protest, he settled her atop his drawing table, next to a pile of sketches. “Ankle?”
“Knee. It’s throbbing but I’m sure it’s fine.”
Joe stooped, rolling up the left leg of her baggy overalls. Hard not to admire her toned creamy calf. Even harder to resist exploring her thigh. Somehow he managed to focus on the knee. “Swollen and bruised. You’re walking on it, so I doubt there’s serious damage but I can’t be sure. I should take you to a doctor.”
“For a bad boy, you sure are a worrywart. I don’t need a doctor. Honest.” She combed her fingers through his hair and cradled the back of his head. The tender and soothing gesture hugged his heart and sparked desire.
Rarely was Joe taken off guard. Bella blindsided him with the force of a speeding train.
“These drawings,” she said, referring to latest renderings. “They’re amazing.”
He reached back and palmed her hand briefly before rising, scrambling to make sense of this whirlwind infatuation. Thankfully her gaze was fixed on various mock-ups for three potential customers.
“It’s a hobby,” he said. “Was a hobby. I’m hoping to develop a lucrative business.”
“Skulls, flames, wolves, silhouettes of naked women. They’re quite…masculine.”
Since she wasn’t looking at him, Joe smiled, amused by her polite description of his graphic sketches. “Appropriate, considering my clients are men. I custom airbrush art on motorcycles, cars, and trucks.”
“Oh.” She met his gaze. “That scenario never crossed my mind.”
“Why would it?”
“Ever dabble on the lighter side? Unicorns? Rainbows? Sparkly castles?”
“A little out of my realm.” He didn’t have it in him. Life, his experiences and observances, had been too morbid.
“Maybe you should broaden your horizons.”
“Sparkly castles on fuel tanks?”
“Surely your art isn’t restricted to cars and bikes.”
“That and tats.”
“You’re not inked. At least I didn’t notice any tattoos when you were shirtless yesterday. Not that I was looking.”
Her flushing cheeks said otherwise. A nice girl , Joe thought. A girl who asked for a kiss instead of initiating one . A girl who lacked seduction skills and feared herself frigid . The fact that she ran hot for Joe was massive turn-on. He helped her off the table, his hands lingering at her waist as he set her on the floor. Another kiss would be nice. Being inside her would be even better. “The tattoos I mocked up were for other people, not me,” he said, tearing his mind from the gutter. “Given my past profession, I avoided distinguishing marks.”
She perked up at that. “What did you use to do?”
“Collar criminals.” No sense in lying. McClure knew and he’d probably tell his sister who would in turn tell Bella. “I worked undercover for the Chicago Police Department.”
Bella gaped—a candid mix of surprise and awe. “Wow. Were we wrong about you? My friends and I,” she added. “We’d pegged you as a bad boy.”
Joe tucked her windblown hair behind her ears. “Oh, I’m bad, sweetheart. Trust me. I wouldn’t have gotten to where I am otherwise. But that’s not a story for anyone’s ears.”
* * *
Bella’s heart screamed, “ Told you .” She’d sensed he was a good man. But he was far more than that. Savage was one of the good guys. A warrior who protected and defended. A man who battled evil. If he’d worked undercover that meant he’d mixed with dubious sorts. Surely a certain amount of suspect behavior was required in order to blend with hoodlums. She was bursting with questions. Questions she held at bay. She well understood not wanting to discuss uncomfortable issues. She danced around them all the time. So did her dad. He hadn’t even told her about settling his debt with Savage—something that must have dinged his pride big time.
“So,” she said, steering the conversation somewhere new. “What’s in the boxes? How can I help?”
She tried not to limp as
“Knee. It’s throbbing but I’m sure it’s fine.”
Joe stooped, rolling up the left leg of her baggy overalls. Hard not to admire her toned creamy calf. Even harder to resist exploring her thigh. Somehow he managed to focus on the knee. “Swollen and bruised. You’re walking on it, so I doubt there’s serious damage but I can’t be sure. I should take you to a doctor.”
“For a bad boy, you sure are a worrywart. I don’t need a doctor. Honest.” She combed her fingers through his hair and cradled the back of his head. The tender and soothing gesture hugged his heart and sparked desire.
Rarely was Joe taken off guard. Bella blindsided him with the force of a speeding train.
“These drawings,” she said, referring to latest renderings. “They’re amazing.”
He reached back and palmed her hand briefly before rising, scrambling to make sense of this whirlwind infatuation. Thankfully her gaze was fixed on various mock-ups for three potential customers.
“It’s a hobby,” he said. “Was a hobby. I’m hoping to develop a lucrative business.”
“Skulls, flames, wolves, silhouettes of naked women. They’re quite…masculine.”
Since she wasn’t looking at him, Joe smiled, amused by her polite description of his graphic sketches. “Appropriate, considering my clients are men. I custom airbrush art on motorcycles, cars, and trucks.”
“Oh.” She met his gaze. “That scenario never crossed my mind.”
“Why would it?”
“Ever dabble on the lighter side? Unicorns? Rainbows? Sparkly castles?”
“A little out of my realm.” He didn’t have it in him. Life, his experiences and observances, had been too morbid.
“Maybe you should broaden your horizons.”
“Sparkly castles on fuel tanks?”
“Surely your art isn’t restricted to cars and bikes.”
“That and tats.”
“You’re not inked. At least I didn’t notice any tattoos when you were shirtless yesterday. Not that I was looking.”
Her flushing cheeks said otherwise. A nice girl , Joe thought. A girl who asked for a kiss instead of initiating one . A girl who lacked seduction skills and feared herself frigid . The fact that she ran hot for Joe was massive turn-on. He helped her off the table, his hands lingering at her waist as he set her on the floor. Another kiss would be nice. Being inside her would be even better. “The tattoos I mocked up were for other people, not me,” he said, tearing his mind from the gutter. “Given my past profession, I avoided distinguishing marks.”
She perked up at that. “What did you use to do?”
“Collar criminals.” No sense in lying. McClure knew and he’d probably tell his sister who would in turn tell Bella. “I worked undercover for the Chicago Police Department.”
Bella gaped—a candid mix of surprise and awe. “Wow. Were we wrong about you? My friends and I,” she added. “We’d pegged you as a bad boy.”
Joe tucked her windblown hair behind her ears. “Oh, I’m bad, sweetheart. Trust me. I wouldn’t have gotten to where I am otherwise. But that’s not a story for anyone’s ears.”
* * *
Bella’s heart screamed, “ Told you .” She’d sensed he was a good man. But he was far more than that. Savage was one of the good guys. A warrior who protected and defended. A man who battled evil. If he’d worked undercover that meant he’d mixed with dubious sorts. Surely a certain amount of suspect behavior was required in order to blend with hoodlums. She was bursting with questions. Questions she held at bay. She well understood not wanting to discuss uncomfortable issues. She danced around them all the time. So did her dad. He hadn’t even told her about settling his debt with Savage—something that must have dinged his pride big time.
“So,” she said, steering the conversation somewhere new. “What’s in the boxes? How can I help?”
She tried not to limp as
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