Sharon Swan - Home-Grown Husband

Tess set her glass down on the coffee table with an audible click. She turned and aimed every bit of cleavage she had directly at Jordan’s chiseled profile. “Dinner can wait,” she said in the most come-hither whisper she could produce.

Jordan turned his head then. And looked. And stared. At last he raised his gaze, inch by inch, until it finally locked with hers. “Are you, by any chance,” he said very softly, “trying to seduce me?”

Tess lost her temper. “Of course I’m trying to seduce you! Why else would I go to all this trouble? And you have the nerve to tell me you can’t wait to eat dinner!”

Hazel eyes wide, Jordan set his glass down with a clunk and rose. His own temper seemed to flare. “Do you know how long I’ve been ready? Willing, and damn eager, as a matter of fact?”

Now her eyes went wide. “So why didn’t you do something?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“Because I thought you weren’t ready,” Jordan replied.

Tess took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

Dear Reader,

What better way to celebrate June, a month of courtship and romance, than with four new spectacular books from Harlequin American Romance?

First, the always wonderful Mindy Neff inaugurates Harlequin American Romance’s new three-book continuity series, BRIDES OF THE DESERT ROSE, which is a follow-up to the bestselling TEXAS SHEIKHS series. In the Enemy’s Embrace is a sexy rivals-become-lovers story you won’t want to miss.

When a handsome aristocrat finds an abandoned newborn, he turns to a beautiful doctor to save the child’s life. Will the adorable infant bond their hearts together and make them the perfect family? Find out in A Baby for Lord Roderick by Emily Dalton. Next, in To Love an Older Man by Debbi Rawlins, a dashing attorney vows to deny his attraction to the pregnant woman in need of his help. With love and affection, can the expectant beauty change the older man’s mind? Sharon Swan launches her delightful continuing series WELCOME TO HARMONY with Home-Grown Husband, which features a single-mom gardener who looks to her mysterious and sexy new neighbor to spice up her life with some much-needed excitement and romance.

This month, and every month, come home to Harlequin American Romance—and enjoy!

Best,

Melissa Jeglinski

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin American Romance

Home-Grown Husband

Sharon Swan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my family, the whole wonderful bunch

Born and raised in Chicago, Sharon Swan once dreamed of dancing for a living. Instead, she surrendered to life’s more practical aspects, settled for an office job, concentrated on typing and being a Chicago Bears fan. Sharon never seriously considered writing a career until she moved to the Phoenix area and met Pierce Brosnan at a local shopping mall. It was a chance meeting that changed her life because she found herself thinking, what if? What if two fictional characters had met the same way? That formed the basis for her next novel, and she’s now cheerfully addicted to writing contemporary romance and playing what if?

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

912—COWBOYS AND CRADLES

928—HOME-GROWN HUSBAND * Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

“I think it’s time you took a lover,” one of Tess Cameron’s closest friends told her. “And I mean now. This summer. You’re too young to let life of the more intimate sort pass you by.”

Tess threw her head back and laughed out loud, her blue eyes sparkling with amused surprise at the unexpected turn in the conversation. They’d been discussing men in general over coffee at the round breakfast table set in a corner of her large, sunny kitchen. But this was a long way from general.

“And where do you suggest I find one?” she asked, for the sake of argument more than anything. “You have to admit the pickings are slim in Harmony.”

Not that the small city nestled in the low mountains northeast of Phoenix was all that far from Arizona’s largest, Tess reflected. Still there was no denying that the majority of males in the immediate vicinity fell into one of three categories when it came to potential lovers for a widow about to turn thirty: too young, too old or too married.

“Slim, but not hopeless,” Sally Mendoza maintained with a firm shake of her head that sent her dark shoulder-length hair swinging. “You wouldn’t be looking for a husband and daddy replacement, after all, which is admittedly harder to find.” Deep brown eyes, slanting up at the tips, narrowed thoughtfully. “At least, I assume you wouldn’t.”

Tess sipped her coffee, well aware that she’d never raved about her marriage, to Sally or anyone else. “You’re right, I’m in no hurry to take another walk down the aisle.”

She’d been in too much of a hurry the first time, she recognized in hindsight, too full of youthful ideals and boundless expectations of eternal bliss, to take a step back and consider the wisdom of leaping into a lifetime commitment. Too inexperienced in the ways of the world to know that love alone couldn’t conquer all, that two people had to find some common ground, share an understanding of the path they wanted to take in life, one that satisfied them both, before they could share a happy future.

