Naked (2 page)

“Neither here nor there?” He kicked out his legs, his butt bouncing on the trampoline as he made his way to the edge. “Let me guess…a degree in English or art history?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s a little judgmental.”

For the record, it was neither. She had a master’s in business administration.

He cocked his head. “You’re right. An English major probably wouldn’t be driving a Cayenne.” He winked, and she felt it…everywhere.

So she had a Porsche. It was a gift from her father. It’s not like she was going to ask him to take it back.

A slight breeze settled across her skin and goosebumps covered her legs. With a gasp, she crossed her arms over her chest and clamped her legs together. It was then that she realized she had run out of the house with no shoes and in tiny short-shorts. At least she had her torso covered. She’d been hiding herself under heavy sweaters and refusing to make eye contact for months. No need to prove she was as imperfect on the outside as she felt on the inside.

“So you just moved to the neighborhood?” she asked.

You don’t need to know that. You don’t need to know anything other than he’s not bleeding out.

“You know there’s an easier way to get to know me.” He bounced a couple of times on the trampoline as he jumped off, then walked closer.

She crossed her arms over her chest, doing her best to guard herself from the six-foot-two wall of sexiness approaching. “I don’t think that—”

“We could go on a date.” He said it so matter-of-factly, she was afraid she’d heard incorrectly.

“A…” No. No dates. She wasn’t ready to date. She could barely function when she picked up groceries and the store was busy, let alone go on a date with…

A really sexy man who is looking like he wants to screw your brains out.

She whimpered. His gaze roamed everywhere, but like a gentleman, when she spoke, he looked into her eyes.

“I can’t. I…I’m going into the city tomorrow, so—”

“Then go out with me tonight.”

“Wha…” This guy was relentless. Old Violet would have appreciated his candor and persistence, but not hopeless Violet. Hopeless Violet just wanted to get through the day without squirming whenever she looked in the mirror. “I can’t go out with you tonight.”

He stepped even closer and she drew in a quick breath. “You have other plans?”

“No, but…” She had no plans. Zero. Other than looking over city zoning applications.

“Then you’re free.” Dimples. They were going to be the death of her. Or the resurrector of her libido. She had no idea which would come out on top.

She scoffed. “You don’t even know my name and you want to go on a date?”

He stepped forward. She’d spent many hours surrounded by sweaty, dirty construction workers, but never had the scent of manual labor turned her on. Maybe it was the beauty of his body. The way he moved with such agility and precision on that roof. The way his biceps flexed whenever he lifted something, or pulled off a shingle, or raised his hammer. Or the way it flexed right now as he held out his hand in greeting.

Fuck. Rinse. Repeat.

She stifled a whimper.

Resurrector of the libido.

Definitely.

“I’m Noah Y—”

“No.” She thrust out her hands to stop him. “No last names.”

Although she had no reason to believe that this stranger would know her, back home just the mention of her name in a public place would trigger the discussion of her accident and the implosion of her life.

“All right.” He eyed her curiously. “And you are…?”

“Violet.” She grasped his hand. His skin was rough against hers. A stark contrast to her soft, unworked hands.

“Nice to meet you, Violet.” How did he do that? Even with an uneven grin those dimples made an appearance. “I’ll pick you up at eight?”

She’d had severely limited interaction with the human species for the last five months. Maybe it was about time she tried to do something normal. No, it was those dimples. They were like the forbidden fruit she’d never had the chance to taste.

She let out a heavy breath. What did she have to lose? She was only here for four more weeks before she returned to Toronto, back to her old life, which included taking over as CEO of Walker Industries.

Besides, Noah was barely home. Probably screwing the legions of women who fell at his feet. At least if their date ended up being a total disaster she wouldn’t have long to wallow in her humiliation.

“Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “On one condition.”

He smiled in victory and once again, the dimple and teeth combo were like a one-two punch to her vagina.

“No last names. No history. Just…there’s no need to get into all our baggage.” She waved her hand. She had a 747’s worth of baggage.

