overdrive; it was that…hair. Now, Tarrah had never really been into redheads before, but damn, she sure as hell would be willing to convert. It was short with just a bit of curl to it and styled in a handsome business cut.
Shaking her head, Tarrah scanned down. His body was dusted in freckles. Tarrah knew because she could see a bit creeping out from the top of his shirt. They dotted his neck and lightly coated his face, concentrating around his nose and forehead. She idly wondered if those freckles were all over his body, but his clothes covered way too much to tell.
Damned shirt.
Still, the navy checkered number he wore under his carpenter jacket accentuated his frame quite nicely. She could tell he was built, but again, the clothing covered far too much.
“Are you okay?”
Tarrah’s head shot up. What was she doing? She was ogling this guy like a fat kid in a cake factory. She had Swanson to look forward to later and this was completely inappropriate behavior. “Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.”
His eyes widened. “Your head.”
Tarrah brought her hand to her brow, and felt a hot, sticky substance. Pulling away, she saw blood coating her fingertips.
The stranger rushed over, ripped his jacket down his arms, and began unbuttoning his checkered shirt.
Tarrah no longer cared about inappropriate behavior as she watched the man strip himself down.
He finished unbuttoning, leaving on nothing but a white ribbed tank shirt.
There were more freckles. The images floated though her head, biting and licking his speckled, muscular frame. She forcibly made her lip fall from in between the grip of her teeth as she watched the stranger close the gap between them and dab at her head.
She closed her eyes. He smelled like pure heaven, his body lightly coated in an earthy, musky cologne. He wore just enough to set her blood ablaze.
“It doesn’t look that bad.”
She flinched as his dabbing hit a sensitive spot.
He gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
Her eyes scanned his sapphire blues and there was complete silence between the two of them.
He pulled the shirt from her head slowly, his eyes not leaving hers. He held out the shirt to her. “Would you like to do it?”
She squinted. What did he mean by “do it”? She shook her head. Oh, shit. He means the cloth . “Um, sure.” She grabbed the shirt from him, averting her eyes as she walked away in awkwardness.
“We probably should figure out a way to get out of here and call the cops.”
Oh, yeah. They were just in the middle of a robbery a moment ago.
She turned to see him scanning the room and quickly discovered what he did—there were no windows to exit from. Tarrah took in their environment of holiday decorations and partially consumed food. “Looks like we’re in a break room. They probably don’t want the employees escaping.” She laughed. How lame am I?
He chuckled, revealing a wonderful smile when he did. “Right. We could try another room?”
Tarrah grew nervous. She didn’t want to go back out there. She could be shot, but she didn’t want to be left alone in here, either. She followed him to the door.
He jiggled the handle. “It’s locked.”
“One of the tellers must have pressed a silent alarm. We must be on lockdown.”
He nodded. “Do you have a cell phone? I left everything in the car but my wallet. I wasn’t intending on coming in here today.”
She shook her head. “Same here.”
He put his hands on his hips. “Well, aren’t we a pair?”
She bit her lip. God, he was handsome.
“Looks like we’ll just have to sweat it out, huh?”
Tarrah could think of worse things than spending a few hours with a handsome stranger, but then she recalled her previous engagement and really could think of something better she could be doing. It made her heart sink at the thought.
Chapter Four
“So what’s your name?” the stranger asked.
Tarrah pulled his shirt away from her head and held out her hand. “Tarrah. Tarrah
Shaking her head, Tarrah scanned down. His body was dusted in freckles. Tarrah knew because she could see a bit creeping out from the top of his shirt. They dotted his neck and lightly coated his face, concentrating around his nose and forehead. She idly wondered if those freckles were all over his body, but his clothes covered way too much to tell.
Damned shirt.
Still, the navy checkered number he wore under his carpenter jacket accentuated his frame quite nicely. She could tell he was built, but again, the clothing covered far too much.
“Are you okay?”
Tarrah’s head shot up. What was she doing? She was ogling this guy like a fat kid in a cake factory. She had Swanson to look forward to later and this was completely inappropriate behavior. “Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.”
His eyes widened. “Your head.”
Tarrah brought her hand to her brow, and felt a hot, sticky substance. Pulling away, she saw blood coating her fingertips.
The stranger rushed over, ripped his jacket down his arms, and began unbuttoning his checkered shirt.
Tarrah no longer cared about inappropriate behavior as she watched the man strip himself down.
He finished unbuttoning, leaving on nothing but a white ribbed tank shirt.
There were more freckles. The images floated though her head, biting and licking his speckled, muscular frame. She forcibly made her lip fall from in between the grip of her teeth as she watched the stranger close the gap between them and dab at her head.
She closed her eyes. He smelled like pure heaven, his body lightly coated in an earthy, musky cologne. He wore just enough to set her blood ablaze.
“It doesn’t look that bad.”
She flinched as his dabbing hit a sensitive spot.
He gave her an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
Her eyes scanned his sapphire blues and there was complete silence between the two of them.
He pulled the shirt from her head slowly, his eyes not leaving hers. He held out the shirt to her. “Would you like to do it?”
She squinted. What did he mean by “do it”? She shook her head. Oh, shit. He means the cloth . “Um, sure.” She grabbed the shirt from him, averting her eyes as she walked away in awkwardness.
“We probably should figure out a way to get out of here and call the cops.”
Oh, yeah. They were just in the middle of a robbery a moment ago.
She turned to see him scanning the room and quickly discovered what he did—there were no windows to exit from. Tarrah took in their environment of holiday decorations and partially consumed food. “Looks like we’re in a break room. They probably don’t want the employees escaping.” She laughed. How lame am I?
He chuckled, revealing a wonderful smile when he did. “Right. We could try another room?”
Tarrah grew nervous. She didn’t want to go back out there. She could be shot, but she didn’t want to be left alone in here, either. She followed him to the door.
He jiggled the handle. “It’s locked.”
“One of the tellers must have pressed a silent alarm. We must be on lockdown.”
He nodded. “Do you have a cell phone? I left everything in the car but my wallet. I wasn’t intending on coming in here today.”
She shook her head. “Same here.”
He put his hands on his hips. “Well, aren’t we a pair?”
She bit her lip. God, he was handsome.
“Looks like we’ll just have to sweat it out, huh?”
Tarrah could think of worse things than spending a few hours with a handsome stranger, but then she recalled her previous engagement and really could think of something better she could be doing. It made her heart sink at the thought.
Chapter Four
“So what’s your name?” the stranger asked.
Tarrah pulled his shirt away from her head and held out her hand. “Tarrah. Tarrah
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