“Thank you,” Jon echoed.


When I turned around, I found Samantha standing with her hands clasped in front of her A-line skirt. I shoved the pot holders into her empty hands. “Thanks again.”


She jammed one hand into a skirt pocket, produced a business card. “I guess I should get going. Don’t want to keep you from your work.” She extended her arm, offering the card. “If you need help with anything, please don’t hesitate to call. I’m home all day. I can be here in a blink. Michelle and I used to—” She cut herself off. “Forgive me. Michelle was a good friend.”


“It’s okay. I understand.” I accepted the card and set it on the counter. “Thanks again. I’ll keep your offer in mind.”


“Okay, then. I can see myself out.” Samantha threw a cute little wave at Jon and hustled toward the door. I watched Jon watch her leave. When he finally glanced my way, I probably wasn’t looking too happy.


“I’m sorry about that. Samantha and my first wife were close. She had a very hard time after Michelle died. But I’d rather not talk about that right now.” He hauled me into his arms. “Michelle was my past. You are my future. And if you’re worried about Samantha, don’t be,” he said. “She’s very happily married. And I’m very happily almost-married.”


The man knew just what to say.


He also knew just what to do. He kissed me until I couldn’t breathe and I’d forgotten all about whatshername and her lasagna and her stupid cherry pot holders.


Oh yes, I was definitely feeling better now. Warm. Tingly. Happy.


“Shall we head back upstairs?” I asked, dragging my fingernails down his chest. I hadn’t seen that chest in three weeks. Long-distance dating sucked. It was so good to be done with that now.


“Yes, let’s go.” Jon tossed me over his shoulder like a caveman. I gave a little shriek of surprise, flopping over to give his cute butt a smack. He gave me one in return as he headed toward the staircase.


Then the doorbell rang again.


“Ohmygod,” I said to his back. “Are you kidding me?”


“Ignore it.”


Ding dong.


Still atop Jon’s shoulder, I wriggled. “I just want to have sex. Who would’ve thought that would be such a problem?”


“It isn’t a problem. Let’s go have sex.”


Ding dong.


“No. Set me down.”


Jon grunted.


Down I slid. On the way, I happened to notice he was sporting a somewhat obvious hard-on. I motioned to his crotch. “You might want to cover that up.”


He glanced down, looked up, and gave me a crooked grin. “Maybe it’ll chase whoever it is away so we can get back to what we were doing.” He yanked open the door, and another attractive woman stepped into my new home.


The woman either didn’t see me or didn’t care. Tall. Brunette. Slim. And also well dressed—her clothes weren’t designer, but they looked like they’d been tailored to fit her perfectly. She blurted, “Jon, I need to talk to you right now about Carson. He’s—”


“Lindsay Baker,” Jon interrupted, motioning toward me. “This is Christine. Christine’s moving in today.”


Lindsay finally realized I was standing there. “Oh! Hello.” She shook my hand. “So good to meet you. Welcome to the neighborhood.” She thumbed over her shoulder, toward the open door behind her. “I live across the street.” Looking slightly wilted, she frowned. “I’m sorry I forgot you were moving in today. Jon told me last week. He’s been very excited.” She glanced at Jon. “I’m guessing Samantha’s already been by to welcome Christine?”


“Yep,” I said. “She brought lasagna.” That was slightly bitchy of me to rub it in, I’ll admit. I’ll probably pay for it, one way or another.


Lindsay’s smile was only slightly forced. “Of course she brought lasagna. Enjoy. The woman is the best cook on the block, now that Michelle—I mean, Samantha makes everything from scratch. Me, I’m lucky if I don’t burn a frozen pizza.”


“Yeah, me too,” I admitted. Two neighbors. Two welcomes. And both had mentioned Michelle, Jon’s deceased wife. I was beginning to worry I had some insanely perfect shoes to fill.


We exchanged a smile. For some reason, regardless of her mention of Michelle, I had a feeling I might get along with this neighbor. The jury was still out on Samantha.


