Valentine Next Door (2 page)

Mrs Valentine had taught him the most important lesson of his life. If someone stayed quiet and still long enough, he would see the most glorious sights. It was a skill he used every day in his career. His editor was always amazed by how Jeremey managed to get the best shots, even from his first days on the job. Jeremy didn’t care if he had to wait in a mud puddle for three days to get the perfect photo of a sunset over a pack of sleeping lions, he’d do it. It was a skill that had rewarded him well, making him a highly paid nature photographer in record time. For that, he had Mrs Valentine to thank.

She wrapped her hands around her neck, finding the clasp to her necklace and pulling the delicate chain away from her throat. The small diamond rose from the valley of her cleavage. He’d kill to be that necklace, warm from her skin, tucked between her gorgeous breasts.

Stepping forward, she bent over to place the necklace on her dresser, showing off the smooth expanse of her back and the curve of her spine. What he wouldn’t give to be able to explore each one of her vertebrae while she was leaning like that. First he’d run his fingers down the scale, then kiss each one, and finally lick that delectable path up and down until she shivered and moaned for more. Then he’d press into her from behind and give her everything she needed, everything they wanted.

She pulled open the top dresser drawer and removed a pair of light pink shorts and a matching tank. Stepping into the shorts, she then tugged the fabric on over her round, bitable ass. The thin sweat material clung to her curves, detailing every inch of her body. Jeremy bit his tongue, the coppery taste of blood tainting his taste buds, as she dragged on the just-as-thin-and-tight tank top.

The tops of her breasts peeked out over the low neckline. His mouth watered. All he could think of was running his tongue along that valley until she cried out his name. God, he’d do anything for her, anything to make her happy. She needed more happiness in her life.

“Damn, I wish I was there to see her too.” Brett’s voice interrupted his fantasy, yanking him back to reality.

Jeremy swallowed hard. An irrational jealousy and possessiveness billowed up inside him. When he was a teenager, he’d let some of the other boys come over to look into the Valentines’ bedroom, but always when he knew the Valentines wouldn’t be home. He couldn’t stomach the idea of his friends staring at Mrs Valentine.

Even though they’d wanted to do the same thing he was doing now, it felt different. His friends had always spoken crassly about her, talking of what they wanted to do to her, or themselves, as they watched her.

He cherished Mrs Valentine. He worshiped her. He wanted to give her pleasure, make her smile, hold her when she cried, be there to support her during the long hours her husband had left her alone. Her beauty was only the tip of the iceberg. There was so much more to her that the other boys never saw.

Next door, she pulled the barrette from her hair. Mrs Valentine shook her head. Her shiny dark curls twirled around her heart-shaped face, then fell to just below her shoulders. The waves framed her round cheeks, her blue eyes all the more stunning in contrast. He’d love to run his fingers through her hair. To discover how soft and springy it was beneath his touch.

She smiled at herself in the mirror, just a small, slight curve of her lips as she checked herself out in the glass, but the gesture was so genuine, so sweet, it set his heart pumping. His dick hardened to an iron rod.

“I need to get out of here,” he grumbled into his cell. He gripped the phone so tightly the plastic creaked in his hand.

“Dude, hang tight. I’ll come by this weekend. I’ll get you out for a bit.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Jeremy’s gaze remained on the window next door where his exquisite neighbor had stood in all her glory. His cock ached, desperate for her touch.

It was going to be a long few days till Brett could visit and distract him. But at least he had visions of Mrs Valentine to keep him company until then.

Chapter Two

The next day, Miranda dropped her purse on the entryway table, slipping her pumps off beside the console. It was Friday, finally. All she wanted was to change into her sweats and lounge around the house for the rest of the night. But she had to run over to the Callahans’ first.

After all they’d done for her during her husband Leo’s illness and since his death, the least she could do was bring over her famous mocha fudge Bundt cake and offer to help in any way she could. She knew how difficult it could be to take care of a sick family member. Cindy Callahan had been so understanding and supportive throughout Leo’s entire bout with lymphoma and the months afterward, coming to check on her, dropping off food and helping her with thank-you notes. There was nothing she wouldn’t do to pay them back. True, Jeremy’s injury wasn’t life-threatening, but still, a little extra chocolate never hurt anyone’s ails.

