She was still holding the stack as Nate began to peel off his wet shirt. When his hard, flat stomach was exposed, she just stared.
“Give me a hand, will you?” He was tangled in the wet cloth and it was stuck.
She tossed the dry clothes to the floor, then reached up and pulled. When the neckline caught on his ears, they both worked on it and finally got the shirt off. Terri handed him the towel, then stood there watching him dry off.
For a moment, their eyes met—and she could feel her face turn red. “Lunch,” she murmured and pointed to the room just off the entrance. “Kitchen.” She scurried away.
Around the corner from him, she opened the freezer door. “Pizza okay? Miranda leaves a variety in here for me. Do you have any preference?” When she closed the freezer door she could see Nate’s reflection in the shiny surface.
He had his back to her and he was peeling off his wet trousers. They landed on the mat. Then came his boxers. He stood up straight and was drying himself, lifting his legs to do his thighs.
Terri could feel herself beginning to sweat. He had a truly magnificent body! Shoulders the width of half an oar, then down to a small waist. The curve of his behind was tight and high, topping thighs that were like tree trunks.
When he started to turn in her direction, she nearly leaped toward the sink.
“Just so the food has flavor,” Nate said as he pulled on the dry clothes. “Why does someone leave food for you here when you live just a few feet away?” Nate was standing behind her. “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”
“Just got cold from the rain, I guess.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward the living room. “Go sit down and I’ll stick a pizza or two in the oven. What about wine?”
“Can’t. I have to work later.”
Nate nodded toward the windows. “This isn’t going to stop anytime soon. Let’s have lunch and you can tell me all about this place.”
“Love to,” she said as she sat down on a white chair. She didn’t dare put her shoes on the ottoman for fear of getting it dirty. She could hear him in the kitchen. “The Kissels—”
“No,” Nate said. “I want to know about you and the present. It was good to finally meet your dad.”
Terri laughed. “He loves you. Really. He asked me how much you’d charge to work here full-time. He and Uncle Frank—”
“And he is?”
“The sheriff. Remember I told you that Dad first came to Summer Hill to visit an army buddy?”
“And they were going into business together.” Nate handed her a glass of cold white wine. “There’s red if you want it.”
Terri hesitated, but she took it. “This is good, thanks.” She was watching Nate as he looked from one white piece of furniture to another.
“I’m afraid to sit down.”
“You have Greg’s clothes on, so I think you’re safe.”
“Good point.” He sat on the couch, but didn’t lean back and he kept his drink on the all-glass coffee table. “Is the sheriff the buddy?”
“No. That was Jake.” Her voice lowered. “He and Dad were great partners and worked well together. We were all shocked when he suddenly died just as I graduated from college.”
“Ah.” Nate seemed to be searching her eyes. “What plans of your own did his death force you to give up?”
Terri shook her head in wonder at his keen perception. “All of it. Everything. I was going to go through Europe with some girlfriends. Europe on two cents a day, that sort of thing. We were going to have wild affairs and...” She shrugged. “Dad needed me, so I returned. What about you? How’d you get involved with Kit?”
Nate ignored her subject-changing question. “How’s the sheriff connected to your dad’s partner?”
“Frank Cannon was Uncle Jake’s bad boy little brother. He was always getting into trouble. When I was a kid I thought Uncle Frank was wonderfully exciting. But Dad and Uncle Jake were always threatening to murder him if he didn’t straighten up. Finally, Uncle Jake said that since Frank knew so much about criminals, he should try to catch them. For once Uncle Frank listened and now he’s the sheriff of Summer Hill.”
“How did he—”
“Oh no, you don’t. It’s your turn. Tell me about your years with Kit Montgomery.”