Cross My Heart (A Contemporary Romance Novel)

the timing had seemed too perfect to pass up.
    So here she was.
    Coming back to Iowa made the other changes in her life stand out in sharp relief. When she was living in Chicago, giving up cigarettes and a few nights out hadn’t seemed like such a big deal. But here in the town where she’d grown up, it felt like the old Jenna had slipped away when she wasn’t even looking, replaced by a woman she wasn’t sure she wanted to become.
    A woman who got up early to go running. A woman who spent her days teaching and her nights working on home improvement projects. A woman who found herself attracted to her next door neighbor, who was conventional and serious instead of wild and reckless.
    A woman who was losing her edge.
    No , she told herself, pulling on a pair of jeans and her CBGBs tee shirt. The fact that she’d made a few changes in her life didn’t mean she was losing her edge.
    She was attracted to Michael because he was hot, not because he seemed mature and responsible. And she wasn’t going to act on her feelings. She hardly ever saw him, for one thing—he seemed to work a pretty intense schedule. And she was only here for the summer. Nothing, and especially not a man, would keep her in Iowa any longer than that.
    Jenna had only two rules when it came to the opposite sex. Don’t let them change you, and don’t let them tie you down. She’d almost let a guy change her, once—before she found out the hard way that he wasn’t worth it.
    It was a mistake she had no intention of repeating.
    * * *
    Michael took one last, critical look at his dining room.
    Was it too formal? He’d set the table in here rather than in the kitchen, wanting to make a good impression on his beautiful new neighbor—who’d turned out to be even more stunning up close. Only now, remembering her paint-flecked sweatpants and tee-shirt, he felt a qualm. Maybe Jenna would prefer a more casual setting.
    But it was too late to change things now. She’d be over any minute.
    She’d be here. In his house. Thinking of that made his blood run thick and hot in his veins, a pulsing warmth that made his whole body feel…primed.
    He knew, of course, that there’d been no actual change in the temperature of his blood. He was a doctor; he knew exactly what blood was and how it functioned in the body. He also knew that what he was feeling now was a biological reaction he could trace in scientific detail, from surges in norepinephrine and dopamine to the actions of his adrenal gland and blood flow to his corpus cavernosum.
    Usually, that kind of knowledge gave him power. Logic and intellect could always control emotion and sensation. But this time, for some reason, it didn’t seem to matter that he knew exactly what was happening in his body. The effect Jenna Landry had on him was stronger than his ability to reason it into submission.
    “Dad!”
    He turned his head to see his daughter coming down the stairs. When he’d told Claire about the guest coming for dinner, she’d stared at him for almost a minute, actually speechless. Then she’d squeaked out something and dashed upstairs. Now she was back, having changed out of her blouse and into a tee-shirt with Death Cab For Cutie emblazoned on it.
    “Do I look okay?”
    That was an unexpected question. Claire had stopped caring what he thought about her appearance a long time ago.
    “Sure, sweetheart. You look great. Is that the name of a band?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, it’s a band. God, Dad, how can you be so—”
    She didn’t get a chance to finish the insult. The doorbell rang and the two of them froze briefly, looking at each other.
    They went to the door together, and he pulled it open.
    Jenna stood there on his porch smiling at them both. She wore a silk headband the same sapphire blue as her eyes, the color vibrant against her black hair. Like Claire, she was wearing a tee-shirt in honor of something he’d never heard of. CBGBs, whatever that was. The shirt looked soft and well-worn from many washings, and was somehow more flattering to her slender curves than the most elegant cocktail dress could have been.
    “Hi,” he said.
    “Hi, Michael. And you must be Claire?”
    His daughter nodded. Jenna held out a hand and Claire took it, eyes wide. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said breathlessly.
    “It’s nice to meet you, too. I hear you’re a music fan.”
    Claire nodded again. “I have all your songs,” she said in a rush, and then winced. “Wow, that sounds