Final Score, page 6
“That or you’ll get so horny you both throw off all your clothes and go at it like rabbits. Hard to tell which way this will roll.”
He studied the tiled floor of the changeroom. “Maybe I should date.”
“Date? Who?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m acting like a guy who isn’t getting any because I’m a guy who isn’t getting any.”
Adam sniffed. Wiped sweat. “Not that I’m an expert on relationships, but I don’t think it’s going to be a great idea to start dating other women when you’ve kissed Cassie. She might get the wrong impression.”
Max nodded. “She might think you’re a slut.”
They all snorted with laughter and then Adam said, “I need you guys to go get measured for tuxes. For the wedding.”
“I already own one,” Max reminded them.
“A tux? Really?” Dylan complained even though he’d been prepared to force himself into clothing that felt more confining than his bunker gear.
“You’re my two best men. You have to look good. My wife-to-be expects it.”
Dylan thought that having two best men was a bunch of new-age crap, but then he wondered how he would feel if Adam had chosen Max instead of him, how any of the three could choose one man over the other as his closest friend, and knew it was impossible. One day he’d end up with two best men, too. Unless he did the sensible thing and eloped.
Or stayed single.
They finished their beers, then showered and packed their bags. “Well,” Adam said, “shall we join the girls?”
Max nodded and the two started out of the changeroom.
“What do you mean, join the girls?” Dylan demanded. Since he wasn’t an engaged man nobody ever told him anything.
They turned in unison. “Claire and Serena and Cassie are at a wine bar. We told the girls we’d stop by,” Adam said, his keys jingling in his hand as though he was in a big hurry to get going.
“I don’t know.” He felt weird about seeing Cassie in a social context. Well, he felt weird seeing her in any context since his stupidity.
“Aw, come on. The sooner you start acting normal around her, the easier it will be.”
He should go home. He should catch up on TV. Pay some bills.
Then he thought about Cassie being stuck alone at a table with two sets of wedding-planning lovebirds and knew he couldn’t do it to her. “Okay. One quick drink and I’m out of there.”
They met up at an upscale wine bar Dylan had never been in. He was more of a beer-and-nachos kind of guy.
The three met up in the parking lot and walked in together. He saw Cassie right away. He’d never seen her dressed up to go out before and he couldn’t help but notice that she cleaned up real nice. She wore a green top that showed off bare arms and a touch of cleavage. She wore bright lipstick that showed off her kissable lips and her white teeth, which were currently on display as she laughed at something one of the other women was saying.
That was one of the things he liked about her, he realized. She laughed a lot. Didn’t seem as though she took life too seriously. You got to know a lot about a person when you were renovating their house. It was a stressful, dirty process, especially when the homeowner was living on site. It brought out the worst in most people. Kitchens got torn out, plumbing got moved, dust and noise were everywhere. Yet Cassie seemed to take it all in stride. She remained good-humored when the tile box he opened was the wrong color and when the fridge she’d chosen was out of stock until the next millennium.
She was willing to pitch in and if she didn’t know how to do something, she was willing to learn.
As he walked forward he realized, to his shock, that in the two days they’d been apart he’d actually missed her. He’d missed the easy way they’d joked around each other and she’d shared her ideas, asked his opinion. He’d asked her to make choices, offered suggestions. They’d had an easy give-and-take. He realized he wanted that back.
So when she turned her head and caught him looking at her, he didn’t immediately glance away. He sent her an easy smile. After a second, she returned it.
The three men walked up. Adam kissed Serena and said, “Welcome to Washington,” to Claire and kissed her on the cheek. Then, of course, Cassie got the cheek-kissing treatment. Max, being South American, with testosterone in his veins where blood should be, grabbed the opportunity to kiss three hot women.
What was Dylan supposed to do?
He kissed Serena on the cheek. Kissed Claire on the cheek. Turned to Cassie. Knew he’d look like a huge idiot if he didn’t kiss her, too. He reached in, noticed her scent right away—he smelled it at odd times around the house—a faint floral scent with a hint of spice. Her skin was so smooth and being this close to her reminded him all over again of how she’d felt beneath him, hot and sweet. How her lips had felt under his, how she’d tasted. How her hair felt in his hands. Her ripe, squirming body.
Shit.
Since the other guys had grabbed seats beside their wives-to-be, he took a seat beside Cassie at the table. “How’s it going?”
