Free Two Weeks in August by Nat Burns Page A

move in and my crates arrive from storage.”
    She bestowed a teasing grin on Hazy. “If you don’t already have it, that is. It could be hiding in there and you’d never know it.”
    Hazy smiled as she moved into the bathroom and called out, “No way. I know each of my books personally.”
    Nina believed it, for some odd reason. Again she delighted in the way Hazy said the word personally . It was enchanting. She leaned one shoulder against the bathroom door facing, wishing she’d thought to pick up her wet washcloth from the floor lest Hazy think her a slob.
    She needn’t have worried. When her bare foot encountered it, Hazy absently retrieved it and draped it across the metal loop inside the enclosure. She bent to peer closely at the knob, all the while dodging the water flow.
    “I think I’ll need the pliers,” Hazy muttered. Nina dug into the toolbox, her hands clumsy and fumbling.
    The special scent of Hazy filled the small bathroom, the smell of sweet ocean foam, spicy and compelling. It suddenly overwhelmed her senses.
    It spread over her rapidly. She glanced at Hazy briefly. Did she feel it too? She was waiting for the pliers, head down, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, ignoring the cold water that was dampening the hem of her shorts and her legs.
    Nina held the pliers clenched in her hand, reluctant to get close enough to hand them to Hazy.
    “Here,” she said, the word choking her. She held out the pliers.
    And then Hazy looked at her. Nina felt the impact down to her toes. The fire in the woman’s bright blue gaze jolted her body into new awareness. Wordlessly, Hazy dropped her gaze and plucked the tool from Nina’s nerveless fingers.
    The tension in the tiny room continued to swell and Nina felt as though her blood was boiling within her body. Her heart was sluggish; it didn’t seem to want the trouble of beating. Afraid she would begin gasping for air, she mumbled an excuse and fled the bathroom.
    In the bedroom she sat on the end of the bed and sank her teeth into the fleshy part of her thumb. What had happened in there? One moment they were talking normally, the next… Tension; very different from their normal animosity. She had felt compelled to touch Hazy, had wanted to feel her hair, to feel her skin beneath her palms. She had, God forbid, wanted to wrap her body around that sleek muscled form.
    Perhaps she was overreacting. Perhaps it was just the close proximity and the budding feeling of kinship. After all, this was the first time they’d been civil to one another for any length of time.
    What about those eyes? They had seared through her. There was a message there, a message of passion waiting. Waiting for her. She held her breath as she relived the passionate jolt she’d felt when Hazy looked at her.
    Just outside the bedroom door, Hazy cleared her throat.
    Heart leaping, Nina jumped up, trying to pretend nothing had happened. She knew her color had to be high.
      “That’s that then. The knob I put on doesn’t match but don’t let it worry you. Old one’s stripped finally so I’ll just order a new one from Harper’s over on the shore. It’ll be here in a few days. I’ll check back then, all right?”
      “Yes,” Nina stammered, hazarding a glance at Hazy. “Yes, that’ll be great. Thanks for coming out so late to help.”
      “No sense letting the pump run all night. Wouldn’t do anybody any good now, would it?” Hazy’s eyes were still warmed by passion but the words chilled.
    She moved quickly out the door, letting the screen door slap shut behind her.

    Hazy fairly flew across the drive. She dropped the tool-box outside the office and paused to look back at cottage number eight. She could see Nina framed in the bedroom window slowly brushing her long hair. How could one woman be so beautiful and so bloody sweet ? Beautiful women were always cold, always stuck on themselves, believing they were better than lesser mortals. Hazy didn’t sense any of that in