For the First Time (One Strike Away #$)

by Mary J. Williams

  "Hey, gorgeous," he said, a sexy timbre to his voice Jordyn didn't recall from the pub.

  So much for loyalty, Jordyn thought as the puppy practically jumped into Murphy's arms, her tongue swiping at his chin as if the man were USDA Prime beef. Or sisterhood in the face of adversity.

  "I was the one who carried you over hill and dale," Jordyn muttered under her breath. "We run across one wildly attractive, naked man, and suddenly I'm chopped liver."

  Murphy laughed when the puppy bit his beard, chewing at the curling ends.

  "Looks like you're hungry. Why don't you come inside? I'll fix you something more appetizing." Turning his head, Murphy pinned Jordyn with his bright-blue gaze. "You can come too. Unless you have other plans."

  Busted. Jordyn didn't know how long he'd been aware of her presence. Whatever the timeframe, Murphy didn't seem the least bit concerned by his lack of attire. He simply watched her a moment longer, then walked away.

  And Jordyn simply followed. What else could she do? Head back into the woods to save herself some much-deserved embarrassment? Hardly. The man had no shame, she thought. Still, with a backside as fine as his, why should he?

  The building Murphy disappeared into appeared to be new. Jordyn took a moment to admire the clean lines. She loved her townhouse. However, the one thing she missed was a porch. Where she could hang baskets of brightly colored flowers. A place to relax in the evening. Maybe on a perfectly placed swing.

  Murphy's house had just such a swing. On a wraparound porch. Lined with baskets of yellow and red begonias.

  Since she'd already been issued an invitation, Jordyn didn't hesitate to enter through the open front door—after she removed her mud-caked shoes.

  The outside of the house had been a surprise considering her first impression of Murphy. She'd hung a label on the man without any facts beyond his appearance to back her assumptions—a fact she wasn't proud to admit.

  The exterior was sleek and sophisticated, instead of down-home rustic. And the interior? Comfortable. Welcoming. Bold colors and richly textured fabrics. Gleaming maple flowed through the open floor plan to a large wood-burning fireplace on one side and a huge modern kitchen on the other.

  Two bookcases—actually filled with books, not dust-collecting knickknacks—flanked the fireplace. Jordyn could picture herself on a rainy afternoon, curled up on the oversized love seat, sipping a cup of herbal tea, and reading.

  Murphy emerged from a hallway to the left of the kitchen. His long hair was still damp, the heavy length brushing his shoulders. He wore a dark t-shirt and pair of gray sweatpants. Right on the heels of his bare feet, trotted the puppy, her nails clicking on the wood floor.

  "Sorry I don't have a bag of Puppy Chow. How about a couple of scrambled eggs?"

  Bemused, Jordyn watched as Murphy took a bowl from the cupboard, adding water. By the time he'd turned on one of the gas burners and taken some eggs from the refrigerator, the puppy had consumed some to the water, the rest—in her overzealous enthusiasm—ended up on the floor. And the cabinets. And on Murphy.

  She waited for his reaction, ready to jump to the puppy's defense if need be. Jordyn needn't have worried. Without missing a beat, Murphy wiped up the mess, patted the adoring dog, and cracked two eggs into a frying pan.

  "Would you like to join us for lunch?" Murphy asked, his attention focused on the cooking eggs. "Soup and sandwiches are on the menu for the humans."

  "Okay. Thank you."

  Jordyn took a seat at the counter, her hands resting on the copper-specked granite top. The man's matter of fact attitude puzzled her. Considering how he looked in the buff, chances were good that women dropped in unannounced all the time. However, his lack of curiosity seemed odd.

  "Don't you have any questions? I know the puppy is a good listener, but unless she suddenly acquired the ability to talk, she couldn't fill you in on how we came to be here."

  "Mm." The sound Murphy made was hard to decipher. Somewhere between a grunt and a chuckle. "A talking dog would be a novelty. But I didn't need her to tell me your story."

  "Please, continue."

  "The dog? She looks to be in good health. Friendly. Good natured. I don't think she's yours. Am I correct?"

  "You are."