“Good.”
He hadn’t seen her since Friday. He’d left today before she’d returned home.
“The bathroom tile looks great,” she said. It had been the job he’d started this morning. The plumber had moved everything, so today they’d put in the flooring and then he’d started the tile.
“You made a good choice.” Then, because it had surprised him, he said, “You bought cat food.”
If the change of subject surprised her, tile to cat food, she didn’t let on.
“I ran out of tuna.” She bit her lip when he merely raised an eyebrow. “I need to fatten her up a bit before sending her to the shelter. She’s so skinny. People might not realize she’s healthy.”
“Or, you could adopt her.”
“Cats can live twenty years,” she said in a tone that suggested she’d been thinking about it.
“I think you’ll outlast her.”
She choked on a giggle. “You know what I mean.”
“Commitment. Yeah.”
He knew that a cat had not been part of her plan when she bought a house, but he’d also seen her at her computer, the kitten a snoozing ball in her lap. His money was on the cat.
“So, how are the wedding plans coming?” Adam asked Claire.
Dylan’s attention jerked toward his teammate.
Seriously? These guys liked to smash other men into the boards during intense hockey games. They chased criminals and ran multimillion-dollar companies. Were they really going to talk about wedding planning like those people on reality TV shows?
“I’ve barely started,” Claire said. “There’s not much to choose from in Spruce Bay, Alaska. Luckily we have the internet. But I am shopping for my dress and all my accessories while I’m here.”
“I’ve got a list of the best places,” Serena promised. “Maybe we can go together?”
“Oh, I’d love that.” She turned to Cassie. “You should come, too. It would be more fun with three.”
“Sure. Why not?”
Dylan started to feel the way he knew his tux would feel for Adam’s wedding. As if the collar was too tight and he was slowly choking.
Luckily the wine bar condescended to serve beer. And the gourmet burger wasn’t bad.
Once they got off wedding talk, the evening was surprisingly fun. He felt the muscle exhaustion from a good workout, the company of good people, and there was a lot of laughter and joking around as they settled in and relaxed.
After they’d finished, Serena said, “I hate to break up the party, but I’ve got an early meeting.” She was giving a coaching presentation in Seattle and also had a book signing planned.
Adam and Max had driven in together in Max’s car, so Adam said, “I’ll come with you.”
“Do you mind dropping me off?” Cassie asked.
“Of course.” Then he realized the girls had also driven in together.
Even before Adam shot him the glance of a man who was going to be deprived of his sexy fiancée for a whole day and couldn’t waste a single minute, he was already saying, “I can drive you home, Cassie. It’s on my way.”
“Oh.” He got the sudden feeling she wished she’d brought her own ride. “Well, if you’re sure.”
The three couples all drifted to their cars and shouted out good-nights.
He opened the passenger door for Cassie because it made him feel like a jerk not to. She flashed him a smile and had to step up into the truck, which made her black skirt rise, giving him a nice glimpse of thigh.
He saw her settled, then banged the truck door shut and rounded to his own side. Be cool, he said to himself. Don’t mention the kiss and everything will go back to normal.
8
BE A GROWN-UP, Cassie said to herself as she waited for Dylan to get into the truck. This was the perfect opportunity to talk to him about that kiss. To clear the air. They’d get through a couple of awkward minutes and then they could return to the easy work relationship they’d shared.
He started up the truck, backed out of the space and as he headed forward said, “You know what I was thinking?”
Oh, good, she thought. He was going to bring up the kiss. “What were you thinking?”
“That we should move the dishwasher.”
“Move the dishwasher?” That’s what he wanted to talk about? They’d all but had a date tonight, had been strained with each other since that crazy kiss, and he wanted to talk about moving a dishwasher?
But, of course, the house reno was her baby. Right now the location of her dishwasher actually was more vital than the meaning of one kiss. If he’d planned to derail her—and he probably had—he couldn’t have picked a better topic. “Where do you want to move it?”
In the dim light she caught the flash of his teeth. “Not out of the kitchen or anything. I was thinking that if we situated it on the left of the sink instead of the right then it ends up closer to the cupboards and the cutlery drawer. Might be more efficient.”
She pulled up the kitchen design as though she’d loaded a CAD program into her brain. Nodded enthusiastically then, realizing he had his eyes on the road, said, “Yes. I think that’s a really good idea.”
