He approached the kitchen as he would a loaded minefield. Fifteen years of marriage with Pam had taught him he had the unerring knack for stepping right on those land mines. Give him a plane to fly, a nation to feed and he was fine. Circumventing the female psyche in a snit, however, stumped him.
Standing at the kitchen counter, Julia spooned barbecue onto a bun, her drawstring pajama pants dipping to reveal an ivory patch of stomach. Her tank T-shirt outlined perfect breasts, small and high.
And unrestrained by a bra.
A land mine might make a welcome distraction.
She returned the plastic container of barbecue to the fridge, bumping the door closed with her hip. The door closed, the thump echoing in the silent house.
Silent house?
Hey, wait. He'd been so focused on Julia's pale face earlier he hadn't really listened to her words. The kids were all gone or asleep.
He was alone. In the house. With Julia.
Hell and damnation.
Head pounding, Zach stalked into the kitchen. He jerked open the refrigerator and pulled out a beer bottle. He needed one. Or four.
He twisted the top. "So the house is empty until tomorrow."
"Pretty much." She passed him his sandwich like Eve handing over the forbidden fruit.
One bite and he would be toast. "On second thought, I think I'll save that for later. I'm going to unwind on the back porch."
He grabbed his leather jacket from the coat tree and bolted through the door to the screened-in porch. Dropping onto the glider, he tipped his beer back and gazed at the night sky through the long neck. Like that could help him escape her. Julia filled his whole damned life.
She'd even made the glider for him for Christmas with the girls' help. Why Shelby had opted for purple paint, he would never know. But of course Julia, being Julia, cared more about making his girls smile than clashing colors.
He knocked back another swallow, the yeasty glide down his throat doing little to mellow his need to get the hell out. The gold band weighed heavy on his finger. He needed space.
Now.
Julia bumped the door open with her bottom, two more beers in her hands. "Hope you don't mind if I join you."
"Nope." Liar.
The gentle sway of her h*ps nudged those pajama pants perilously low. The thin T-shirt provided pathetic little barrier against the night chill.
It was cold and her body knew it.
Zach knocked back the last swig of his beer and studied...a tree. Yeah, that tree needed trimming. He would take care of it this weekend, along with a hundred other things he would add to his to-do list until he worked himself into a dead sleep.
Julia passed him another beer and sat beside him. Not that she ever actually sat like other people. She wouldn't think twice about dropping to the floor. Or perching cross-legged in a chair. Or in this case sitting sideways, hugging her knees.
She wriggled her toes in the wooly socks. "My feet are cold. Do you mind?"
Mind what? "Sure. Whatever."
"Thanks." Julia slid her feet forward.
Tucking them under his thigh.
Those toes weren't cold at all. Heat seared straight from the back of his leg to a throbbing ache higher up. Didn't the woman have a clue how she was torturing him?
He studied her through narrowed eyes. "Julia?"
She smiled. "Much better. Thanks."