She swallowed. He got his breath back. She remembered to drop her hands from around his neck. He remembered to drop his hands from around her back. The flush on her cheeks-there was no changing that.
There was no changing the brick inside his jeans, either.
But suddenly she turned her head, said out of the complete blue, “We really do need a fence between our yards, to keep our pets separated.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that before.” Since she created the diversion, he was more than willing to embellish it. “Instead of a barrier kind of fence…what would you think about an electric one?”
“What a great idea. Then your dog and my dog can’t cross over. But then it won’t be an unfriendly fence. It’ll just…you know. Help.”
Exactly what he thought. Maybe their dogs didn’t need it-but he sure as hell did. He needed something that would zap him-electrocute him if necessary-when he felt the urge to touch her again.
The electrocution idea seemed to gain momentum all on its own, because when he heard the sound of a car pulling in his drive, he jumped back from Amanda as if the foot between them was electrically charged.
The man climbing down from a tan SUV was a complete stranger. He was short and plump, sweating under his golf tan. He wore the usual suburban uniform of polo shirt and shorts, and approached them with a waxy smile and a hand raised to shake. “Hello. I live in the first house at the top of the cul-de-sac. I know you’re Amanda Scott and Mike Conroy. I hope you both got a note from me when you first moved in.”
If Mike had, he didn’t remember it. Amanda did. “From the Home Owners’ Association?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I thought it was nice of you to welcome a newcomer to the neighborhood that way,” Amanda said warmly.
“I thought we’d better have a little talk before there were problems,” Warren White said cordially.
“What problems?” Mike said warily.
“We have some rules in the neighborhood. Ordinances. Policies to keep the neighborhood to a standard we all like.”
“Exactly what rules?” Mike’s spine was instinctively stiffening. If this guy was going to try playing law games with him, he should have done his homework.
“I’m afraid you can’t put a water garden in your backyard without permission.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“And, Amanda, I’m afraid you need permission to plant trees, as well.”
“What? You mean, the little dogwood I planted yesterday-?”
Warren kindly shook his head. “I’m afraid you needed permission. I’m sorry you didn’t get it ahead of time.”
Warren promised to put a list of the rules in each of their mailboxes. There were rules about what time a person could water their grass. Rules about recycling. Rules about noise. Rules about dandelion control. Rules about the length of grass allowed. Rules about no parking on the street overnight, no RV parking, no sheds put up in the yards-without permission. “Many people want fences, but we don’t want the look of the neighborhood to deteriorate, so before putting in a fence, that’s another thing you need to have permission for-”
“When exactly are these Home Owners’ Association meetings, and where are they held?” Mike interrupted abruptly.
“Every third Thursday of the month. 7:00 p.m., after dinner. Because I’m president this year, I usually hold them in my family room. You’re both welcome to attend. But I do assure you that the covenant rules are all legally binding.”
For no apparent reason, Amanda suddenly snugged her hand in his, pressing hard, and stepped just a bit in front of him. “Thanks so much for stopping by, Mr. White. I suspect we’re both likely to attend your next meeting. Thanks for filling us in.”
When the superficial, supercilious jerk backed out of the driveway, she dropped his hand. “Okay. Now you can froth at the mouth. But try not to bellow at least until he’s out of sight.”
“Why would you think I was angry?”
“A wild guess,” she assured him. “Although seeing you exhale fire was probably the first clue.”
“Well, who elected him God? Did we suddenly land in a dictator state, or is this still America? What possible reason can there be why I can’t have a water garden? And if he thinks I’m taking it out, he’s about to find out why I made law partner when I was still in my twenties.”
“Mike.”
“What?”
“Try and remember that we’re in a foreign country. I think they call it the suburbs.”
Okay, okay, so she made him laugh in spite of himself.
And right then, Nancy and her George drove up-almost two hours earlier than planned. Teddy peeled out of the car faster than a criminal just granted parole.
Mike still wanted to finish his conversation with Amanda, but abruptly her hot-shot ex pulled in next door with Molly.
There was no more time to worry about sex or embraces or how damn much she was starting to mean to him.
From the look on his son’s face, it was going to be a ticklish evening. And from the look on Molly’s… Amanda was going to have her hands even more full.
Amanda didn’t want to leave Mike. She knew the neighborhood “representative” had rubbed him the wrong way. Warren White struck her as the kind of ineffectual person who had no power in his real life, so he got a thrill out of imposing rules on others about their water-sprinkling schedules. Still. Mike should realize the guy was just a pompous wannabe bully…not a real problem.
In the meantime, though, she couldn’t be the one to calm him down.
She definitely had her hands full with Molly.
Her daughter submitted to a bath, willingly changed into pink baby-doll pajamas, but after that, she folded her arms across her chest with a major diva scowl. “I want some mommy time and I want it now.”
It wasn’t as if Amanda hadn’t been through this before. She put a fluffy blanket on the deck. Brought out the tray of nail polishes. Molly brought her doll-size tea set. The teapot was filled with milk.
“Daddy tricked me!” was the dramatic opening to Molly’s tirade.
“How, honey?”
“He was real nice and real nice and real nice. Only, then we got to his house. And there was a lady there. A stupid lady.”
Across the way, Amanda could see lights popping on and off at Mike’s house. Her attention was on her daughter, but a thick clog seemed to have settled in her stomach. Mike was probably doing exactly what she was. Dealing with a child wounded by their divorce. Through no fault of their own, his Teddy and her Molly were both still reeling from the mistakes of their parents.
Molly, temporarily, stopped her rant to study her hands, which had been soaked and filed and were now ready for the fun part. Color. “Can we do our toenails after our hand nails?”
“Sure.”
“I want yellow for my toenails.”
“I’m pretty sure we have yellow.” Amanda didn’t actually look at the basket of polishes, but since color was always a major issue for her daughter, she was almost positive they had the whole crayon set of choices.
“And I want different colors for every hand nail.”
“Okay.” Amanda had learned a long time ago never to sweat the small stuff. “Now tell me more about your day.”
“She had on this big fakey smile. Like grown-ups use for kids. And she says, ‘How would you like to go shopping with me?’ And I say, ‘No, thanks, I’m here to see my dad.’ And she says, ‘If we go shopping, I thought I’d get you an American Girl doll.’ And I say, ‘No, thank you, my mommy gets me all the American Girl dolls I could possibly want.’” Molly looked up with stormy eyes. “Okay. So that was a lie. And it was really hard to say no, because I really, really need another American Girl doll. But she was being a pain.”
“Honey. Sweetheart. Now, think a minute. It doesn’t sound like she was being a pain. It sounds as if she was trying very, very hard to be nice to you.”