  And annoying. And—to her consternation—just as sexy as she remembered. More so. If the world were a fair and just place, Murphy would sport a beer belly. And man boobs. Instead, he had the kind of body women dreamed about, but were rarely fortunate enough to encounter first hand

  "Which means," he continued, unaware of the turn Jordyn's thoughts had taken. Thank heavens. "She's either lost. Or abandoned. Sad, but shit happens—so to speak." Murphy scraped the eggs onto a dish. "How am I doing so far?"

  Jordyn found herself smiling. Another surprise. Murphy possessed a certain unforced charm. Disarming would be a better description. Oh, boy. If she didn't watch herself, she could be in big trouble.

  "Since I can't speak for the dog—and she's in no position to contradict you? Your theory seems sound," Jordyn conceded. "What about me?"

  "You're easy." When she raised an eyebrow, Murphy laughed. "Your situation, not your virtue. My guess? Any man who wants you has to put in a good deal of time and effort."

  "In other words, you think I'm difficult?" she asked, not the least bit offended.

  Jordyn was proud to say she could be a major pain in the ass. Never easy. However, when the mood—and the man—was right, she could melt. Like ice cream in the mid-July sun.

  Murphy gave her a look that made her breath catch in her throat.

  "I've never had a problem with difficult."

  His blue eyes heated. But his demeanor remained calm and cool as he assembled their sandwiches.

  "There's a chance—slim, I'll grant you—that you spent the last three days lusting after me."

  Jordyn snorted at Murphy's outrageous remark. His lips twitched, but he continued, piling sliced turkey on whole wheat.

  "You discovered where I live, and decided to act on your uncontrollable desire."

  Entertained, Jordyn rested her chin on her clasped hands. "You've described quite the scenario. Does that kind of thing happen to you very often?"

  "Anymore? Rarely."

  Before Jordyn could ask Murphy to explain his cryptic answer, he declared lunch was ready.

  "I'd like to freshen up first." Jordyn held up her grimy hands.

  "Down the hall. First door on your right."

  Jordyn picked up her backpack. The bathroom was small. A sink. A toilet. A window looking over the backyard. A big draw about living in a place like this was the scenery. The architect who designed the house would have been a fool not to take advantage in every room possible.

  "Ugh," she sighed when she caught sight of her reflection.

  A little dirt she could live with. However, her hair looked like an abandoned bird's nest. Like a person might find months after the weaved-together scavenged sticks and straw, and fine baby bird feathers had fulfilled their purpose.

  Not that she cared about impressing her host. Still, Jordyn thought as she took a comb from the emergency supplies, she liked to put her best foot forward whenever possible.

  Tugging her hair free of what seemed like a million tangles, she twisted the length into a knot on top of her head. A clip to hold the mass in place, and she almost looked like she did before the accident.

  Jordyn turned on the tap, splashing cold water on her face. A pat dry with a wonderfully fluffy towel, a bit of moisturizer, and a dab of gloss on her lips, and she was ready to face the world—or one very large, very hairy, extremely sexy man.

  "Is there anything I can do to help?" Jordyn asked as she returned to the kitchen.

  "You can grab a couple of spoons from the drawer to your right. Then we're set. Water? Juice. Coffee? I don't drink so I never think to keep wine or beer to offer to my guests."

  Jordyn frowned. The first time she saw Murphy, he downe
d a glass of something she'd assumed was alcohol.

  "In town? At the bar? I thought…"

  "Water," Murphy said without rancor at her mistake. "When I feel really festive, I drink the carbonated stuff. Otherwise, I stick to flat. Bottled. Or straight from the tap. You're welcome to any of the above."

  "Bottled. Flat."

  With a nod, Murphy brought the drinks to the table.

  As was the soup. Hot and perfectly seasoned, Jordyn sighed with pleasure as she took her first taste.

  "Tomato is my favorite."

  "There's a woman at the farmer's market who makes all kinds—depending on what vegetables are in season. I stock up whenever I'm in town."

  "Murphy?" Jordyn asked between bites.

  "Yes?"

  "You have to be the least curious person I've ever met."

  "How so?"

  Jordyn shook her head. The man was amazing. If their situations were reversed, she would already know his life story. Wasn't he interested? She certainly was.

