With a groan, he crossed the room, his gaze zeroing in on the coffeepot, half the carafe still full. He poured himself a cup and turned just in time to see Julianne shuffle into the kitchen with a giant cardboard box in her arms.
Despite the chilly October weather outside, she had already worked up a sweat moving boxes. She was wearing a thin tank top and a pair of cutoff jean shorts. Her long blond hair was pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head with damp strands plastered to the back of her neck.
Heath forced down a large sip of hot coffee to keep from sputtering it everywhere. Man, she had an amazing figure. The girl he’d married had been just that—a girl. She’d been a tomboy and a bit of a late bloomer. She had still been fairly thin, a tiny pixie of a thing that he sometimes worried he might snap when he finally made love to her.
Things had certainly changed since the last time he’d run his hands over that body. He’d heard her complain to Molly about how she’d gained weight over the years, but he didn’t mind. The tight little shorts she was wearing were filled out nicely and her top left little to his imagination. His brain might not be fully awake yet, but the rest of his body was up and at ’em.
“What?”
Julianne’s voice jerked him out of his detailed assessment. He was staring and she’d caught him. Only fair after her heavy appraisal of him over the last few days. “You’re going to hurt yourself,” Heath quickly noted. He tried leaning casually against the kitchen counter to cover the tension in his body.
Her cool green gaze regarded him a moment before she dropped the box by the staircase with a loud thud and a cloud of dust. It joined a pile of four or five other equally dusty boxes. “I’m supposed to be helping you with that,” he added when she didn’t respond.
She turned back to him, rubbing her dirty palms on her round, denim-clad rear end. “I couldn’t sleep,” she said, disappearing into the storage room. A moment later she came back out with another box. “You weren’t awake.”
“I’m awake now.”
She dropped the box to the floor with the others. “Good. You can start helping anytime then.” Julianne returned to her chores.
“Good morning to you, too,” he grumbled, drinking the last of his coffee in one large sip. Heath put his mug in the sink and walked across the room to join her in the storage room.
He looked around the space, surveying the work ahead of them. Clearing out the room would be less work than figuring out what to do with all the stuff. He plucked an old, flattened basketball out of one box and smashed it between his hands. Just one of a hundred unwanted things left behind over the years. They’d probably need to run a couple loads to the dump in Ken’s truck.
“Is there a plan?” he asked.
Julianne rubbed her forearm across her brow to wipe away perspiration. “I’d like to clear the room out first. Then clean it so we can move my things in and I can return the truck. Then we can deal with the stuff we’ve taken out.”
“Fair enough.” Heath tossed the ball back into the box and picked it up.
They worked together quietly for the next hour or so. After the previous night’s declarations, he expected her to say something, but he’d underestimated Julianne’s ability to compartmentalize things. Today’s task was cleaning the storeroom, so that was her focus. She’d used the same trick to ignore their relationship for other pursuits over the years. He didn’t push the issue. They’d get a lot less cleaning done if they were arguing.
When the room was finally empty, they attacked the space with brooms and old rags, dusting away the cobwebs and sweeping up years of dust and grime. Despite their dirty chores, he couldn’t help but stop and watch Julianne every now and then. She would occasionally bend over for something, giving him a prime view of her firm thighs and round behind. The sweat dampened her shirt and he would periodically catch a glimpse as a bead of perspiration traveled down into the valley between her breasts.
He wasn’t sure if it was the hard work or the view, but it didn’t take long for Heath to get overheated. As they were cleaning the empty room, he had to whip his shirt off and toss it onto the kitchen table. He returned to working, paying no attention to what was going on until he noticed Julianne was watching him and not moving any
longer.
Heath paused and looked up at her. She had her arms crossed over her chest, suggestively pressing her small, firm breasts together. He might enjoy the view if not for the irritated expression puckering her delicate brow. “Is something wrong, Jules?”
“Do you normally run around half-naked or is all this just a show for my benefit?”
“What?” Heath looked down at his bare chest and tried to determine what was so offensive about it. “No, of course I don’t run around naked. But I’m also not usually doing hard, dirty labor. Advertising doesn’t work up much of a sweat.”
Julianne was frowning, but he could see the slight twist of amusement in her lips. He could tell she liked what she saw, even if she wouldn’t admit that to herself.
“It seems like every time I turn around, you’re not wearing a shirt.”
Heath smiled. “Is that a complaint or a pleasant observation?”
Julianne planted her hands on her hips, answering him without speaking.
“Well, to be fair, you’ve barged into my bedroom twice and caught me in various states of undress. That’s not my fault. That’s like complaining because I don’t wear clothes into the shower. You make it sound like I’ve paraded around like a Chippendales dancer or something.” Heath held out his arms, flexing his muscles and gyrating his hips for effect.
Julianne brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle as he danced. “Stop that!” she finally yelled, throwing her dust rag at him.
Heath caught it and ended his performance. “You’re just lucky I left my tear-away pants in Manhattan.”
She shook her head with a reluctant smile and turned back to what she’d been cleaning. They finished not too long after that, then piled their brooms and mops in the kitchen and went back in to look around.