“Getting warm,” he commented as she clacked over to the grass and set Prada down. The full moon cast an oyster glow over the oasis of the backyard. The landscape design firm had already begun work, bringing in large potted plants and pulling out scraggly azaleas and replacing them with lush knockout roses. A partially built retaining wall leveled the yard into neat sections that with the addition of slate steps would make all areas accessible during the shower she would throw for Emma and Andrew at the end of June. She had three weeks to get everything done. Three weeks to make Melanie’s party look like chump change.
Somehow that was comforting.
She needed to beat Melanie at this wedding thing.
“It is getting warm. I forgot how quickly the heat’s turned on in Louisiana,” she responded to Joseph.
He stood framed against the pot lights of her patio. His face was shrouded in the darkness, but his hunky form was starkly outlined. “Where did you live before moving here?”
“I’m actually from here. Grew up about a mile that way in Broadmoor. Had a nice view of all the big houses in South Highlands.”
“Really.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yeah, I sort of lost my accent. When I graduated high school, I moved to NYC and never really looked back. I still have a place in Manhattan. Another in Winter Park, Colorado. I’ve lived in Paris for a year, Rio for six months, and a small island off the coast of Maine. Now I’m back here. Go figure.”
Joseph shoved his free hand into his pocket, sipped his beverage, and eyed her. “Why?”
“Why Shreveport?” Loaded question. “My son just moved here. His fiancée, soon to be wife, is attending medical school. She’s from here, and Andrew has always romanticized the South. He used to spend a few weeks every summer here with my parents, climbing trees, catching crawdads, and generally running hog wild. He longed for this place, weirdly enough. Honestly, I believe Emma being from Shreveport was half the initial attraction to her. He latched on.”
“Huh.”
Joseph wasn’t much for conversation. He reminded her of her father—a man of few words. She waited while Prada waddled back and looked up expectantly. The damned dog wanted to be carried around like a princess. Tennyson sighed and stooped down, picking up the pup. When she did, a strap popped loose. “Crap.”
“What?”
“My dress is . . .” She tugged the spaghetti strap, ripping it from the dress. It could damned well be a strapless dress now. The other strap hung uselessly. She left it for later, afraid the ripping sound on the other side had done irreparable damage. “There.”
“Are you tearing your clothes off? Do I need to remind you I have an obligation to protect the public from indecency?” he asked, his voice holding humor.
She turned around. “Are you making a joke, Officer Rhett?”
He shrugged. “I have a sense of humor.”
“Where do you hide it? That uniform looks tight,” she said, adding a flirt to her voice because why the hell not? She hadn’t been with a man in so long she’d forgotten how they tasted, felt beneath her fingers, or did weird things like leave the toilet seat up. No, she wouldn’t mind taking a spin on Joseph Rhett at all.
She walked past him and noted his cheeks looked slightly flushed, but his eyes looked hungry.
Good.
She waited at the door, and as he stepped through, he said, “I didn’t say I need protection, did I?”
He dropped his eyes to where the dress strap hung loose. Then the good officer reached out and gave it a tug before slipping back into the house. She closed the door, her body suddenly warm, her breathing slightly off-kilter.
Joseph Rhett was definitely a pro at playing the seduction game. Thing was, Tennyson loved playing that game. Even more so, she loved winning that game. Because in this particular game there really wouldn’t be a loser. Not if she could actually get that man where she wanted him.
Under her.
She clacked off, and with a quick kiss near the bow on Prada’s head, she shoved her pup into the fancy kennel in the laundry room. She’d considered letting the pup sleep with her, but then had a nightmare in which she rolled over on the dog and killed it. So kennel for Prada. She switched on the noise-canceling machine sitting on the granite counter and closed the door.
Joseph stood behind her, and she bumped into him. He reached out