“So you have baggage?” He looked on with interest. Setting those parameters probably intrigued him even more. “Doesn’t everybody?” She knew that was true, but right now she didn’t think anyone had more baggage than she did.

“Do we have a deal?”

Going out with Noah would satisfy Roxy’s demands. Maybe even give her the opportunity to test out that mantra.

Because Noah was definitely a man who encouraged repetition.

“We have a deal, Violet.”

Keeping their histories close to the vest was her attempt at self-preservation. Noah didn’t need to know what was going on under her clothing or in her messed-up brain. He didn’t want to know.

Men didn’t date hideous.

And as long as she could hide it, she could pretend to be normal.

Chapter 2

He’d hit the jackpot. Noah Young walked down his driveway to the sidewalk, and over to the path that led to Violet’s front door.

Over the last few weeks, he’d only caught a glimpse of her a few times running in and out of her house. She never acknowledged her surroundings. Never said hello. She only seemed to be interested in him from the security of her home, sneaking a peek through the window.

If he was honest, he loved the way she watched him. It was a major turn-on—not to mention, she was the first real connection he’d made since he’d moved here. He’d been so desperate to interact with someone he’d faked falling off his roof just to talk to her.

He walked up the steps to her front door, pulling at the lapels of his blazer. He only had one. He’d paired it with jeans. He wasn’t taking her to the opera. In fact, he was pretty sure that Wally’s—the town’s only watering hole—was classified as less than casual on the attire scale. Which made him second-guess his choice of venue. He had a feeling this woman was used to luxury. Not that he’d be able to confirm it. He wasn’t allowed to ask, which meant he wasn’t going to get any answers to his burning questions. Such as why she watched him. Why she refused to make eye contact. Why she was hiding out here in a small town with no visitors. He’d woven many stories about her over the last few weeks. That she was recently divorced, or in the witness protection program. Both totally plausible.

She opened the door before his knuckles even hit the wood. “Hi.” The word lengthened as he blew out a breath at the sight of her.

She was gorgeous.

“Hello.” Her eyes lowered to the ground, but he’d caught a glimpse of emerald green before they disappeared.

It was piggish of him, but he couldn’t help himself. He surveyed her body from the top of the shiny brown hair that hung just below her shoulders to the sexy black high heels she had on her feet. She was perfectly put together in a short black skirt that totally accentuated her legs—her mile-long legs—and a silk scarf, which he’d seen her wear many times, that hung perfectly over a cream blouse. For as exposed as she was on the bottom, she was completely covered on top. “You look beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes.

It wasn’t a line. Although he’d admit he’d used it as such a time or two. But that didn’t apply to Violet. She
was
beautiful. A dainty, upper-class beautiful that, a long time ago, he’d learned all too well was far out of his league. But he was willing to relive his mistakes if it meant being able to speak to someone other than Mavis, the full-time waitress at Wally’s.

“All right, then. You look hideous.” He bent his knees to catch her gaze, which was still focused on the ground.

She laughed under her breath. The tiny giggle settled over him like a warm blanket.

“Much better. I like the sound of your laugh.”

She rolled her eyes again.

He stepped back, placing his hand on the doorframe. “Is everything I say going to annoy you?”

“I’m…sorry. I just…” She blew out a breath and it caught a flyaway strand of her brown hair. “It’s been a really long time since I’ve done this and…” Her face scrunched up, revealing a tiny vein that ran down the middle of her forehead. “I think I forgot.”

“Impossible. It’s like riding a bike.” He held out his elbow. “Shall we, Violet?” He leaned closer. She smelled like summer, coconut, and flowers. “Just Violet.”

She smiled demurely and took his arm. Her hands smoothed over the fabric of his jacket and lingered, feeling her way over the wool. Immediately he wished he’d worn a T-shirt instead. He had no doubt the contact of their skin would be electric.

“I thought we could walk,” he said when they reached the sidewalk. “It’s a nice night and we’re not going very far.”

Their houses sat in a cul de sac with six others, all backing onto farmland. The street hadn’t changed since he was a child. He’d grown up in the house he was currently renovating.

She nodded, and they walked side by side toward their destination.

