Good with His Hands. Tanya MichaelsЧитать онлайн книгу.
going nowhere simply because he didn’t wear expensive suits to work? He was currently the lead builder on a new phase of a luxury subdivision. He’d worked before in brick and concrete neighborhoods where every house looked alike and the only landscaping attention was given to the token shrubbery surrounding the pool area and private tennis courts. This subdivision, on the other hand, had personality in addition to the community pool and clubhouse. Flowering magnolia and dogwood trees offered shade and color in generous-size yards; stately pines marched along property lines. It struck him as the kind of dream neighborhood his parents would have loved to raise him and Bryce in, had they ever been able to afford it.
“I’ve always been goal oriented,” Dani continued as she flipped on her bedroom light. “And I don’t mind busting my ass to meet those goals.” She shot him a grin. “But I try not to let it make me stuffy.”
“Definitely not the word I would use to describe you.”
Her apartment was so small there was no hallway. The living room sat in the center, with a kitchen and bedroom at either end. Now that there were more lights on, he was getting his first real look at the place. A flat-screen television hung on the wall, above a shelf of DVDs. Most of the titles he glimpsed were action movies.
“You bowl?” he asked, spotting a turquoise bowling bag in the corner.
“It used to be a weekly tradition for me and my dad. He gave me a ball for my birthday a few years back, but it’s been a while.”
“That him?” Sean asked, noting the framed eight-by-ten on a small end table. It looked pretty recent. Sean knew the stern-jawed man with silver hair was her father even before she nodded. The man had the same dark eyes as his daughter—and the same air of determination.
“Yep, that’s the Major,” she said, affectionate pride in her voice.
In the kitchen, a couple more photos were stuck to the refrigerator with pizza delivery magnets. One was a shot of Dani in a tank top and sunglasses, a runner’s number pinned to her shirt.
“Last year’s Peachtree Road Race,” she said, following his gaze. “The other one’s me and my friend Meg.”
The two women sat on the deck of a boat, crossing their eyes comically and raising bottles of beer.
“She barely looks old enough to drink,” he commented. “Or...I don’t know.” It wasn’t that the pretty woman literally looked underage. It was more a sense of innocence and youthful merriment. Strawberry-blond ringlets framed a cherubic face with a button nose, a smattering of freckles and a sweet smile. “If I had to guess, I’d say she either teaches kindergarten or directs a church choir. Maybe both.”
“She owns a high-end lingerie store and sells the occasional sex toy at private parties.”
While he absorbed that bombshell, Dani added, “I actually need to send her a quick text to let her know I, uh, got home okay. Excuse me for a sec?” She retrieved her cell phone from the purse she’d dropped as soon as they entered the apartment.
Sean continued his informal study of her place. Her personal mementos seemed limited to the three pictures he’d seen. Because she wasn’t overly sentimental, or because she’d removed any keepsakes that included her ex? Sean had an irrational urge to punch the unknown former fiancé in the nose. He hated the idea of any guy hurting her.
“Okay. Food,” Dani said decisively. She swung open the refrigerator door, frowned at the array of takeout containers, then checked the freezer.
Watching over her shoulder, Sean laughed. “Takeout food, beer and pizzas? You have the body of a swimsuit model, but the refrigerator of a frat house.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and I suppose your fridge is full of kale and imported brie?”
“Touché.”
The kitchen was small enough that Dani could preheat the oven without even stepping away from the fridge. She pulled a square box from the freezer. “I doubt college boys splurge on gourmet Mediterranean veggie pizzas. This okay with you?”
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