Free Baby, Come Home by Stephanie Bond

collar.
    She pouted. “Do you have time to at least hang my picture? You left your hammer here.” Then she bit into her lip. “That is, if your thumb doesn’t hurt too much.”
    She turned his hand over in hers and traced her long, manicured fingers over his big bandaged thumb. Kendall couldn’t help but compare her pretty, feminine hands to Amy’s natural, neat nails, hands that were suited to the demands of a jobsite.
    “It’s kind of late to be pounding nails,” he protested.
    “Okay,” she said with a flirtatious smile, now leaning into him. “You can come back tomorrow.”
    And go through this again? “I guess driving in one little nail wouldn’t make that much noise,” he said.
    He sidestepped her and moved toward the dresser where he’d left his hammer earlier today. He understood forgetting about his laptop, but wow, he must’ve really been distracted to leave behind a favorite tool.
    He lifted the framed photograph of Evermore Bridge and set his jaw against the memories that assailed him. With Amy’s face so fresh in his mind, it was impossible not to be affected when he looked at the place they’d once rendezvoused and had made their own.
    At least in his mind. It was apparent by Amy’s detachment to the project that she didn’t share his fond recollections. He supposed the man who’d given her the pretty ring she’d worn at dinner had replaced all those memories with new ones.
    Kendall steered his mind back to the matter at hand lest he smash another finger. They went through the harangue again about making sure the picture was in the right spot before he passed the picture to Rachel and held the nail up to the spot in the drywall he’d marked with his finger. Her perfume had enveloped him, and her seductive voice had set his nerves on edge. He quickly tapped in the slim nail of the picture hanger, then reached for the framed photo. He pulled out the slender wire and hung it carefully on the hook, then adjusted it until it was level, and stepped back to look at it.
    “How’s that?”
    “It looks great,” she gushed. “Thank you, Kendall.” Then before he knew what was happening, she raised on her tiptoes and kissed him on the mouth. And lingered.
    Her lips were smooth and tasty—like plump cherries. And Lord, when had he last had a woman’s mouth on his? He gave in to the sheer pleasure of it. It was only a thank-you kiss, after all.
    A loud crash interrupted the amiable exchange. Rachel gasped and gripped his arm in alarm. Kendall jerked his head around. The picture hanger had come out of the drywall, leaving an ugly gash and sending the framed photo crashing to the dresser with enough force to crack the glass. An ugly web of lines obscured the photo underneath.
    “Oh, no!” Rachel cried, hurrying over to pick up the picture.
    Kendall winced. “Sorry. Guess I should’ve looked for a stud to nail into. I’ll have it reframed, and I’ll fix your wall.”
    She made a rueful noise. “You don’t have to do that.”
    Guilt stabbed him. She could sense he didn’t want to be here. “I insist,” he said, taking the picture from her. “I’ll come back soon to patch your wall, and I’ll bring the photo when it’s ready to rehang.”
    She dimpled. “Okay. If you insist.”
    Kendall cleared his throat and gestured to his laptop bag sitting next to her bed, as if it wanted to be there. “I should be going.”
    “Okay,” she said, her tone reluctant.
    He was relieved to fill his hands with the bag, hammer and the framed picture. She opened the door and ushered him out with a fragrant breeze and a sexy smile. “See you soon?” she asked, looking at him through a fringe of lashes.
    “Right,” he said, then nodded curtly and turned on his heel. He was in a flop sweat—the woman packed a powerful punch. At the top of the stairs landing, he stopped to put the belabored hammer in his computer bag, then looked down the opposite hallway. He’d pulled up the online directory Marcus