Hmm…maybe she could bring the Suit home. With her dad, any tiny advantage would help, and her mom simply loved beautiful art.
Tara fanned herself as she grinned, took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Sexy turned, and their eyes met. Heat climbed her neck as he rose to his feet, and she mentally instructed her gaze to stay above his chin and not stray to his tattoo, or that nicely defined chest, or his killer abs—crap.
She jerked her gaze up and heat blazed in her cheeks. “Um…”
“I couldn’t stand my shirt sticking to my back any longer.”
Had she complained? Tara shrugged her shoulders, then remembered they had a block to walk to her house. And if his back was sticky from Sugar’s—eww, poor guy. Which reminded her, she wanted to change. She held up the clothes and a pair of her dad’s size eleven tennis shoes.
“Do you want to take a shower first? My house is right down the block—”
He looked beyond her shoulder at the two-story structure behind her. “I thought this was your house.”
“It’s my parents’ house.” She tilted her head. “What, did you think I was going to have you hose off out here?”
He smiled, kicking her pulse into high gear. “I wasn’t sure.”
She rolled her eyes and extended Charlie’s jeans and black tee shirt toward him, somewhat disappointed those muscles and the beautiful tattoo would be covered up. Mostly the muscles, though. She directed her gaze back to his.
“So…shower?”
“That sounds great.” He took the clothes with one hand and extended his other. “Wes Carter, by the way.”
She laughed, reaching to accept his hand. “Tara Russell, and I was just—” Their palms connected and Tara lost her train of thought at the same moment her mouth went dry. “Um…”
“Tara,” he said as if testing her name. “Nice to meet you.” Then he chuckled and glanced over his shoulder. “Sugar…not so nice, but you’re okay.”
“Gee, thanks.” She didn’t want to let go of his warm hand, but pulled back just the same and jerked her head to the right. “My place is this way.”
He looked down at his boxers and bare feet with a grimace. “How far is it?”
“A block.” He looked indecisive, so Tara put her hands on her hips and scolded, “You know, I told you I’d be right back, no one asked you to strip.” Oh, but she was glad he had.
His gaze snapped up as his ears turned red. “Listen—that stuff was starting to get really ripe—”
“Easy, there, I’m only teasing. I completely understand.” Tara grinned and pointed to her own stained top. “Now, you coming or what? Everyone’s at the fair, anyway.”
“Yeah, sure.” He leaned down for his clothes, giving her a nice view of—Tara hurriedly looked for Sugar so Wes wouldn’t see where her gaze had focused.
“Any chance I can get a bag for these?” he asked.
“Of course.” Tara got the bag, then called for Sugar as he stuffed his clothes inside. The dog bounded up, prancing with endless energy as she licked Tara’s leg, then turned to swipe her tongue across Wes’s foot.
“All right, dog, enough with the tongue.”
Tara caught her collar and clipped the leash on. “Sorry. I’d leave her here, she’s Charlie’s dog, but she’s a bit destructive if she’s left alone. Separation anxiety.”
He stared at her like she was nuts. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish I were,” she answered and led the way toward her house. “She’s a little…” she paused and leaned closer to whisper, “…psychotic.”
“No, really?” His brows rose and though he kept a straight face, there was a smile in his voice. “Never woulda guessed.”
The toe of her sandal caught on an uneven sidewalk crack, and Tara stumbled against him. Her breast brushed his arm before he grasped her elbow to steady her. “Whoa, you okay?”
“Yeah, thanks.” She fought a strong urge to lean into him.
The approaching rumble of a Harley brought her back to reality as they walked up to her front porch. The bike turned into her driveway and Tara unhooked Sugar, who raced to the motorcycle. Tara smiled not only at the dog’s antics, but because now that Charlie was here, she wouldn’t have to worry about Sugar slobbering on Wes anymore. The guy had obviously had enough.