Now she was older, and hopefully wiser.

Not that being married to Roger had been terrible. No, that wasn’t true at all. It just hadn’t been terribly good after the first year. The only really wonderful thing to come out of it was their daughter, Ali.

“So a lover is what’s needed,” Sally summed up matter-of-factly.

“Maybe,” Tess’s sense of honesty had her conceding. She’d been without a man in her life for three years, and her body was increasingly reminding her of that fact. “I can hardly haul one off the street, though—provided there was anything interesting walking around out there to begin with.”

Sally lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “What about Mr. Mysterious, your new next-door neighbor?”

Tess leaned back in a far-from-new bentwood chair. Despite its age, the faded flowered padding provided a comfortably cozy cushion for her body. Given the choice, she knew she’d take comfort over style any day, even with an unlimited bank account to draw on. That was strictly her preference. The most stylish furniture on the market wouldn’t have won a second glance from her, not if it didn’t look comfortable.

And even more important than comfort was contentment. To her, it was vital. Rather than taking her good fortune for granted, she routinely thanked her lucky stars that she was content, both with who she was as a person and with the life she’d chosen—even if it might be lacking in one particular area. Then again, having a man around wasn’t everything, she reminded herself, although she had to admit to some current curiosity when it came to a certain member of the male species.

“He’s mysterious, all right,” she said, cocking a light brown eyebrow. “It’s been almost a week since he moved in, and I’ve barely glimpsed him pulling in and out of his garage.”

“Well, sometimes you can tell a lot about people by what they drive.” Sally tapped a crimson-tipped finger on the glass-topped table. “Is it a sports car—something sleek, sizzling scarlet, and sexy as sin?”

Tess smiled. “Sorry to shatter that little fantasy, but it’s a fairly late model SUV, probably of the four-wheel-drive variety, and it seems to be black under all the dust.”

“So he’s not rich,” Sally concluded, “though not poor by any means, given the money they want for those all-terrain numbers, and he’s probably been too busy lately to wash it.”

“Or he’s been waiting for the wife and six kids to show up and do the job for him,” Tess tacked on dryly.

Sally finished her coffee and set her mug down. “Uh-uh. No wife and kiddies. Leslie Hanson told me when I ran into her at the supermarket yesterday that a ‘single gentleman’ had rented the house her great-aunt left her. A short-term lease, she said.” A sly grin appeared. “And it just so happens that your darling child will be gone all summer, visiting her grandparents. I’d say that’s fate, Tess.”

“Yeah, right.” Tess made a face. “He could easily wind up being the stuff women’s nightmares are made of, complete with sweaty palms and a bobbing Adam’s apple.”

“Or he could turn out to be your dream man,” Sally countered as she got to her feet. Today her lush figure was shown to advantage by a navy halter top and walking shorts.

“I don’t have a dream man,” Tess said firmly, rising. Her yellow T-shirt and ancient jeans outlined a slender body that was, she knew, far from lush. She was content with that, as well. Most of the time, at any rate. She just had to stay away from Victoria’s Secret catalogs. “What I have is a daughter I love more than anything in the world, a job I’m crazy about, and definite plans for a good, solid future.”

“Which is absolutely great, and I’m delighted for you. But all of that still won’t provide what a full-grown female needs, at least on occasion, in the middle of the night.” Sally rinsed her mug out in the sink and leaned against the ivory-tile counter. “A lover, on the other hand—”

“Okay, Sal, I get your drift.”

“Then give it some consideration,” said the mother of cheerfully rowdy, seven-year-old twin boys who was happily wed to a hunk of a husband she blatantly adored—and who clearly returned the favor. “There’s no reason to do without certain pleasures when you don’t have to. So think about it.”

Tess thought about it after Sally left, mulling over her friend’s advice as she stared out a curtained kitchen window into the brilliant sunshine so much a part of long summers in the Southwest. Certainly, she had plenty of time to think in the middle of a quiet Saturday morning with Ali away. Too quiet, it seemed, without the sound of well-used running shoes thumping up and down the stairs.

Not that there weren’t things to do, she reminded herself. The ever-present laundry, for instance. Vacuuming and dusting, too. Or, in the real-challenge category, she could try to coax the plump cat regally tolerating her presence in her own house into unbending enough to share a companionable hour tending the flowers in the backyard.