Chapter 22

Mark was standing at the grill, checking the potatoes, when she unlatched the gate in the fence and walked into his yard. His mouth immediately went dry and his cock did its best to push its way through his fly. She was definitely a walking wet dream.

White shorts - and they were definitely short - hugged her hips, the cuffs kissing her thighs. A sleeveless top of some soft material draped easily over her breasts and cut just low enough to let the upper swell peek over the neckline. The color was almost the same shade as the violet of her eyes. Her sun-streaked brown hair fell in loose waves to her shoulders, swinging freely with each step she took.

But no pink bag. Damn! Maybe she thought it was too soon.

Too soon? Like he was planning on seeing a lot more of her?

Damn straight.