She walked into the kitchen, grabbed the Tupperware container filled with more chocolate calories than she’d consumed in three years, then headed next door. The neighborhood was quiet this time of night, the streets almost empty. Everyone must be at home eating dinner together. The cul-de-sac was comprised mostly of families. Any other hour than dinnertime, the streets were filled with kids riding bikes, playing hockey or skipping rope. It was why she and Leo had purchased a house in this community. They’d thought it was a great place to raise their children. Unfortunately, those dreams hadn’t materialized.

She hastily climbed the porch steps then balanced the cake in one hand while pushing the doorbell with her left index finger. If she was lucky, the Callahans would be in the middle of dinner and she could just drop off the cake and head back home. She was already looking forward to settling down in front of the television to watch the latest romantic comedy Netflix had sent her, something about finding love in the wilds of Africa. That and the carton of ice cream that wouldn’t be taking up space in her freezer for much longer.

The door slid open and one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen stood in the doorway. His dark hair was cut short. His chocolate-colored eyes focused on her and she swallowed. He looked at her with such intensity her skin tingled. His red T-shirt clung to a chiseled chest, and a pair of dark sweats bunched up around the cast molded to his right leg.

“Jeremy?” This couldn’t be little Jeremy Callahan standing before her. The man holding the door open was very different from the boy who had left home.

But he has to be. How many men could the Callahans have wandering around their house with a broken leg?

He smiled at her with the same boyish grin he’d given her that first morning she and Leo had moved into the neighborhood. She still remembered him in his driveway playing basketball with one of his buddies a few weeks before his first days of high school.

Jeremy had always been tall, but as a kid he’d been skinny and lanky. He’d definitely grown into his height. His chest was now broad and solid. His biceps flexed as he released the doorknob and crossed his arms over his chest. Even his waist was thick with muscle, the kind that would be defined beneath that red T-shirt.

“Hi, Mrs Valentine.”

She cleared her throat, gripping the cake container a little tighter in her sweaty hands. “Please, Jeremy. You’re not in school anymore. You don’t have to call me Mrs Valentine. Miranda is fine.”

“Okay. Hi, Miranda.”

She liked the sound of her name on his lips. It took her a second to realize she’d never heard him say it before. He’d always been a very polite boy, always respectful. But she was starting to like the man
a lot
better.

“Well, I…uh, made this for you and your folks. Just a little I-hope-you-feel-better cake.” She handed the dessert to Jeremy, forcing herself to stop rambling.

He grabbed the Tupperware container with quick hands that looked much bigger than they used to.

“Thank you.” He glanced down at the Bundt cake. “Is this mocha fudge?”

She nodded.

“Good. I always loved that cake.” He leaned forward a little, as though to tell her a secret, his mouth moving toward hers.

His woodsy, masculine smell wafted to her across the space between them. His heat and strong presence calling to her like a moth to a flame.

“I’ve always had quite a sweet tooth.” He grinned at her.

Miranda’s mind flashed to what else he could do with those teeth. Those lips. That mouth.

“I hope you enjoy it.” She shook her head, attempting to refocus her thoughts to the task at hand instead of the inappropriate direction they’d been wandering. “If you need anything else—”

“I could use a break from this place,” he interjected with a nod toward the living room behind him. “My mom means well, but it would be great to have some time away from my third grade baseball trophy and talking about all my old friends who have moved away.”

Miranda paused, unsure what to do. It seemed rude to tell him no, but it had been a long time since she’d had a man in her house, alone. And Jeremy was
definitely
a man now. Though she doubted the rest of the neighborhood would see it that way. “I don’t…”

“Please?” He looked down at her, his warm eyes begging for his escape.

She swallowed beneath his stare. Her throat tightened and her mouth dried up like a desert. No woman could say no to those puppy dog eyes, least of all her.

“You’d be doing me the biggest favor,” he urged. “I’d owe you.”

