Feeding the Fire (Rosewood 2)

“We’ve still got work to do,” Grant said. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Pepper was startled at first by the intimate gesture, but found all too quickly that she liked it. Even though she knew she should, she couldn’t pull away.

“Once the mud is completely dry and sanded, we’ve got to prime and paint the walls in here. We still can’t move furniture in until Saturday because of the polyurethane on the floors.”

“None of that matters,” Pepper said. “That’s all little stuff I can do on my own. I can paint and hang pictures, move furniture, and put up curtains. Hanging drywall and disassembling my bathroom faucet is another matter. I mean . . . the lights come on in here now. You don’t understand how huge that is.”

“Well, remember, Mack says you still need to look into getting the house rewired. He was able to fix the connection so the outlets and switches would work in here again, but they’re old and really need to be replaced. If I were you, I’d contact an electrician to get a quote and start saving up to have that done.”

Pepper turned in his arms to look at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled her body tight against his own. “Thank you for this. For all of this. It’s more than I ever expected.”

“Hey, when you pay good money for Grant Chamberlain, you get nothing but the best.”

“Indeed.” Pepper leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. A tingle of awareness surged down her arms, making her fingertips press hungrily into his neck. She felt the familiar tug of desire in her belly, even after just a few moments of touching him. He had this ability to draw an immediate reaction from her body. He always had. It was a wonder she managed to resist his advances for as long as she had. Now that she had given in twice, it was har

d to imagine ever stopping. So many women had loved and lost Grant in the past. How had they gotten through it? Perhaps they were smarter than she was.

Grant pulled away and looked down at her. He seemed to study her face for a moment, then a small smile curled his lips.

“I want to take you out for Valentine’s Day,” he said.

Pepper’s brow drew together in confusion. That was the last thing she expected to hear. “You said that working on the house was my date.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a dismissive tone. “And it is, technically. But I can’t spend all week with you, working on your house, making love on the kitchen floor, and then leave you alone and lonely on Valentine’s Day. It just doesn’t seem right.”

Pepper shrugged. She had never put much value in the holiday, but standing here in his arms, she understood what he meant. She suddenly wanted to spend the day with him, too, but she wasn’t about to say it. “I told you, I’m not that big on Valentine’s Day. I think it’s just an excuse to drain a guy’s wallet on crap no one really needs.”

“I know, but it’s not about the gifts, it’s about the time. I promise I won’t waste a bunch of money on inflated gestures like giant boxes of chocolate or stuffed bears. Nothing cheesy. But I am going to take you out to a nice dinner with wine and good conversation. And for dessert . . . well, let’s just say I intend to have the bed in this room and ready to be used by then.”

Pepper twisted her lips into a smile. As much as she despised the commercial holiday, she had to admit it sounded nice after a week of working so hard on the house. The only worry was how public it would be. Once they stepped out together for the holiday, there would be no hiding that they were . . . whatever they were. Then again, the town already knew she bought him for Valentine’s Day. There would probably be more talk if she didn’t go out with him.

“Just you and me at a relaxing dinner? No paintbrushes and no hammers?”

“Not a one. Maybe a screwdriver, but the kind with orange juice and vodka.”

“Okay,” she relented, trying to ignore the surge of girlish excitement that was tingling in her spine. She could feel herself getting sucked into whatever this was. “But let’s not go to all the trouble of the fancy date you offered in the auction program. Let’s just do something simple in town.”

“I’ll see if I can get reservations at Whittaker’s. It’s a little late for that, but otherwise, it’s you and me at Pizza Palace.”

Pepper didn’t care. “That’s fine with me. I’ll whoop you at Skee-Ball.”

“Skee-Ball, huh? I’m pretty good, myself. But I am not getting you a Valentine’s gift I bought with game tickets, for the record.”

“Why not? You’ve already done more than enough for me. Even with the four thousand dollars I’d saved up, I don’t think I would’ve gotten as much labor done. The floors, the window . . .” She gestured toward her brand-new, operational, and not-drafty window beside them.

Grant turned toward it, and then jerked away from her. “What the hell?”

Pepper stepped back, looking in the direction of whatever had caught Grant’s attention. It was just the bedroom window.

He rushed over to it, throwing open the new pane and crawling through it, only to tear off across her neighbor’s front yard after something.

She quickly closed and locked the window and about ten minutes later, there was a knock at her front door. Pepper opened it to find Grant standing on her porch. He was bent over, bracing his hands on his knees as his chest rose and fell rapidly with his ragged breathing.

“What is it?” Pepper asked. “What did you see?”

“The damn peeper!” he shouted angrily between breaths.

Pepper stepped back to let him inside, and he immediately reached for his cell phone on the table. She stood silent as he called the police station and reported her second run-in with the notorious Rosewood Peeping Tom.