“You know, you’re an easy person to work for. You’re open to new ideas. You’d be surprised how many people want to put everything back exactly the way it was. Drives me nuts.”
“Sometimes change is good.”
There was silence for a few moments. He fiddled with the music. Found an oldies station that was playing Marvin Gaye. Did Dylan even notice that Marvin was crooning about sexual feelings?
“I think I found some cork flooring I like.”
He nodded. As though he’d expected she’d take that suggestion, as well. Well, he might be a little full of himself but damn, he was good.
Various flooring surfaces kept them occupied until he pulled into her drive. She turned to thank him for driving her home and found him looking at her mouth. She didn’t think he’d intended it, more that his gaze had strayed there and got stuck.
Oh, the heck with it. If two intelligent women like Claire and Serena thought she should bring up the other night, then she figured she’d better take their advice just as she took Dylan’s advice on renos. Heaven knew both women were more successful with relationships than she was.
“Dylan.”
“Mmm?”
“About that kiss the other day...”
His gaze jerked up to hers. “That was a mistake,” he said quickly.
She felt stung. All she’d wanted to do was clear the air. “It was?” she said before she could prevent the words from escaping.
“No.” He shook his head as though he found the whole thing as confusing as she did. “It was great. I mean, you’re amazing. It’s just that—”
“You’re working for me.”
“Exactly.” He flicked off his seat belt. Moved a little closer.
If this wasn’t the most ridiculous conversation she’d ever had. She unclicked her own seat belt. “Me kissing you could be construed as sexual harassment in the workplace.”
“Just what I was thinking,” he agreed, his big, burn-scarred hand moving to cup the back of her head.
“How do we handle that?”
“Probably best if I kiss you.”
“I think that’s a good—” She never finished the sentence. His mouth closed over the word idea, taking that and any other idea she might have had right out of her head. She leaned into his warmth, unable to prevent the longing she’d felt ever since they’d first touched. He was so warm, so solid, so damned sexy. She felt the strength of his muscles, and when he took over her mouth she felt the dash of recklessness that would prevent this man from ever being called dull.
At least this time she wasn’t splashed with dirty water from washing walls. Her hair was styled; she wore makeup and her going-out clothes. He smelled of clean male and whatever he’d used for his postgame shower. Some kind of shower gel that smelled like eucalyptus. And underneath that she smelled him. His skin, his hot, sexy self.
She sighed as she gave in to sensation. As discussions went they hadn’t exactly had one, but at the moment she really didn’t care. He was kissing her and she realized how much she wanted to be kissed by this capable, exciting man.
He touched her in all the right places, treating her body with delicacy, not grabbing and groping. Oh, this man knew his way around a woman’s body and she suddenly knew that she wanted him to have all of it. And soon.
He pulled slowly back, breathing a little heavily. “Well.”
She tried to push her hair back into place but it was hopeless. She licked her already wet lips. “Would you like to see the new duvet cover I bought for the bedroom? It looks so good with the wall color and the chandelier you put up for me.”
He eased back a little, his eyes glinting. “That wouldn’t be more sexual harassment, would it, boss?”
“Do you want it to be?” Her words sounded heavy, almost as heavy as the feelings pooling in her belly.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Come on, then.” She pushed open her door and jumped down. He turned off the truck engine and followed her. She almost fumbled the key in the lock, she was so full of anticipation—and maybe a touch of nervousness. What if it was awful? What if he—or she—was disappointed? Then they’d have to work together and it could be even more awkward. What if he thought this was a hookup?
What if he didn’t?
Oh, no wonder she was no good at relationships, she chided herself as she started up the stairs, feeling him behind her, as hot as her fantasies. If she started worrying about consequences before she’d even done anything, they’d both end up disappointed.
Then they reached the top of the stairs and he pulled her back against him, kissing the back of her neck so she shivered.
Consequences?
Disappointment?
Not an option.
She flipped on the chandelier as she entered, taking a moment even through the haze of lust to enjoy the new space. The chandelier sparkled like something out of a fairy tale, casting soft light on the blue-and-yellow duvet cover. The soft blue walls were perfect. She’d bought cushions in blue and yellow and then thrown caution to the wind and added a couple in French-country fabrics. They didn’t match the bedspread but they pulled the room together, as an HGTV decorator would say.
