The Perfect Wife

“Sure. Thanks.” He watched as she puttered around in a pair of tight jeans. Funny, but he’d never expected to see her in denim. She’d always come across as the linen-and-pearls type.

She’d also filled out some. In his opinion, she’d been too skinny before. But now?

Dang. She ought to wear jeans more often.

Moments later, Bo was seated on one of the pewter barstools that overlooked the kitchen work space, and Carly took the stool next to his.

She wasn’t wearing much makeup today, which he found refreshing for a change. And revealing.

He hadn’t noticed the light scattering of freckles on her nose before. And quite frankly, they lent a girl-next-door appeal.

Her scent, something fresh and feminine, mingled with his aftershave and the coffee-and-spice aromas that could rival any bakery on a Saturday morning.

“I didn’t expect to be fed,” he admitted.

She tossed him a playful smile. “Consider it a bribe so that you’ll give me a better price on that bookshelf.”

He chuckled. “If all my clients went to this much trouble, I’d be cutting deals and struggling to make ends meet.”

They chatted for a while about a lot of inconsequential things, like the weather and how well the South Rosewood Razorbacks were doing this year.

“My family is big on Little League,” he admitted, “even though my youngest brother is now in college.”

“Do you have nieces and nephews who play?”

“Nope. Not yet.”

Carly placed an elbow on the black Corian countertop and studied him as if he were a novelty of some kind. “Then why the interest in Little League? I’d think men like you would be into professional sports.”