“Clean up your mess when you’re done. I’m going to go introduce myself to the new neighbors.”
*
Weekends were a rare opportunity to catch Sarge out of his uniform. He needed the aura of authority it gave him. Lingering stares that conveyed both respect and intimidation. It made it easier to pretend he wasn’t losing his fucking mind. However, he deemed it best to make his first encounter with the new neighbors a friendly one. There was no need to intimidate anyone—yet.
“Just a minute!” a female voice sounded.
Sarge tried to peer through the sidelight window, but all he could see were a few boxes and some tied up black trash bags. The door flung open giving way to a woman. A woman who did not belong in Peaceful Woods. She couldn’t have been more than a buck fifteen in weight and maybe five-two with arms and legs wrapped in muscle and taut tan skin. Her long blond hair hung in messy strands over her chest, not completely concealing the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra under her tight T-shirt and frayed denim shorts that would violate most public school dress codes.
“Are you more of the welcome wagon?” She smiled, but not just any smile. Sarge knew her type. He was certain she was used to men frolicking around in her presence—men with a fraction of Sarge’s discipline and devoid of all dignity.
“No. I don’t bake,” he deadpanned.
Her grin crept its way up to her golden eyes. She looked humored by his comment; little did she know, Sarge was born without a funny bone. He too was used to women frolicking around him, but it pissed him off that his married neighbor was so blatant with her eyes all over him.
“Neither do I. Beer?”
Sarge glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes past noon. “If I say no thank you, are you going to give me the ‘It’s five o’clock somewhere’ line?”
She turned on her heel with a chuckle. “No.”
He followed her inside, weaving his way through the maze of boxes. “Still unpacking?”
“Nope, just the opposite. We bought the place unseen and furnished. We won’t be making that mistake again. Everything in those boxes and bags is too nauseating to keep.” She handed him a beer.
“No, thank you.”
The petulant woman with seductive curves and a wicked smile shoved it into his chest until he wrapped his hand around its cool neck. “It’s five o’clock somewhere.” She hopped up on the counter.
His eyes narrowed.
“Your line, not mine.” Jillian winked then took a long pull of her beer.
Showing no humor or interest, he set the beer down on the counter. She glanced at it with a frown.
“I just came over to introduce myself. I’m AJ Monaghan. I live in the unit next to yours.”
“Mmm …” she swallowed “…yes, the uh … GI Joe guy. Greta speaks highly of you. In fact, I think you were her neighborhood crush until Jackson caused her fragile heart to go all a flutter.”
She chugged down the rest of the beer. AJ had never seen a woman drink quite like that. “Rumor has it you have the best abs in the neighborhood. Mine aren’t too shabby either. Want to compare?”
“Excuse me?” He shot her a piercing glare. Her uncensored personality was three times the size of her body.
Jillian’s eyes danced with mischief. “Maybe some other time, then. Jackson’s out in the garage cleaning up his Woody. I’ll have to introduce you two.”
AJ wasn’t going to touch the “woody” comment. “I’m a Senior Master Sergeant, not a ‘GI Joe guy.’”
She grabbed AJ’s beer and gulped half of it down, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Good for you. I’d hate to invite you to my wedding. It would be a real bitch trying to fit all that in calligraphy on a five-by-seven envelope. So what’s AJ stand for?”
He tipped his chin up. “How long’s he been hitting you?”
The not so innocent victim touched the mottled skin around her eye, then feathered her fingers down to the small cut on her lip. A devilish grin appeared. “As long as I’ve been hitting him.” She hopped off the counter, landing so close to AJ her chest almost touched his stomach.
AJ retreated until his back pressed flush against the refrigerator. She moved with him like a slow dance. Her lips grazed his shirt at his sternum. The pint-sized man-eater inhaled a slow breath as if he were going to be her lunch. Then she met his gaze, peering at him through long lashes.
“Why? Are you going to save me from the Big Bad Wolf?” she whispered then let her tongue make a lazy drag across her bottom lip.
He’d always imagined the devil being taller. AJ didn’t care that she most likely felt his erection against her stomach. It wasn’t much of a compliment to her. Guys could get erections from tampon commercials; it was simple anatomy.