“Anyway, I guess I’ll head out now. I’m sure you’re both very”—Lindsay’s gaze paused on Jon’s crotch before jerking away—“busy.”


“Thanks for coming by.” Jon grabbed the doorknob, ready to close the door behind her.


“Oh!” On the porch now, Lindsay spun around to face him. She opened her mouth to say something but then shut it. “Yes.” She waved at me. “Again, welcome. If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”


“Thanks.” I waved back.


Jon shut the door. He gave me a look that made my heart flutter. “Now, let’s get back to welcoming you home—”


Ding dong.


I sighed. “We might as well forget it. It’s not happening. I didn’t know you were so popular.” We’d met on an online dating site. Jon had flown out to meet me exactly one month after we’d started chatting online. And he’d made the trip every other weekend after that, for the next five months. I mentioned, once or twice, coming out to see him instead, but he’d insisted it was better for him to do the traveling. He could write it off as a business expense. I couldn’t. And once I got over the suspicion that he was actually married and trying to keep me from finding out, I couldn’t argue with that logic. All that to say, this was the first time I’d seen him in his hometown.


“I’m not ‘popular,’ ” he said. “My neighbors are all just extremely nosy. You’re the first woman who’s been in my house since ... since Michelle died.”


While our two visitors had already mentioned his wife, today was the first time Jon had actually said her name in my presence. I saw that as a sign. “Speaking of Michelle, you promised to tell me what happened when I moved in. So I knew how to handle Josh. Here I am.”


He started to respond, but the doorbell cut him off. He lifted an index finger.


Ding dong.


He opened the door to reveal yet another attractive woman. Stepford Wife Number Three was suited up tight in Hugo Boss, her hair coiled on the back of her head. Her makeup was flawless but understated.


“I’m sorry if this is a bad time... .” The woman, who was still standing on the front porch peered in at me. “... but I saw Samantha and Lindsay—”


“No, of course it’s not a bad time.” Jon motioned her inside. “This is Christine. Christine, this is Erica Ross. She lives next door—on the other side.” He motioned toward the opposite side of our home.


“Good to meet you,” I said.


“Welcome to the neighborhood,” Erica said, shaking my hand. She produced a card. “If you need anything, feel free to call. I work quite a bit, but my husband’s home with the kids during the day. Adam’s pretty handy—unlike Jon here.” Erica and Jon exchanged a smile.


“That’s true,” Jon admitted. “I won’t even try to argue with that. Which is why I have a list of trusted contractors on file.”


Erica continued, “Michelle used to call Adam whenever she had a minor emergency. Plugged sink, that kind of thing. He doesn’t mind at all. Gives him something to do.”


“Okay. Thanks.” I put the card in my pocket.


“Thank you,” Jon echoed, looking like he might shove the woman out if she didn’t leave on her own.


“I can’t stay,” Erica said, turning toward the exit. “I’m on my way to meet a client. But I didn’t want to go without at least saying hello.”


“That was very thoughtful. Thanks.” I gave her a wave as she hurried out the door.


Jon closed and locked the door behind her. “Okay, now that’s enough of the neighbors. I don’t give a damn if the mayor rings my doorbell to give you the keys to the city. I’m not answering. We’re going to our room.” He grabbed my hand and took the stairs two at a time. “I’m going to have sex with you if it kills me.”


Kills him? I wasn’t sure how to respond to that statement.


The truth of the matter was, the moment was over. Between worrying about being interrupted again, and curiosity about the wife Jon hadn’t talked about before today, I was more interested in getting back to the discussion we’d started before Erica’s entry.


Once we were inside the bedroom, Jon, true to form, went for my neck.


I held him off with outstretched hands. “Hang on, there, Dracula. I want to talk about Michelle first. How did she die?”


CHAPTER 2


“Okay,” Jon said, sitting on the bed. What do you want toto know about my first wife?”