Love Me Sweet (A Bell Harbor Novel) by Tracy Brogan Page A

there was an app to explain to her what to do with it, because it was getting darker by the minute.
    She opened the door to the dank, cobweb-filled basement, but before her slipper-clad foot hit the first step, the muffler of her decrepit car rumbled outside the kitchen window and relief was like a warm blanket tossed around her shoulders. Grant was back. Feminism notwithstanding, she was clueless when it came to home maintenance, and sending him down into the basement seemed like a much better idea than going down there herself.
    She was waiting in the kitchen in the dim light when he stepped inside, and she nearly yelped in surprise. Because the Grant Connelly who walked into her kitchen just then was not the same one who’d left earlier that day. His hair was cut short, very short, and the beard, the Scruffy McScruff rattiness that had been the one thing tempering her temptation, was gone. Completely gone.
    What remained was one fine, fine-looking man.

Chapter 6

    “HI,” HE SAID, STOPPING SHORT when he saw her.
    Probably because she was standing right in his way, mouth gaping.
    It’s not as if she’d never seen a good-looking man before. Of course she had. Beautiful men were everywhere in Beverly Hills, but who would’ve thought such a remarkable specimen had lurked beneath Grant Connelly’s junglemania facial fur?
    “You cut your hair.”
    Grant smiled and Delaney felt her lashes batting in Pavlovian response. There were dimples. Faint ones, but dimples just the same.
    “Yes, I did. My brother said I looked like a homeless crackhead. I think it was his way of saying he missed me.”
    Delaney giggled spontaneously and pressed a thumb to her lip.
    He stared at her for a second, then held up both arms. Bags dangled from each. “I bought clothes too, because apparently what I was wearing wasn’t acceptable enough to impress his fiancée either.” He stepped around her and put the bags on the kitchen table. He reached over and flipped the light switch. Nothing.
    “I think I must’ve blown a fuse or something. The light’s out in my bedroom too,” Delaney said.
    He shook his head. “It’s probably not a fuse. Power is out all over town because of this storm. I’ll check, though.”
    He was down the stairs and back up before Delaney had sufficient time to snoop in those bags. She’d seen enough to know that one was a suit, though. A charcoal-gray suit. It was probably for the wedding, and he’d probably look pretty good in it, even though the quality wasn’t particularly great. And she should probably stop thinking about how he’d look wearing it, because that was making her just as flustered as she’d been when catching him in the buff in the shower.
    He came back into the kitchen. “Yep, power’s out. No telling when it’ll go back on. Could be a cold night so I guess I’ll start a fire.”
    “A fire? Have you got wood?”
    A curve played at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, yeah. I got wood.”
    The door slammed before she realized what she’d said.
    Two trips outside, an old newspaper, and some matches was all it took before the fireplace crackled with flames, and Delaney realized having a rugged outdoorsman as a housemate might be the first lucky break she’d had in a long time. He’d found a couple of lanterns and a few candles in the basement, and now the living room glowed with light and warmth—and hormones bubbling just under the surface, like maple syrup waiting to be tapped.
    “Did you have dinner before the power went out?” he asked as Delaney wrapped a blanket around her legs and sat down on the sofa.
    “No, did you?”
    “Nope. But I’ll trade you a beer for a peanut butter sandwich.”
    “Done.”
    Just a little friendly barter. Nothing sexual about that.
    Two beers and two sandwiches later, she reconsidered. Grant was chatty, and relaxed, funny, and charming as he talked about his travel adventures. He was melting her determination to keep things strictly platonic, and