  "Let's start at the beginning. My name is Jordyn."

  "Murphy." His handshake was firm, his palm slightly callused.

  Interesting. Neither of them volunteered a last name. Jordyn wasn't sure of her motivation. As for Murphy? She had no idea. Perhaps she was better off not knowing.

  "Murphy." Jordyn shook his hand again before letting go. "I remember. Everybody at Paddy's Pub called out your name."

  "I stop in now and again." Murphy shrugged as he took a bite of his sandwich.

  From the response his entrance had garnered, now and again seemed like an understatement, but Jordyn didn't push the issue.

  "After a very successful business trip, I was on my way home. I took a wrong turn, found the road was washed out, swerved to miss the hole, and hit a tree instead."

  "Figured something like that. This time of year, washouts are pretty common." Murphy frowned. "You're okay?"

  Jordyn nodded.

  "I should have asked sooner."

  "Yes." Jordyn smiled, letting him know she didn't hold a grudge over his lack of manners. "Why didn't you?"

  "I don't get a lot of company. Which is the point of living where I do."

  When he would have cleared the plates, Jordyn stopped him. "You did all the prep. Let me clean up."

  He didn't argue.

  "Trash goes under the sink. Put the rest in the dishwasher."

  Happy to help, Jordyn did as Murphy instructed.

  "You don't strike me as the hermit type," she said as she rinsed out their bowls. "And yet, here you are."

  Jordyn hadn't asked for an explanation—exactly. More of a gentle nudge with the expectation of information. Why did a man who seemed like a social creature at heart, isolate himself where he could go weeks—even months—without human contact?

  "I think I wear the mantle of hermit quite nicely." Murphy seemed to find her assessment amusing as he expertly skirted her non-question.

  "However, now and then, a little company is nice. Welcome, Jordyn. Thank you for joining me for lunch."

  Next time—if there were a next time—Jordyn would use a more direct approach. For now, she smiled.

  "Thank you for feeding me so well." Her smile turned sheepish. "I'm sorry I caught you… unaware."

  Murphy laughed, his teeth a flash of white through his full, dark beard. "You caught me naked as a jaybird?"

  "That, too."

  "I didn't mind." He tugged at his beard, a definite twinkle in his clear-blue eyes. "Did you?"

  Jordyn felt she was at a crossroads. Tell Murphy the truth. Yes, she liked looking at him naked. And would love the chance to get a closer view. Or, take the safer track, and lie her face off.

  "Do you have a phone I can use?"

  Why lie? A change of subject was so much easier.

  "Nope."

  "My cell doesn't work, and you don't have a phone? How am I supposed to get my car to a garage? Or myself off this mountain?"

  "I'll give you a lift to town."

  Relief or disappointment? Jordyn's emotions were at odds. A night alone with Murphy would have been… interesting. To say the least. She'd never indulged in a one-night stand. Not because she was morally opposed. She'd never experienced such intense, instantaneous, physical attraction.

  Until now.

  Would she have jumped? Thrown caution to the wind? Jordyn sighed. Looked like she would never know.

  "Thank you."

  "Happy to help. But I can't take you until tomorrow."

  Great. Just great.

  "Don't worry." Murphy smiled as if he could read Jordyn's thoughts. "We'll think of something to pass the time."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ● ≈ ● ≈ ●

  "CRAZY. STUPID. FOOL."

  Alone, Murphy could have shouted his opinion of himself to the world. Instead, he chose to mutter to himself. A habit he'd acquired during his two years of isolated living.

  Briskly, he walked the path that would lead him to Jordyn's SUV. The one that—if she'd known existed—would have saved her a lot of wear, tear, and effort. She'd trudged through nearly two miles of underbrush—not an easy feat. Especially with a frisky puppy in tow.

  What was he thinking?

  All of two seconds ticked by before Murphy had his answer? Thinking? He wasn't. Not with his brain.

  The moment he'd first laid eyes on Jordyn. Long before he knew her name. Before they laughed over a meal like old, comfortable friends. Or looked into her deep-green eyes. Murphy had known in an instant that she could be trouble. Now? He hadn't the slightest doubt.

