“So beer? I also have vodka and can whip up a mean vodka tonic,” she said, sauntering toward the kitchen.
She felt his eyes on her and allowed her hips to sway a bit more than natural. She was very glad she’d worn the Marchesa Notte dress that fit her perfectly now that she had lost a few extra pounds.
“A bottled water would be fine. What happened to your dress?” he asked when she reached the kitchen and opened the fridge. She grabbed a Perrier, wishing he’d gone for something stronger. The man could use a little loosening up. The man could use a lot of loosening up. And maybe she was just the woman to do it.
“Oh, well, a bit of a catastrophe at my son’s engagement party,” she said, glancing down to make sure the safety pin was keeping everything in place. Her almost DD breasts were doing a great job of holding the dress up by themselves. She felt Officer Rhett’s eyes on her girls, too.
He jerked his gaze to hers when she looked at him.
“You have a son who’s old enough to get married?” he asked.
“I had him when I was twelve, so . . . ,” she joked.
His forehead crinkled almost adorably.
She handed him the Perrier, and he looked at it like she’d just handed him a tampon. “I’m joking. He’s twenty-three. I had him when I was young, but not twelve. You don’t like Perrier?”
“Never had it.”
“I have tap water. Totally paid the bill this month.”
Officer Rhett smiled, and she felt it in her girl parts. Jesus, the man had some power in that smile. It turned him into a total panty-dropper. He opened his sparkling water, and Tennyson busied herself pouring a vodka on the rocks. Who needed tonic? Extra calories.
“I’m fine, and I’m just saying that you look much too young to have a child getting married,” he said, raising the bottle and taking a long draft.
His throat muscles working to swallow were even sexy. Damn, she’d never found a guy drinking mineral water so hot. Of course, she wasn’t sure she’d ever been with a guy who requested water when she offered booze. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Officer Rhett.”
“You can call me Joseph,” he said, setting the bottle on the marble and looking at her with amusement.
“Not Joe?”
He shook his head. “That’s what my mom called me.”
No further explanation.
“Okay, then, Joseph, would you mind stepping onto the patio? I need to let Prada out to do her business before I put her in her kennel for the night.” She indicated with a nod of her head the double French doors.
He walked to the door, unlatched it, and slid it open. Tennyson scooped up Prada, who was sitting at her feet staring up adoringly, and went out into the night. Summer had arrived, bringing a hefty dose of humidity that made her hair curl. She hadn’t missed the frizziness that Louisiana brought to her hairstyles, that was for damned sure. But she liked the soft nights with the still darkness and quiet streets. So peaceful.
“Getting warm,” he commented as she clacked over to the grass and set Prada down. The full moon cast an oyster glow over the oasis of the backyard. The landscape design firm had already begun work, bringing in large potted plants and pulling out scraggly azaleas and replacing them with lush knockout roses. A partially built retaining wall leveled the yard into neat sections that with the addition of slate steps would make all areas accessible during the shower she would throw for Emma and Andrew at the end of June. She had three weeks to get everything done. Three weeks to make Melanie’s party look like chump change.
Somehow that was comforting.
She needed to beat Melanie at this wedding thing.
“It is getting warm. I forgot how quickly the heat’s turned on in Louisiana,” she responded to Joseph.
He stood framed against the pot lights of her patio. His face was shrouded in the darkness, but his hunky form was starkly outlined. “Where did you live before moving here?”
“I’m actually from here. Grew up about a mile that way in Broadmoor. Had a nice view of all the big houses in South Highlands.”
“Really.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yeah, I sort of lost my accent. When I graduated high school, I moved to NYC and never really looked back. I still have a place in Manhattan. Another in Winter Park, Colorado. I’ve lived in Paris for a year, Rio for six months, and a small island off the coast of Maine. Now I’m back here. Go figure.”
Joseph shoved his free hand into his pocket, sipped his beverage, and eyed her. “Why?”
“Why Shreveport?” Loaded question. “My son just moved here. His fiancée, soon to be wife, is attending medical school. She’s from here, and Andrew has always romanticized the South. He used to spend a few weeks every summer here with my parents, climbing trees, catching crawdads, and generally running hog wild. He longed for this place, weirdly enough. Honestly, I believe Emma being from Shreveport was half the initial attraction to her. He latched on.”
“Huh.”
Joseph wasn’t much for conversation. He reminded her of her father—a man of few words. She waited while Prada waddled back and looked up expectantly. The damned dog wanted to be carried around like a princess. Tennyson sighed and stooped down, picking up the pup. When she did, a strap popped loose. “Crap.”
“What?”
“My dress is . . .” She tugged the spaghetti strap, ripping it from the dress. It could damned well be a strapless dress now. The other strap hung uselessly. She left it for later, afraid the ripping sound on the other side had done irreparable damage. “There.”
“Are you tearing your clothes off? Do I need to remind you I have an obligation to protect the public from indecency?” he asked, his voice holding humor.
She turned around. “Are you making a joke, Officer Rhett?”
He shrugged. “I have a sense of humor.”
“Where do you hide it? That uniform looks tight,” she said, adding a flirt to her voice because why the hell not? She hadn’t been with a man in so long she’d forgotten how they tasted, felt beneath her fingers, or did weird things like leave the toilet seat up. No, she wouldn’t mind taking a spin on Joseph Rhett at all.
She walked past him and noted his cheeks looked slightly flushed, but his eyes looked hungry.
Good.
She waited at the door, and as he stepped through, he said, “I didn’t say I need protection, did I?”
He dropped his eyes to where the dress strap hung loose. Then the good officer reached out and gave it a tug before slipping back into the house. She closed the door, her body suddenly warm, her breathing slightly off-kilter.
Joseph Rhett was definitely a pro at playing the seduction game. Thing was, Tennyson loved playing that game. Even more so, she loved winning that game. Because in this particular game there really wouldn’t be a loser. Not if she could actually get that man where she wanted him.
Under her.
She clacked off, and with a quick kiss near the bow on Prada’s head, she shoved her pup into the fancy kennel in the laundry room. She’d considered letting the pup sleep with her, but then had a nightmare in which she rolled over on the dog and killed it. So kennel for Prada. She switched on the noise-canceling machine sitting on the granite counter and closed the door.