Howling at the Moon: The Complete Series Read Free Page A

super-hot landlord’s house? I sifted through my wardrobe, but nothing looked appropriate to wear. I damn sure couldn’t go up there with my body fresh out of the shower, my skin damp and a towel wrapped around me—or could I? I laughed at the thought as I went through the clothes strewn across my bed. Everything that was unpacked was either too tight or too hot.
    I probably tried on a dozen different outfits, but nothing seemed to look right. After getting frustrated with my wardrobe choices, I opted for something that was too tight, grabbing a thin, buttoned shirt with blue jean shorts. I felt like a real country girl with those dark denim shorts on. All that was missing were a pair of cowboy boots. I didn’t own any, so I wore flip flops and twisted my hair into a bun.
    I didn’t want to look too sexy or desperate around Warren. He was, after all, my landlord, and I needed to maintain some sort of decency. I wished I had a different shirt; one that wasn’t so tight and squeezing on my double Ds like a python to a mouse.
    Whoever said Missouri didn’t get humid was a liar. I wasn’t that far removed from the shower, but my skin was now on fire once again, as if there was a personal heater inside me. Maybe it was my anticipation of being in Warren’s presence, but I needed to calm myself down. I reprimanded my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
    “Jaime, this is stupid. You will not have sex with Warren. You will keep this a business relationship. You are here for another purpose, and having sex is not it.” I was stern and convincing, trying to keep myself in line. Getting wrapped up into another relationship would only muddle things.
    Since leaving my ex, I had sworn off sex entirely. I wouldn’t be engaging in it again until I was married, and some other demands that I couldn’t recall at the moment. I actually wrote them down in a journal like a personal commandment list. After I made that list, it seemed like my life turned upside down, and although sex was usually the one thing that calmed me, I no longer had that as a comfort. Moving here was part of my celibacy journey, I wouldn’t have to be around anyone that would tempt me.
    “Damn you for being so sexy,” I cursed, thinking of Warren as I grabbed my house keys and purse, then set off to handle the business of the lease.
    Walking up the hill to Warren’s house with the sun dipping down through the trees, I could already feel the serenity of the country. No more smoke and pollution clogging up my senses. No more cell phones ringing with text messages to interrupt me.
    I looked around, studying the area as I walked, but maybe I was still paranoid from driving such a long way on my own. As weird as it was, I still felt like someone was watching me.
    I dismissed the feelings as I made it to Warren’s house. Ringing his doorbell, I took a deep breath. Please be good, Jaime, my conscience told me, but I didn’t respond. I could make no promises.

****
    W arren’s house was rustic, the epitome of a country man’s bachelor pad. The house was equipped with all the fixings, from deer antlers hanging over his fireplace to mismatched furniture pieces in the living room. The couch was a flannel red while an oversized chair across from it was a deep brown leather. I shrugged it off as he offered me a seat.
    I wasn’t an interior designer, and I was going to make this my first and last time in his home. I gave him a pass on his decorating style since he didn’t get very many visitors, and men never cared about decorating as much as we women did.
    “Make yourself at home. Dinner will be served in a few minutes.” He was all smiles, which was both comforting and strange. I guess that was his country hospitality, but I wasn’t used to sexy guys being this nice to me unless they wanted something.
    Tonight, Warren was in a different shirt. A plain grey t-shirt, jeans, and those same scuffed-up work boots. He wasn’t a pretty boy like some of the guys in the