the pitcher of iced tea and poured the beverage down her shirt.

Chapter 5

“You changed.”

Nate’s baritone voice startled Amelia as she daydreamed at the kitchen sink. For a while she’d found herself kneeling against the armrest of the flowered couch in Grandmamma’s sitting room and staring out the window, crudely watching Nate’s body in motion. Bulging biceps flexed when he shoved the shovel into the ground. His back muscles rippled as he turned to throw the dirt off to the side of the trench he built. When a tad bit of drool actually touched her bottom lip, she had decided to stop torturing herself by ogling his body.

“I got a little wet,” Amelia explained, and when he raised a quizzical dark brow she shook her head to shake off the embarrassing heat creeping up from her neck. “You’re a pervert.”

Funny, she’d called him one when she was two seconds away from grabbing her battery-operated friend while she watched him work outside. Nate leaned against the wall of the entrance to the kitchen. He must have found his way through the breezeway. Disappointedly he’d covered up with his T-shirt back on.

“I came in here to see if you had any more tea.”

Embarrassed by her wantonness, Amelia cut her eyes toward the pitcher brewing on the ledge on the windowsill in the late-afternoon sun. The darkness of the amber liquid indicated it was done. She reached for its red handle. “Sure.”

Nate pulled out the chair closest to her and turned it around, straddling it as she pressed one of the glasses she’d washed against the ice-dispensing compartment of the refrigerator. Even with her back to him, she knew his eyes were all over her body. Why had she chosen the short denims? Did it really have anything to do with the ninety-nine-degree weather outside? Or did she subtly want to seduce him as he worked?

“When does your grandmother get out of the hospital?” he asked.

Amelia pressed the glass against his hand and let go quickly so their fingers didn’t touch. Good thing his fingers were so large they brushed against hers. “In a few days. But if she keeps getting on the doctors’ nerves, sooner.”

One of the nurses had left a text message for Amelia, informing her they were considering allowing Grandmamma to finish her rehabilitation at the house. She’d wanted to know if Amelia had the house ready yet. Technically everything upstairs was now set up downstairs, as far as clothes went. Amelia needed to take out the couch and bring in a new bed. After Amelia left, Cay would be able to take care of the daily errands for their grandmother.

A dimple appeared in his right cheek when he grinned. “I think I have an idea. I have a grandmother who is pretty spunky myself.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, Abuela Caridad.” Nate’s smile went from seductive to boyish at the thought of his family. “She would kill me if I moved things around in her house.”

Barefoot, Amelia stepped backward to lean against the sink. “Does your abuela live by herself twenty miles away from civilization—” Amelia snorted “—if you call Southwood civilization?”

“Hey—” Nate feigned a frown “—don’t knock my town.”

“Your town?”

“Yeah.” He leaned forward on the two back legs of the chair. “This place is great.” His left brow rose. “And there’s more than one streetlight.”

“Barely,” Amelia mumbled, remembering when she gave him the description. A jolt of excitement shocked her system. “I guess Brittany has made Southern living pretty comfy for you.” If ever she could eat her own words.

“Brittany has been very accommodating,” said Nate. A sudden desire to wipe the smirk off his face washed over her. The tingling sensation in her fingers overwhelmed her, so she folded her arms beneath her breast.