the beach, Jared could make out a large fire pit, the rocks black from years of use. And then there were the flowers. Normally Jared didn’t give a crap about flowers—much less notice them. But it was impossible to ignore these. While the house and hangar needed some work, the garden was perfection. Even this early in the morning, the air was heavy with their fragrance.
Once, a long time ago, when he was just a kid, he’d dreamed about living in a place just like this. What an optimistic fool he’d been.
“It’s you.”
Jared turned toward the sound of the voice. Jenny stood in the doorway, one shoulder propped against the open screen door. She looked different than she had yesterday, as if she’d just rolled out of bed. But even sleep-rumpled, she was just as gorgeous. He couldn’t help but think she’d look completely at home frolicking around Hugh Hefner’s mansion in a bunny suit. Her honey blonde hair fell past her shoulders in a mass of untamed curls. Instead of the pink dress and high heels, she wore shorts and a faded gray sweatshirt that said Go Huskies! in purple letters. Her feet were bare, with one foot resting on top of the other. The only thing that reminded him of the made-up girl he’d seen yesterday were her hot pink toenails and churlish expression.
“Expecting someone else?”
“Hoping.”
“For?”
A springy lock of hair fell across her forehead, and she pushed it back. “That you were a nightmare. And like all horrible dreams, when morning came, you’d be gone.”
He laughed. “Sweetheart, I’ve been told I’m the stuff of dreams, but those women begged me to stick around.”
Her lips tightened into a scowl. “I’m not your sweetheart. And before I can deal with an ego that big, I need caffeine.” Without another word, she disappeared back inside the house. The screen door banged shut behind her.
Jared crossed the yard. She wasn’t going to get rid of him that easily.
He walked into the house and saw her moving down a long hallway. He followed and entered the large kitchen in time to see her bang a teakettle onto a burner then turn and rummage in one of the cupboards.
She stretched to reach something on the top shelf, and Jared couldn’t help but notice her legs. For all her scatter-brained faults, Jenny Beckinsale had killer legs. Long and tanned and the kind that could wrap around a man and suck him in.
“Are you always this rude?” she asked, turning to face him with a mug in one hand a box of tea in the other. “Roaring into people’s driveways at the crack of dawn?”
“Seven thirty is hardly the crack of dawn.”
She grunted—grunted—and plopped a teabag into her cup. For several moments she seemed deep in thought until she finally held out her hand toward him. “I want to see your driver’s license.”
“Excuse me?” It wasn’t often a person surprised him, but in less than three minutes, she’d managed to do it twice.
“You heard me. Your driver’s license. It occurred to me after you left yesterday that you may not be who you say you are.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
Jared thought about arguing further, but what was the point? All he wanted was to get his money and get out of here. If her looking at his driver’s license would speed the process along, so be it. He dug his wallet out of his Levi’s back pocket and tossed it onto the nicked and scarred butcher-block countertop.
Before she picked it up, she gave him a glare, obviously pissed he hadn’t handed the wallet directly to her. Too bad, sweetheart.
While she took her sweet time studying his license, he looked around. He couldn’t see down the hallway to what he’d passed on the way in, but the kitchen was large—one of those country kitchens he’d seen on magazine covers at the checkout stands. But he got the feeling this was the real deal—no remodel job here. Wide planked floors, yellow walls, blue cupboards softened and sanded by years of use, and a large antique stove. The same wood floors that were in the kitchen stretched into the adjoining family room. A river rock fireplace dominated the far wall, and a bank of windows showcased a backyard full of more flowers. While the furniture was a little flowery for his taste, he had to admit that the plush sofa looked damned comfortable. Even with the faded flowery print, he could imagine sinking in and propping