Renowned artist Wren Springfield books a lakefront cabin to spend the next two months painting portraits of classic horror movie monsters dropped into scenic locales. But on her first night in town, she stumbles upon her neighbor, Luna, and suddenly the only work of art she can see is Luna every chance she gets.
Local real estate magnate Luna Ponce thinks she has the lakefront to herself. Little does she know her business partner rented out the cabin next to hers. The two women are fated to be together all summer long, tempting and teasing each other in more ways than one.
“Howdy, neighbor.”
Wren admired Luna’s gait as she strolled up the long, meandering drive, slow and leisurely and enticing, all soft curves and rough edges and lean angles to spare.
She wore a flouncy sundress, periwinkle blue with little white daisies in the print, the material wispy and clinging to her radiant, youthful body. Camel flats complimented her already caramel skin, beaming and aglow in the early afternoon sunlight. She literally could have just come from a modeling photo shoot and Wren wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.
Despite their less than agreeable run-in earlier that morning, Luna offered up a smile and a slow, cautious wave. “I see the place is agreeing with you,” she said noncommittally, standing at the foot of the porch steps as Wren sat atop one of the buttery wicker chairs on the patio, surrounded by radiant purple and gold and burnt umber throw pillows.
“It’s heavenly,” Wren murmured, holding up her half-empty glass of wine. “Would you ... still like to join me?”
Luna cocked her head gently, smile dimming only somewhat. “Still?”
Wren girded her loins and risked another lame attempt at neighborliness. She’d never, ever, in her entire life been good at this sort of thing. Then again, the glass of wine she’d had before this one had dulled her inhibitions just enough to give it the old college try. “This morning? I asked you if you’d like to come over for a quick drink, remember?”
Luna’s face brightened into a soft, gentle smile, giving Wren a brief glimmer of hope that she wasn’t an absolute goofball after all. She even gave a little half-snort as she replied, “That’s what you asked me?”
Wren clucked a warning tongue. “You already forgot?”
Luna rushed to apologize. “No, hardly, I just ... had a lot on my mind this morning, that’s all.”
Wren avoided her nubile neighbor’s eyes and murmured, “That’s surprising.”
Luna had taken another step up toward the porch, pausing on the middle step with another semi-curious cock of her head. The gesture caused the length of her straight, raven hair to caress the bounty of her buttery smooth shoulder, all but bare save for a thin spaghetti strap of her clingy sundress. Wren wondered, idly, how silken and smooth Luna’s skin might feel beneath her eager, trembling fingertips.
Luna’s reply was as cautious as her expression. “How so?”
Wren rode the wave of her lowered inhibitions, aided by the equally buttery wine and a thoroughly empty stomach, before offering, “Nothing, really, it’s just ... you knocked off pretty early last night, that’s all.”
If Luna was surprised by the comment, her face didn’t register anything beyond mild curiosity. Then again, a businesswoman of her merit, she had probably learned to keep a poker face years ago. “How ... observant ... of you, neighbor.”
“I’m a painter,” Wren hedged, none too eager to play her hand so soon in the conversation. “It’s in my job description to be ... observant.”
Luna sighed, wavering slightly before taking the third and final step onto the large wooden platform that constituted the front porch of Wren’s spacious and modern rental cabin. She stood in front of the second chair, mismatched but still managing to fit the quaint, rustically modern theme of the front porch aesthetic. Luna, it seemed, was an artist in her own right, her canvas being the properties she owned around scenic Lake Antler, every charming, quaint and perfectly paired accessory a swath of her expert brush. “Good to know if we’re going to be neighbors for a bit.”
“I promise not to pry too much,” Wren hedged, nodding at the seat over which Luna still wavered. Standing this close to her, Wren could smell her neighbor’s exotic perfume, a mix of clover and sandalwood, as intoxicating as her glowing skin and deep hazel eyes.
Luna gently scooped the back of her sundress against her thighs with a practiced gesture before sinking daintily down into the second deck chair and crossing her long, athletic legs.
“Where’s the fun in that?” she murmured, almost to herself, even as she met Wren’s eyes with a vaguely defiant stare.
Wren was too busy quietly celebrating to notice. Much. A small wicker basket by her chair offered a half-empty bottle of Chardonnay in a chiller bag and a second, stemless glass matching her own. She offered the glass to her guest and Luna reached for it with a tentative hand. Wren filled it halfway to the top, hardly believing her good fortune. She’d thought for sure the busy real estate magnate would turn down her offer, only to find her apparently receptive to the idea instead.
They clinked glasses and sipped cautiously, still dancing around each other as cautiously as they had earlier that morning. Then, as now, Luna seemed stiff and resistant while Wren, having the upper hand after last night’s peep show, luxuriated in her neighbor’s dirty little secret.
