sexy.
“Oh, okay,” I muttered.
Way to go. Bowl him over with your wit, Kate .
I finally gathered the courage to look up at him. He was tall. He pushed his dark hair back from his face and stared down at me with intense brown eyes. His lips curved upwards a little, as if he found me amusing.
Irritated, I stood up a little straighter and tossed my hair, which wasn’t very effective as I had scraped it back in a ponytail this morning.
“Thank you for your help,” I said in a stiff and formal voice. “I think I can manage from here.”
His soft brown eyes travelled the length of my body and back up slowly. “You look … very capable,” he said.
Dammit, that voice made my insides melt. How could his voice alone have such an effect on me? Was I really that desperate?
Before I could react, he reached his hand down to my backside and ran his fingers across it. “You’ve got a little dust on your pants from the gravel.”
My cheeks flamed. So he had seen me fall on my ass. Great.
I stepped back, out of his reach. “Thank you, but I can do that myself,” I said, craning my neck to try to see the dirt on my behind and swatting at the dusty marks.
“Are you sure?” he asked in a sexy drawl, leaning against the side of my beat up truck. “I really don’t mind helping.”
I stopped wiping the dust from my jeans, transfixed by his voice. Talk about a loaded question. I bit my lower lip.
“Come here,” he said. His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the command in his tone.
Something warned me he was dangerous. A spark in the back of my mind, warning me not to get too close, or I would get burned. I was sure this man had lots of notches on his bed post. Probably the love them and leave them type. That wasn’t for me. I didn’t do quick flings.
Despite the warning bells ringing in my ears, I inched forward.
He smiled, and I felt the butterflies in my stomach start to do the rumba. Holy crap, what was I doing?
He took my hand, his fingers cool against mine, and then turned me around so my back was facing him. He pushed my upper body gently but firmly forward, so my butt tilted towards him.
“Hmm.” The timbre of his voice sent pleasurable shivers along my spine.
I felt silly and vulnerable and wanted to straighten up, but he held me in position. I knew he was going to put his hands on my ass and I tingled in anticipation. Images flooded my brain, picturing myself bent over in front of him, naked. My breathing grew fast and shallow.
He ran his hand over my backside. Slowly. He wasn’t brushing off the dust. He was feeling me up, and God help me, I loved it. I wanted to push him down on the bed of the truck and let him stroke me all over.
My breath caught in my throat, and I pulled away. What was I doing?
He let me straighten up and turn to face him, but he didn’t let go of my wrist. His eyes burned down into mine, and I was pretty sure he was turned on. I briefly fantasised about getting in my truck and driving him some place quiet and letting him run those strong hands anywhere he wanted…
“So you’re the artist?” he said, his face now a mask of professional friendliness.
“Huh?” Maybe I’d misread the signals. Maybe I’d projected my lust onto him. “Um, yes. I’m the artist doing the restoration work.”
“How’s it going?”
I took a deep breath, surprised at the sudden change in direction. My brain struggled to arrange a coherent sentence. “Quite well. It was a tough job, but I hope to be finished in a couple of days.”
“That’s great.” He smiled, showing off white teeth and a perfect mouth. Dammit, he was so good-looking.
“Perhaps you would like to look at the chapel?” he asked.
I frowned and shook my head, trying to focus and bury the erotic images that kept popping into my mind. “Sorry?”
“The ceiling in the chapel. It has a fresco by Juliaane Retour. I wondered if you’d seen it yet. It’s quite beautiful.”
I couldn’t take my eyes from
“Oh, okay,” I muttered.
Way to go. Bowl him over with your wit, Kate .
I finally gathered the courage to look up at him. He was tall. He pushed his dark hair back from his face and stared down at me with intense brown eyes. His lips curved upwards a little, as if he found me amusing.
Irritated, I stood up a little straighter and tossed my hair, which wasn’t very effective as I had scraped it back in a ponytail this morning.
“Thank you for your help,” I said in a stiff and formal voice. “I think I can manage from here.”
His soft brown eyes travelled the length of my body and back up slowly. “You look … very capable,” he said.
Dammit, that voice made my insides melt. How could his voice alone have such an effect on me? Was I really that desperate?
Before I could react, he reached his hand down to my backside and ran his fingers across it. “You’ve got a little dust on your pants from the gravel.”
My cheeks flamed. So he had seen me fall on my ass. Great.
I stepped back, out of his reach. “Thank you, but I can do that myself,” I said, craning my neck to try to see the dirt on my behind and swatting at the dusty marks.
“Are you sure?” he asked in a sexy drawl, leaning against the side of my beat up truck. “I really don’t mind helping.”
I stopped wiping the dust from my jeans, transfixed by his voice. Talk about a loaded question. I bit my lower lip.
“Come here,” he said. His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the command in his tone.
Something warned me he was dangerous. A spark in the back of my mind, warning me not to get too close, or I would get burned. I was sure this man had lots of notches on his bed post. Probably the love them and leave them type. That wasn’t for me. I didn’t do quick flings.
Despite the warning bells ringing in my ears, I inched forward.
He smiled, and I felt the butterflies in my stomach start to do the rumba. Holy crap, what was I doing?
He took my hand, his fingers cool against mine, and then turned me around so my back was facing him. He pushed my upper body gently but firmly forward, so my butt tilted towards him.
“Hmm.” The timbre of his voice sent pleasurable shivers along my spine.
I felt silly and vulnerable and wanted to straighten up, but he held me in position. I knew he was going to put his hands on my ass and I tingled in anticipation. Images flooded my brain, picturing myself bent over in front of him, naked. My breathing grew fast and shallow.
He ran his hand over my backside. Slowly. He wasn’t brushing off the dust. He was feeling me up, and God help me, I loved it. I wanted to push him down on the bed of the truck and let him stroke me all over.
My breath caught in my throat, and I pulled away. What was I doing?
He let me straighten up and turn to face him, but he didn’t let go of my wrist. His eyes burned down into mine, and I was pretty sure he was turned on. I briefly fantasised about getting in my truck and driving him some place quiet and letting him run those strong hands anywhere he wanted…
“So you’re the artist?” he said, his face now a mask of professional friendliness.
“Huh?” Maybe I’d misread the signals. Maybe I’d projected my lust onto him. “Um, yes. I’m the artist doing the restoration work.”
“How’s it going?”
I took a deep breath, surprised at the sudden change in direction. My brain struggled to arrange a coherent sentence. “Quite well. It was a tough job, but I hope to be finished in a couple of days.”
“That’s great.” He smiled, showing off white teeth and a perfect mouth. Dammit, he was so good-looking.
“Perhaps you would like to look at the chapel?” he asked.
I frowned and shook my head, trying to focus and bury the erotic images that kept popping into my mind. “Sorry?”
“The ceiling in the chapel. It has a fresco by Juliaane Retour. I wondered if you’d seen it yet. It’s quite beautiful.”
I couldn’t take my eyes from
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