  For all his scaled-down lifestyle, Murphy had no desire to become a monk. But his days of sex for the sake of quantity over quality were a thing of the past. From time to time—when the mood struck—there were a couple of local women he called upon. Attractive. Easy going. He scratched their itch. They scratched his. With absolutely no expectations of anything deeper.

  Lately, he spent most of his time in his studio. Hours—days—passed without a thought of anything else. The day he'd seen Jordyn at the pub had been his first trip to town in over a month. She'd stirred his interest—more than a little. But the idea of finding a substitute hadn't appealed to him.

  Murphy hadn't spent the last three days pining. He hadn't given Jordyn more than a fleeting thought.

  Now, Jordyn was neither out of sight, nor out of mind. The knowledge she would be ensconced in his guest room for the night, two doors down, made his sex drive shift from neutral into overdrive.

  As he put one foot in front of the other, Murphy grumbled again. Louder. Adding a few choice curse words to the mix.

  Murphy had no one but himself to blame. Yes, his truck was temporarily out of commission. What he conveniently hadn't mentioned was the CB radio he kept in his basement for emergencies. Or, if she hiked a mile further west, she could have used her cell phone to call for a tow truck.

  Chances were better than good that Jordyn would be his guest either way. They were thirty-five miles from civilization. For a non-emergency, she would be lucky if she could get a tow by tomorrow morning. Late afternoon was a better guess.

  However, he could have called his neighbor. A retired Air Force general, Zeke Townsend would have been happy to help Jordyn if asked.

  Murphy could justify his choices all he wanted. Quite simply, he didn't want Jordyn to leave because, more than his next breath, he wanted one night alone with the gorgeous brunette.

  For two years, Murphy kept on the straight and narrow. Good. Edging on sainthood. Didn't he deserve a reward for his due diligence?

  After all, what were the chances Jordyn would have an accident so close to his home? The day after his truck broke down? And the fact she hadn't thrown a fit as Murphy had expected? Another flashing neon sign.

  At Paddy's Pub, she'd struck him as the kind of woman who was used to getting her way. A pampered princess.

  However, he'd met a few princesses
in his time, and none of them would have walked two feet to find help, let alone two miles.

  Admittedly, Jordyn looked like she belonged on a pedestal, but his gut told him if a man tried to put her there, she would jump off—and kick him in the balls for his efforts.

  So far—though the sample size was small—Murphy liked Jordyn. Sex or no sex—and in his world, no always meant no—he wanted to spend a little more time with her. The idea of good conversation was almost as appealing as the hope of good sex.

  Almost, he thought with a chuckle.

  Murphy's grin faded when he caught his first sight of Jordyn's SUV. Other than some missing bark and a few deep scratches, the pine tree looked a lot better than the front-end of the vehicle. But neither the smashed grill nor popped airbag, had his stomach doing a flip like the deep chasm he found a few feet away.

  When Jordyn said the road had washed out, she hadn't exaggerated. If she hadn't hit the tree, she would have plunged ten feet straight down. She was damn lucky she walked away.

  Opening the back, what he found surprised him. Or rather, what he didn't find. He'd expected Jordyn to pack more than she needed—an outfit and shoes for every conceivable occasion. As he set the one and only suitcase on the ground, Murphy realized that once more, he was a victim of his own preconceived ideas.

  Murphy wondered about Jordyn's impressions the first time she looked at him. He was a big man. Some might say intimidating. She'd gotten a good look at everything he had to offer—so to speak.

  Yet she hadn't hesitated when he invited her inside his home.

  Jordyn was attracted to him. Murphy had been around long enough to recognize the signs. He felt the same about her. As adults, they could act on those feelings—or not.

  The sun was low in the western sky as Murphy entered the clearing. The kaleidoscope of reds and yellows never failed to amaze him. No matter how hard man tried, he could never duplicate the wonder of nature.

  But today, Murphy's attention was caught by another of nature's gifts.

  Near the lakeshore, Jordyn sat in one of two wicker lounge chairs—a present from his mother on his last birthday. Curled in a ball at her feet, the puppy chewed on a stick.