Every step she took showed off her calves. He had to admit, he couldn’t help but want to know how those strong legs would feel wrapped around his hips.

He cleared his throat, shaking off the illicit thought.

The warm spring air settled over them, bringing with it the scent of lilac. The same lilac bush sat under the Beckfords’ bay window across the street. He made a mental note to go and check on them in the next couple of days. They lived in that house all alone, their children now living in the city. He often brought them groceries even though they never asked.

“I love that smell.” She breathed deeply beside him. Her entire body relaxed in an instant. “Lilac brings back good memories for me.”

“For me, too.”

She looked over, surprised at his response.

“I can like lilacs,” he defended. It reminded him of a time when things were perfect, when his family was whole.

She held out her hands and she smiled wide, the widest, most genuine smile he’d seen since he’d fallen off the roof. He was going to have to step up his game in order to ensure her face stayed that way.

They walked two more blocks in silence, until Violet asked, “What’s with all the dandelions?”

“The seeds blow over from the surrounding farms. They’re tough to get rid of.” He remembered his father spending hours on the lawn every spring trying to fix the dandelion problem.

Finally, they reached the two-block radius that made up downtown Stillbride and he led her into the pub where they grabbed a table near the back. Wally’s looked just like a small-town pub would—tiny, well-used, and full of men and women who’d lived in this town their whole lives.

“Hello there, handsome.” Mavis wrapped her arm around his shoulders and patted him in a motherly fashion. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Wiped from work and renovations, but I—” He stopped talking when it was apparent Mavis was no longer interested in him.

“Well, well.” Mavis eyed Violet with interest. “We’ve all been wondering who the mysterious woman living in Mrs. Trimble’s old house is and…” She waved her hand in Violet’s direction. “Here you are.”

As if turning on a switch, Violet’s smile appeared. “Hello. I’m Violet.” She was still present enough to omit her last name.

“I’m Mavis Horton.” She held out her hand with a devious twinkle in her eye. “Nice to finally meet you, Violet.” She tapped her pad of paper on her palm. “Floyd!” Mavis yelled over her shoulder. “Look who’s here.”

Floyd Jergen, an older gentleman who lived on the other side of Violet, was up and out of his seat as soon as he’d laid eyes on their table.

Mavis made the introductions. “Floyd, meet your neighbor Violet.”

Floyd held out his hand and Violet grasped it.

“You are a beauty.” Mavis elbowed Floyd in the ribs.

Violet lowered her eyes to the ground at the compliment.

“You’re the lovely lady who bought Mrs. Trimble’s house?” Floyd asked.

“Oh, you also knew the woman who lived in my house.”

“Everybody knew Mrs. Trimble, dear,” Mavis answered for him. “She was older than dirt, but the sweetest thing you’d ever meet.”

“I told you she spoke English,” Floyd said.

“Excuse me?” Violet was genuinely confused, but she laughed.

“I’ve seen you, but you’re not much for conversation.” Floyd shrugged. “Mavis thought maybe you didn’t speak the language. Otherwise why would you be antisocial?”

Noah suppressed his laugh. He’d grown up in this town and most of the people he remembered from childhood were still around, doing the same things. He knew all about the local mentality and the presumption that anyone who didn’t want to spend thirty minutes talking about the state of their lawn or the potholes on Main Street was antisocial.

“Have…” Violet recoiled in her chair, shrinking into herself. “Have I been the topic of conversation?” Her discomfort with that revelation was obvious. She’d been perfectly social otherwise.

Mavis shrugged. “A time or two.”

“Mavis.” Noah interrupted, knowing that this conversation was only going to get more intrusive. “Why don’t you bring us a pitcher of your finest beer?”

“You got it, honey.” She winked and hustled Floyd away from the table back to his seat at the bar.

Violet leaned across the table, lowering her voice. “Why would they talk about me?” She got fidgety, her hands wringing together on the table.

“You’re new. Most of these people have lived here their whole lives. When someone new breezes into town, it practically makes the front page of the newspaper.”

She shook her head vehemently. “I’m no one special. There’s no reason for people to be interested in me.”