CHAPTER ONE

Bobbie turned the corner of the wide wraparound porch. They didn't make houses like this anymore.

And boy, they didn't make men like that anymore either. All those beautiful muscles working and rippling as he dug a hole in the backyard. Her eyes went wide, her lashes fluttered, and her heart kicked up the beat. The lasagna, nestled against her breasts, over-heated her body.

The serial killer's naked chest gleamed in a patch of sun in the back yard. Skin bronzed and hairless--thank God, she wasn't partial to hairy chests--pectoral muscles flexed as he stamped a shovel into the ground. He worked the base with a foot encased in black leather work boots. His jeans hung low on his hips. Bobbie licked her lips, then raised her gaze to his face.

Her heart stopped. Devil-dark hair hung in his eyes. His face was all sharp angles and strong lines. His jaw tensed as he gave the shovel one more stomp before pulling back on the handle and lifting dirt. His arms bulged.

Heck, everything bulged.

Bobbie's eyes followed a trickle of sweat running down the center of his chest.

So this was what women got out of watching construction workers. If she hadn't had an arm full of lasagna, she would have fanned herself.

A door slammed next door. The serial killer looked up and over as a flurry of white fur pounded against the fence.

“Don't start with me, you little runt, or you'll be next.”

Surely he wouldn't do anything to the little dog. He wasn't really a serial killer. Was he?

No, not with a voice like that. It was pure sin. Like warm syrup running along her nerve endings, it begged to be licked off.

The dog on the other side yapped, a series of high-pitched sounds that grated like nails on a chalkboard. So much for her warm, syrupy feeling.

The serial killer threw down his shovel and reached for a small, wrapped bundle lying at the edge of the hole he'd been digging. He leaned down to set it in the...oh my God, not a hole, but a grave. And that little bundle was some poor dead animal.

She must have gasped because he looked up, right into her startled eyes. Now she knew how Jimmy Stewart must have felt in Rear Window when Raymond Burr caught Jimmy watching him dispose of his wife's body parts.

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