The side tables were mismatched pieces she’d bought at a Goodwill store years ago and painted white. Shabby chic. She still liked them. She was waiting on artwork and the headboard until she found the perfect pieces. She wasn’t in a rush; she’d have this house for a long, long time.
“It looks fantastic,” he said, duly admiring the room. “I’ll get onto your en suite as soon as we finish the main bathroom and the kitchen.”
She nodded. Then realized that as much as she loved her new chandelier, she did not want to make love under its somewhat merciless gaze. Crossing to the bedside table, she flicked on one of the crystal lamps that had belonged to her grandmother.
He didn’t comment, merely flipped off the overhead switch so the room immediately became more dimly lit. For a second she was sorry, realizing that if he couldn’t see her completely clearly, the same would be true for her—and she really wanted to see him in all his glorious detail.
She was about to have Mr. June in her bed.
For a moment she felt the grip of uncertainty. What had she done? Or, more correctly, what was she contemplating doing? If one kiss had made her and her contractor handyman strained around each other, what would full intimacy do?
As she turned to him, wondering if she should call the evening off, she found him already in front of her. The man moved like the cat.
He pulled her against him so she bumped chest to chest, feeling his strength once more. All it took was one touch and her worries disappeared. He had enough sureness for both of them.
He tipped back her head, taking full advantage of her mouth, kissing her as though all he’d ever wanted in the entirety of his life was to kiss her. She was moving from zero to supersonic way too fast. She felt the surge of lust take her and toss her as he moved his mouth on hers, teasing her with his tongue. She could taste beer and hot, healthy male. As he pushed his body against hers, she amended that to hot, healthy, thoroughly aroused male.
She threw her arms around him and began to rub her hands down his back, enjoying the feel of his strong muscles enticing her beneath his shirt.
Before she could plunge her hands beneath the cotton to the hot skin, he eased her silky top over her head, so she had to release him long enough to get her hands up. Her skin was so sensitive she felt the slide of fabric like a caress.
Even though she wanted to put her hands under his shirt so badly they tingled, he held her away from him, his gaze devouring her breasts in the going-out underwear she was so glad she’d worn. She’d have to remember to thank Serena for that last trip they’d taken to Victoria’s Secret, when her friend had pretty much forced her to buy lacy nonsense even though she didn’t have anyone to wear it for.
He studied the tiled floor of the changeroom. “Maybe I should date.”
“Date? Who?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m acting like a guy who isn’t getting any because I’m a guy who isn’t getting any.”
Adam sniffed. Wiped sweat. “Not that I’m an expert on relationships, but I don’t think it’s going to be a great idea to start dating other women when you’ve kissed Cassie. She might get the wrong impression.”
Max nodded. “She might think you’re a slut.”
They all snorted with laughter and then Adam said, “I need you guys to go get measured for tuxes. For the wedding.”
“I already own one,” Max reminded them.
“A tux? Really?” Dylan complained even though he’d been prepared to force himself into clothing that felt more confining than his bunker gear.
“You’re my two best men. You have to look good. My wife-to-be expects it.”
Dylan thought that having two best men was a bunch of new-age crap, but then he wondered how he would feel if Adam had chosen Max instead of him, how any of the three could choose one man over the other as his closest friend, and knew it was impossible. One day he’d end up with two best men, too. Unless he did the sensible thing and eloped.
Or stayed single.
They finished their beers, then showered and packed their bags. “Well,” Adam said, “shall we join the girls?”
Max nodded and the two started out of the changeroom.
“What do you mean, join the girls?” Dylan demanded. Since he wasn’t an engaged man nobody ever told him anything.
They turned in unison. “Claire and Serena and Cassie are at a wine bar. We told the girls we’d stop by,” Adam said, his keys jingling in his hand as though he was in a big hurry to get going.
“I don’t know.” He felt weird about seeing Cassie in a social context. Well, he felt weird seeing her in any context since his stupidity.
“Aw, come on. The sooner you start acting normal around her, the easier it will be.”
He should go home. He should catch up on TV. Pay some bills.
Then he thought about Cassie being stuck alone at a table with two sets of wedding-planning lovebirds and knew he couldn’t do it to her. “Okay. One quick drink and I’m out of there.”
They met up at an upscale wine bar Dylan had never been in. He was more of a beer-and-nachos kind of guy.