Her heart sped up a bit at his suggestion. Visions formed before her eyes of how she could use that favor. Visions that were far from neighborly and not at all how she should think about little Jeremy next door.

“Okay,” was all she could think of to say.

Miranda concentrated on breathing low, and even during the short trip from the Callahans’, she continuingly shifted her gaze to Jeremy, still amazed by the changes she saw in him. And the way those changes affected her! Her palms were covered with sweat and her stomach fluttered just at the sight of him.
What is wrong with me?

They walked without speaking, the only sound between them the thump of Jeremy’s plaster cast against the concrete sidewalk as he hobbled up her front steps. Even with his injury, his stride was graceful and controlled, his thick, long legs moving with power beneath him. She took a deep breath, the cool night feeling a touch too warm. Her fingers shook as she pushed her key into the lock. The door banged against the frame as she threw it open harder than she’d intended, her hands shaking with nervous energy.

“Do you want something to eat?” She motioned toward the kitchen as she crossed the threshold and held the door open for Jeremy to enter before sliding it shut behind them.

Jeremy strode toward the couch. His cast wacked across the maple floors with each step. He leaned on the sofa arm, resting his weight against the plushy cranberry pillows. “No, thanks. With all the meatloaf and casseroles my mother has been feeding me, I’m getting a gut.”

He patted his stomach where the phantom fat sat, and Miranda’s gaze dropped down to the area. She didn’t see any gut beneath his T-shirt. In fact, his stomach looked flat and hard through the cotton, perfect for her fingers—or nails.

She slid her hand down the side of her skirt, her palm still sweaty.
How can I be having these thoughts about Jeremy from next door? He is just a kid. A whole decade stands between us.

“But I wouldn’t mind some wine. Alcohol seems to be missing from my mother’s nursing regimen.”

Miranda smiled. “
That
I can do.” She dashed to the kitchen. Raising up on her toes, she selected two glasses out of the nearby cabinet. “Is merlot, okay?” she called into the other room as she turned several of the bottles in the wine rack to see what other kinds she had. She hadn’t opened one of these bottles since before Leo’s diagnosis. Alcohol had interfered with his meds.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” he hollered back. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Miranda pulled the closest bottle down. “No, I’ve got it.” She opened the lower drawer and retrieved a corkscrew. Holding the glasses and corkscrew in one hand and the bottle in the other, she headed back to the living room.

“If you want, you can open the bottle,” she offered, extending him the wine and corkscrew. Leo had always told her she was useless with these kinds of things. She had a tendency to break the cork halfway out. It was one of the many reasons she hadn’t opened a bottle since Leo’s death. That, and she’d had no good reason to drink. Sitting home alone most nights was not the right time to open a bottle of wine.

“Sure.” He smiled, leaning up and taking the items from her. “It’s nice to be useful. Even with this.” He knocked on his leg. The loud thump of a fist on plaster filled the room.

Miranda sat on the opposite end of the couch, waiting patiently while he jabbed the curled metal into the cork and started to twist it out, even as it made her twitchy and achy. A sudden throbbing bloomed between her legs at the twirl of the device in his hand, the triumphant way he finally pulled the cork from the long, thin neck. She clamped her thighs together, hoping to stem the sensation before it traveled any further.

“That’s probably been the hardest part of being injured. Having to ask for help.” He poured the deep red wine into one of the glasses. When the goblet was half full, he switched to the other, not allowing a drop to fall. “I guess I’m not very good at it.” Once both glasses were filled to midpoint, he handed her one and placed the bottle on the table.

She took a sip of the dry merlot. “Just like every other man.” She hid her smirk behind her glass, but judging from Jeremy’s returned smile, he didn’t mind the slight dig.

“I guess that’s true.” He drank some of his wine, his hand wrapped around the stem with a firm touch.

What else could he do with those hands? How strong or how soft might his grip be?

“How did you get hurt anyway?” Best to keep focused on something besides Jeremy’s mouth pursed against the glass.

He looked down at the cast over his leg. “Do you promise not to laugh at me?”