Lone Wolf. Sheri WhiteFeatherЧитать онлайн книгу.
when their laughter faded. He still held the dog by the scruff, but the pup squirmed something fierce.
“Sure.” She turned on the water and decided she liked Hawk Wainwright. But then, she liked his father, too. She stole a glance at Mrs. Pritchett’s house, certain the old woman watched from her window.
Was it true that the Wainwrights didn’t acknowledge Hawk? It did seem odd that he lived in a modest home, while Archy and his family resided on a sprawling ranch.
“Can you adjust the water level?” he asked.
“Oh, of course.” Jenny turned the flow to a mild spray, and between the two of them, they got the puppy clean.
Hawk still had flecks of mud on his jeans, but she noticed he was smiling.
Jenny smiled back at him, and the moment turned soft and gentle. The puppy rolled in the grass, kicking up his feet and exposing his belly.
“Will you have dinner with me?” Hawk asked.
Jenny’s breath lodged in her throat. Was he asking her on a date? A quiet meal, companionable conversation, a good-night kiss?
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t—
“I’ll order a pizza, and we can sit on my porch,” he suggested.
Her breath returned, and she pulled oxygen into her lungs. Pizza on his porch. That sounded safe enough.
“All right,” she heard herself say.
He smiled again, and she wished his smile wasn’t so charming. Roy’s smile had been charming, too. He’d been her white knight, the man who’d swept her off her feet. And then dragged her into a dungeon of pain.
“What do you want on it?”
Still lost in thought, she gave him a blank look.
“The pizza,” he clarified. “What toppings would you prefer?”
Suddenly she couldn’t focus on something as simple as pizza. Not with the dungeon lurking in her mind, the dank, cold reality of knowing Roy was out there somewhere. How often did she wake up screaming? Or hug her knees to her chest and cry?
“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Order whatever you want.”
“Of course it matters. You must have a preference.”
Did she? She used to eat what Roy told her eat, dress in the clothes he told her to wear, be the wife he wanted her to be.
“Pineapple,” she told Hawk. Roy hated pineapple on pizza. “And Canadian bacon.” Her ex-husband detested that, too.
“You got it. Now I better hop in the shower. I’ll come by and get you when the food arrives.”
He picked up the puppy, and Jenny watched him walk back to his house. The dog peered over his shoulder, and she smiled, feeling a spark of freedom, a shimmer of independence.
But when she went inside to bathe and put on some clean clothes, she panicked. Roy would kill her if he knew she was having dinner with another man.
Not figuratively kill her. He would actually put his hands around her throat and squeeze the life out of her.
But Roy wasn’t here, she reminded herself. And they were divorced. She had every right to share a pizza with her neighbor.
Her tall, gorgeous neighbor. The man who made her heart beat much too fast.
Hawk told himself he wasn’t nervous. He wasn’t a schoolboy with a foolish crush. He was a grown man who’d quit dating ages ago.
Hawk had occasional sex of course. Quiet, discreet affairs with women from his own race, women who accepted the lone wolf in him. But he didn’t date. And he especially didn’t court blue-eyed, color-treated blondes.
Like Tanya.
He’d been on the verge of falling in love with Tanya, of losing his heart and soul. But he was just a game to her. She’d only wanted him because he was dark and forbidden, the Indian stud, the back-street lover who was supposed to service her. And her roommate.
He picked up the pizza, balancing two cans of soda on top of the box. Jenny wasn’t anything like Tanya. Blue eyes and bleached hair didn’t make them the same.
Hawk headed for the door and felt something nudge his boot. He looked down and saw the pup, eager to go with him.
“I don’t think so, pal.”
The puppy whined, and Hawk felt like a heel. “All right. But behave yourself. We’ve got a lady to impress.”
The dog grinned, and Hawk narrowed his eyes. Was he being conned?
“I’m not sure I can trust you.”
He received an innocent bark in return, a sound that translated to I’ll be good. I promise.
“You better mean that.”
Another gentle bark. I do.
“You won’t take off running once you get a lick of freedom?”
“Woof,” the dog said again, his green eyes big and beguiling. No, sir. Not me.
Hawk opened the door, and the ball of fur flew past him. He cursed and nearly dropped the pizza.
Chasing the damned dog wasn’t possible, so he placed the food and drinks on a small table on his porch and strode across the lawn to Jenny’s house.
The puppy was already waiting on her doorstep, where he’d left muddy footprints. He wasn’t covered in the stuff, but he’d obviously taken a detour through the flower beds to reach his final destination.
“Don’t you dare grin at me,” Hawk warned.
The dog sniffed a fern, instead.
Jenny’s porch was cozier than Hawk’s. She’d decorated it with a gathering of potted plants. A swing that had been there for years creaked in the breeze.
He knocked and waited for her to answer.
She appeared in a white blouse and jeans, her gold-streaked hair fastened in a ponytail. The ribbon-enhanced style made her look sweet and girlish.
And it made Hawk feel as if he was fifteen again, too tall for his age, with sweaty palms and boyish desire that heated his loins.
“The pizza is here,” he said.
“Okay.” She knelt to pet the dog and laughed when she spotted his dirty feet. “He can’t keep those socks clean, can he?”
Hawk was still stuck on how pretty she looked, on how mouthwateringly good she smelled. He detected the faint aroma of raspberries, dipped in just a hint of custard. Or whipped cream. Or just plain feminine skin.
“You smell like dessert.”
She looked up at him, her voice suddenly shy. “It’s one of those body mists. I bought it at the market today.”
“I like it.”
She smiled, barely meeting his gaze. “Thank you.”
They walked side by side to his house, the puppy dancing around them.
He offered her one of the cedar chairs and handed her a soda and a slice of pizza, then realized he should have brought a couple of plates outside, not to mention a napkin or two.
Well, hell. He probably seemed uncivilized, like the barbarian most people thought he was. “I’ll be right back.” He left and returned with the plates and napkins.
Jenny accepted both gratefully. He sat in the chair opposite hers and went after two slices of pizza. He was starving, his stomach grumbling at the mere sight of food. He took a hearty bite and frowned at the dog. The little scoundrel was begging.
He tore a corner of the crust and handed it over. He’d already scrambled the puppy