The three met up in the parking lot and walked in together. He saw Cassie right away. He’d never seen her dressed up to go out before and he couldn’t help but notice that she cleaned up real nice. She wore a green top that showed off bare arms and a touch of cleavage. She wore bright lipstick that showed off her kissable lips and her white teeth, which were currently on display as she laughed at something one of the other women was saying.
That was one of the things he liked about her, he realized. She laughed a lot. Didn’t seem as though she took life too seriously. You got to know a lot about a person when you were renovating their house. It was a stressful, dirty process, especially when the homeowner was living on site. It brought out the worst in most people. Kitchens got torn out, plumbing got moved, dust and noise were everywhere. Yet Cassie seemed to take it all in stride. She remained good-humored when the tile box he opened was the wrong color and when the fridge she’d chosen was out of stock until the next millennium.
She was willing to pitch in and if she didn’t know how to do something, she was willing to learn.
As he walked forward he realized, to his shock, that in the two days they’d been apart he’d actually missed her. He’d missed the easy way they’d joked around each other and she’d shared her ideas, asked his opinion. He’d asked her to make choices, offered suggestions. They’d had an easy give-and-take. He realized he wanted that back.
So when she turned her head and caught him looking at her, he didn’t immediately glance away. He sent her an easy smile. After a second, she returned it.
The three men walked up. Adam kissed Serena and said, “Welcome to Washington,” to Claire and kissed her on the cheek. Then, of course, Cassie got the cheek-kissing treatment. Max, being South American, with testosterone in his veins where blood should be, grabbed the opportunity to kiss three hot women.
What was Dylan supposed to do?
He kissed Serena on the cheek. Kissed Claire on the cheek. Turned to Cassie. Knew he’d look like a huge idiot if he didn’t kiss her, too. He reached in, noticed her scent right away—he smelled it at odd times around the house—a faint floral scent with a hint of spice. Her skin was so smooth and being this close to her reminded him all over again of how she’d felt beneath him, hot and sweet. How her lips had felt under his, how she’d tasted. How her hair felt in his hands. Her ripe, squirming body.
Shit.
Since the other guys had grabbed seats beside their wives-to-be, he took a seat beside Cassie at the table. “How’s it going?”
“Good.”
He hadn’t seen her since Friday. He’d left today before she’d returned home.
“The bathroom tile looks great,” she said. It had been the job he’d started this morning. The plumber had moved everything, so today they’d put in the flooring and then he’d started the tile.
“You made a good choice.” Then, because it had surprised him, he said, “You bought cat food.”
If the change of subject surprised her, tile to cat food, she didn’t let on.
“I ran out of tuna.” She bit her lip when he merely raised an eyebrow. “I need to fatten her up a bit before sending her to the shelter. She’s so skinny. People might not realize she’s healthy.”
“Or, you could adopt her.”
“Cats can live twenty years,” she said in a tone that suggested she’d been thinking about it.
“I think you’ll outlast her.”
She choked on a giggle. “You know what I mean.”
“Commitment. Yeah.”
He knew that a cat had not been part of her plan when she bought a house, but he’d also seen her at her computer, the kitten a snoozing ball in her lap. His money was on the cat.
“So, how are the wedding plans coming?” Adam asked Claire.
Dylan’s attention jerked toward his teammate.
Seriously? These guys liked to smash other men into the boards during intense hockey games. They chased criminals and ran multimillion-dollar companies. Were they really going to talk about wedding planning like those people on reality TV shows?
“I’ve barely started,” Claire said. “There’s not much to choose from in Spruce Bay, Alaska. Luckily we have the internet. But I am shopping for my dress and all my accessories while I’m here.”
“I’ve got a list of the best places,” Serena promised. “Maybe we can go together?”
“Oh, I’d love that.” She turned to Cassie. “You should come, too. It would be more fun with three.”
“Sure. Why not?”
Dylan started to feel the way he knew his tux would feel for Adam’s wedding. As if the collar was too tight and he was slowly choking.
Luckily the wine bar condescended to serve beer. And the gourmet burger wasn’t bad.
Once they got off wedding talk, the evening was surprisingly fun. He felt the muscle exhaustion from a good workout, the company of good people, and there was a lot of laughter and joking around as they settled in and relaxed.
After they’d finished, Serena said, “I hate to break up the party, but I’ve got an early meeting.” She was giving a coaching presentation in Seattle and also had a book signing planned.
