Pausing at the door, I close it behind her as her eyes wander around the house. From the floors to the vaulted ceilings and exposed old beams, she takes everything in, a smile playing on her lips, a glint in her eyes.

“Wow,” she says breathlessly, removing her jacket.

Fuck, I could say the same about her. She’s not wearing a dress but one of those romper things instead. Short shorts, cinched waist, deep-V neckline that falls past her breasts, and when she turns to hang her coat on a little peg next to the door, God help me, I spot the romper’s open back, exposing her lightly freckled skin.

There is no way I’m going to be able to be decent tonight, not with her dressed like that. Hell, I’m seconds away from pushing her up against the wall and showing her just how much I want her in my life again.

When she turns back around, she takes my hand in hers and walks toward the center of the house. “It’s so beautiful in here. How much have you renovated?”

She wants to talk renovation right now? Wearing that?

“Uh . . . what?” My eyes are glued to her breasts. There is no way in hell she’s wearing a bra, not with the way her nipples are poking out. She’s always had pert little breasts, but in this outfit, fuck, my mouth is watering just for one little taste.

She pulls my chin up, and I meet her eyes. “Hey, I’m up here.”

“Yeah, I know where you are. I’m just choosing to look elsewhere.” I pull at her hand, bringing her close to my chest, where I can easily run my hand up her bare back. Fuck, so soft, sosmooth. “This was a dangerous outfit to wear, Harper.”

“You think so? I thought it was rather conservative.” She gives me a wry smile.

“Bullshit. You knew exactly what you were doing. You want to drive me crazy, don’t you?”

“Just wanted to look nice.” She pushes away and walks along the back of the couch, her fingers trailing along the fabric. “And I’m pretty sure you knew what you were doing by not wearing socks with your jeans.”

“Bare feet don’t even come close to that romper.” I almost said bare foot but caught myself. Not right now.

She shrugs and makes her way around the main living space; I follow closely behind like a lost puppy dog.
“So tell me what you did. Is there anything original still in the house?”

“Why don’t we start in my bedroom? I can tell you all about what I did in there.”