Adam and Max had driven in together in Max’s car, so Adam said, “I’ll come with you.”
“Do you mind dropping me off?” Cassie asked.
“Of course.” Then he realized the girls had also driven in together.
Even before Adam shot him the glance of a man who was going to be deprived of his sexy fiancée for a whole day and couldn’t waste a single minute, he was already saying, “I can drive you home, Cassie. It’s on my way.”
“Oh.” He got the sudden feeling she wished she’d brought her own ride. “Well, if you’re sure.”
The three couples all drifted to their cars and shouted out good-nights.
He opened the passenger door for Cassie because it made him feel like a jerk not to. She flashed him a smile and had to step up into the truck, which made her black skirt rise, giving him a nice glimpse of thigh.
He saw her settled, then banged the truck door shut and rounded to his own side. Be cool, he said to himself. Don’t mention the kiss and everything will go back to normal.
8
BE A GROWN-UP, Cassie said to herself as she waited for Dylan to get into the truck. This was the perfect opportunity to talk to him about that kiss. To clear the air. They’d get through a couple of awkward minutes and then they could return to the easy work relationship they’d shared.
He started up the truck, backed out of the space and as he headed forward said, “You know what I was thinking?”
Oh, good, she thought. He was going to bring up the kiss. “What were you thinking?”
“That we should move the dishwasher.”
“Move the dishwasher?” That’s what he wanted to talk about? They’d all but had a date tonight, had been strained with each other since that crazy kiss, and he wanted to talk about moving a dishwasher?
But, of course, the house reno was her baby. Right now the location of her dishwasher actually was more vital than the meaning of one kiss. If he’d planned to derail her—and he probably had—he couldn’t have picked a better topic. “Where do you want to move it?”
In the dim light she caught the flash of his teeth. “Not out of the kitchen or anything. I was thinking that if we situated it on the left of the sink instead of the right then it ends up closer to the cupboards and the cutlery drawer. Might be more efficient.”
She pulled up the kitchen design as though she’d loaded a CAD program into her brain. Nodded enthusiastically then, realizing he had his eyes on the road, said, “Yes. I think that’s a really good idea.”
“You know, you’re an easy person to work for. You’re open to new ideas. You’d be surprised how many people want to put everything back exactly the way it was. Drives me nuts.”
“Sometimes change is good.”
There was silence for a few moments. He fiddled with the music. Found an oldies station that was playing Marvin Gaye. Did Dylan even notice that Marvin was crooning about sexual feelings?
“I think I found some cork flooring I like.”
He nodded. As though he’d expected she’d take that suggestion, as well. Well, he might be a little full of himself but damn, he was good.
Various flooring surfaces kept them occupied until he pulled into her drive. She turned to thank him for driving her home and found him looking at her mouth. She didn’t think he’d intended it, more that his gaze had strayed there and got stuck.
Oh, the heck with it. If two intelligent women like Claire and Serena thought she should bring up the other night, then she figured she’d better take their advice just as she took Dylan’s advice on renos. Heaven knew both women were more successful with relationships than she was.
“Dylan.”
“Mmm?”
“About that kiss the other day...”
His gaze jerked up to hers. “That was a mistake,” he said quickly.
She felt stung. All she’d wanted to do was clear the air. “It was?” she said before she could prevent the words from escaping.
“No.” He shook his head as though he found the whole thing as confusing as she did. “It was great. I mean, you’re amazing. It’s just that—”
“You’re working for me.”
“Exactly.” He flicked off his seat belt. Moved a little closer.
If this wasn’t the most ridiculous conversation she’d ever had. She unclicked her own seat belt. “Me kissing you could be construed as sexual harassment in the workplace.”
“Just what I was thinking,” he agreed, his big, burn-scarred hand moving to cup the back of her head.
“How do we handle that?”
“Probably best if I kiss you.”
“I think that’s a good—” She never finished the sentence. His mouth closed over the word idea, taking that and any other idea she might have had right out of her head. She leaned into his warmth, unable to prevent the longing she’d felt ever since they’d first touched. He was so warm, so solid, so damned sexy. She felt the strength of his muscles, and when he took over her mouth she felt the dash of recklessness that would prevent this man from ever being called dull.
At least this time she wasn’t splashed with dirty water from washing walls. Her hair was styled; she wore makeup and her going-out clothes. He smelled of clean male and whatever he’d used for his postgame shower. Some kind of shower gel that smelled like eucalyptus. And underneath that she smelled him. His skin, his hot, sexy self.
She sighed as she gave in to sensation. As discussions went they hadn’t exactly had one, but at the moment she really didn’t care. He was kissing her and she realized how much she wanted to be kissed by this capable, exciting man.
He touched her in all the right places, treating her body with delicacy, not grabbing and groping. Oh, this man knew his way around a woman’s body and she suddenly knew that she wanted him to have all of it. And soon.
He pulled slowly back, breathing a little heavily. “Well.”
She tried to push her hair back into place but it was hopeless. She licked her already wet lips. “Would you like to see the new duvet cover I bought for the bedroom? It looks so good with the wall color and the chandelier you put up for me.”
He eased back a little, his eyes glinting. “That wouldn’t be more sexual harassment, would it, boss?”
“Do you want it to be?” Her words sounded heavy, almost as heavy as the feelings pooling in her belly.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Come on, then.” She pushed open her door and jumped down. He turned off the truck engine and followed her. She almost fumbled the key in the lock, she was so full of anticipation—and maybe a touch of nervousness. What if it was awful? What if he—or she—was disappointed? Then they’d have to work together and it could be even more awkward. What if he thought this was a hookup?
What if he didn’t?
Oh, no wonder she was no good at relationships, she chided herself as she started up the stairs, feeling him behind her, as hot as her fantasies. If she started worrying about consequences before she’d even done anything, they’d both end up disappointed.
Then they reached the top of the stairs and he pulled her back against him, kissing the back of her neck so she shivered.
Consequences?
Disappointment?
Not an option.
She flipped on the chandelier as she entered, taking a moment even through the haze of lust to enjoy the new space. The chandelier sparkled like something out of a fairy tale, casting soft light on the blue-and-yellow duvet cover. The soft blue walls were perfect. She’d bought cushions in blue and yellow and then thrown caution to the wind and added a couple in French-country fabrics. They didn’t match the bedspread but they pulled the room together, as an HGTV decorator would say.
The side tables were mismatched pieces she’d bought at a Goodwill store years ago and painted white. Shabby chic. She still liked them. She was waiting on artwork and the headboard until she found the perfect pieces. She wasn’t in a rush; she’d have this house for a long, long time.
“It looks fantastic,” he said, duly admiring the room. “I’ll get onto your en suite as soon as we finish the main bathroom and the kitchen.”
She nodded. Then realized that as much as she loved her new chandelier, she did not want to make love under its somewhat merciless gaze. Crossing to the bedside table, she flicked on one of the crystal lamps that had belonged to her grandmother.
He didn’t comment, merely flipped off the overhead switch so the room immediately became more dimly lit. For a second she was sorry, realizing that if he couldn’t see her completely clearly, the same would be true for her—and she really wanted to see him in all his glorious detail.
She was about to have Mr. June in her bed.
For a moment she felt the grip of uncertainty. What had she done? Or, more correctly, what was she contemplating doing? If one kiss had made her and her contractor handyman strained around each other, what would full intimacy do?
As she turned to him, wondering if she should call the evening off, she found him already in front of her. The man moved like the cat.
He pulled her against him so she bumped chest to chest, feeling his strength once more. All it took was one touch and her worries disappeared. He had enough sureness for both of them.
He tipped back her head, taking full advantage of her mouth, kissing her as though all he’d ever wanted in the entirety of his life was to kiss her. She was moving from zero to supersonic way too fast. She felt the surge of lust take her and toss her as he moved his mouth on hers, teasing her with his tongue. She could taste beer and hot, healthy male. As he pushed his body against hers, she amended that to hot, healthy, thoroughly aroused male.
She threw her arms around him and began to rub her hands down his back, enjoying the feel of his strong muscles enticing her beneath his shirt.
Before she could plunge her hands beneath the cotton to the hot skin, he eased her silky top over her head, so she had to release him long enough to get her hands up. Her skin was so sensitive she felt the slide of fabric like a caress.
Even though she wanted to put her hands under his shirt so badly they tingled, he held her away from him, his gaze devouring her breasts in the going-out underwear she was so glad she’d worn. She’d have to remember to thank Serena for that last trip they’d taken to Victoria’s Secret, when her friend had pretty much forced her to buy lacy nonsense even though she didn’t have anyone to wear it for.
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