flushed in your smart business suits and
sensible heels, the testosterone levels spike.”
Lust clawing at her core, Ann swallowed the need to ask if his testosterone spiked when he saw her. She shifted in her seat, hoping to dull
the burning need coursing through her.
Joe moved back to the counter, cut another piece of
cheesecake and set it in front of her. “You could use this.”
“I can’t.” Ann pushed the plate away.
“Why? It’s your favorite.” Joe sat. “Did you have a big
dinner?”
“No, Scott took me to that new raw food place.” Sighing, she
rubbed at a wrinkle creasing the vintage lace tablecloth covering the old
drop-leaf table.
“Pussy. A real man would’ve taken you out for a steak.”
Talking about her bad date steadied her overactive hormones.
“I would have settled for a salad on a plate bigger than a teacup saucer.”
The dimple on his right cheek winked at her. “So, dinner was
a bust.” He wiggled his sexy eyebrows. “What about conversation with Scott’s
shirt on?”
“If you don’t mind hearing about how wonderful his ex was
and how if I lost thirty pounds I would be as hot as she was, it was fine.”
Frowning, he grabbed a plate of cheesecake and jabbed his
fork into it. “You’re fine just the way you are.”
“Scott didn’t seem to think so.” Ann rubbed a hand over her
belly. “For two hours I had to listen to how much better-looking I would be if
I stayed away from carbs and worked out more.”
The fork Joe held in his large hand clattered against the
Fiestaware plate. “When he comes into the gym on Monday, I’m going to kick his
ass.”
For the first time since she got home, Ann relaxed. “Don’t
do that. We need his business.”
“Fuck his business.” Joe tapped her plate. “Eat up.
Cheesecake has protein and calcium.”
“Make sure you tell my hips that in the morning.”
“It can’t be all bad.” Lifting his arms, Joe stood. “I eat a
piece every day and look at me.”
Her gaze roamed over all six-foot-two inches of his finely
honed frame. She poked her finger into the whipped cream topping of the
cheesecake as her stomach clenched—as it did every time she set eyes on him and
his mega-muscles. “Aren’t you cold without a shirt?”
“Not with you around.” Handing Ann a fork, Joe folded
himself into the chair across from her and dug into his cake.
Ann rolled her eyes. “Oh, whatever.” The man turned eating
dessert into a sexual experience. If her pussy got any wetter, there would be a
spot on her seat cushion. “God, I need a drink.”
“We have margarita mix and a new bottle of tequila.”
Maybe Cuervo would numb her desires and dry up her panties.
“Sounds good to me.” Ann dipped her fork into the creamy confection and took a
bite.
“You got it.” Joe rose and winced.
Alarms rang in her head. The last time he’d showed any sign
of discomfort he’d ruptured a nut lifting a barbell off some dumbass who
thought he could bench press more than the world-record holder. “Are you all
right?”
“I’m fine,” he said, turning toward the pantry.
“Did you move the wrong way and pull something?”
“I’m fine.” He grabbed the tequila and lime mix. “It’s
nothing some time in the shower won’t fix.”
Concerned now, Ann rose and hurried the short distance to
Joe. “The last time you moved like that I had to rush you to the ER and you
needed surgery.”
Her head spun at the memory. “Oh God, Joe, you need to sit.”
She snatched the bottles from him and set them on the counter. “Did you overdo
it at the gym again? Did you aggravate your hernia?” Ann took his arm and
tugged him to a kitchen chair.
He flushed, gripped her shoulders and gave her a little
shake. “If you don’t take a breath you’re going to faint like you did in the ER
when they were wheeling me off to the OR.”
The warmth from his hands seeped into her bones, reassuring
her. Ann sucked air between her clenched teeth and stared at
sensible heels, the testosterone levels spike.”
Lust clawing at her core, Ann swallowed the need to ask if his testosterone spiked when he saw her. She shifted in her seat, hoping to dull
the burning need coursing through her.
Joe moved back to the counter, cut another piece of
cheesecake and set it in front of her. “You could use this.”
“I can’t.” Ann pushed the plate away.
“Why? It’s your favorite.” Joe sat. “Did you have a big
dinner?”
“No, Scott took me to that new raw food place.” Sighing, she
rubbed at a wrinkle creasing the vintage lace tablecloth covering the old
drop-leaf table.
“Pussy. A real man would’ve taken you out for a steak.”
Talking about her bad date steadied her overactive hormones.
“I would have settled for a salad on a plate bigger than a teacup saucer.”
The dimple on his right cheek winked at her. “So, dinner was
a bust.” He wiggled his sexy eyebrows. “What about conversation with Scott’s
shirt on?”
“If you don’t mind hearing about how wonderful his ex was
and how if I lost thirty pounds I would be as hot as she was, it was fine.”
Frowning, he grabbed a plate of cheesecake and jabbed his
fork into it. “You’re fine just the way you are.”
“Scott didn’t seem to think so.” Ann rubbed a hand over her
belly. “For two hours I had to listen to how much better-looking I would be if
I stayed away from carbs and worked out more.”
The fork Joe held in his large hand clattered against the
Fiestaware plate. “When he comes into the gym on Monday, I’m going to kick his
ass.”
For the first time since she got home, Ann relaxed. “Don’t
do that. We need his business.”
“Fuck his business.” Joe tapped her plate. “Eat up.
Cheesecake has protein and calcium.”
“Make sure you tell my hips that in the morning.”
“It can’t be all bad.” Lifting his arms, Joe stood. “I eat a
piece every day and look at me.”
Her gaze roamed over all six-foot-two inches of his finely
honed frame. She poked her finger into the whipped cream topping of the
cheesecake as her stomach clenched—as it did every time she set eyes on him and
his mega-muscles. “Aren’t you cold without a shirt?”
“Not with you around.” Handing Ann a fork, Joe folded
himself into the chair across from her and dug into his cake.
Ann rolled her eyes. “Oh, whatever.” The man turned eating
dessert into a sexual experience. If her pussy got any wetter, there would be a
spot on her seat cushion. “God, I need a drink.”
“We have margarita mix and a new bottle of tequila.”
Maybe Cuervo would numb her desires and dry up her panties.
“Sounds good to me.” Ann dipped her fork into the creamy confection and took a
bite.
“You got it.” Joe rose and winced.
Alarms rang in her head. The last time he’d showed any sign
of discomfort he’d ruptured a nut lifting a barbell off some dumbass who
thought he could bench press more than the world-record holder. “Are you all
right?”
“I’m fine,” he said, turning toward the pantry.
“Did you move the wrong way and pull something?”
“I’m fine.” He grabbed the tequila and lime mix. “It’s
nothing some time in the shower won’t fix.”
Concerned now, Ann rose and hurried the short distance to
Joe. “The last time you moved like that I had to rush you to the ER and you
needed surgery.”
Her head spun at the memory. “Oh God, Joe, you need to sit.”
She snatched the bottles from him and set them on the counter. “Did you overdo
it at the gym again? Did you aggravate your hernia?” Ann took his arm and
tugged him to a kitchen chair.
He flushed, gripped her shoulders and gave her a little
shake. “If you don’t take a breath you’re going to faint like you did in the ER
when they were wheeling me off to the OR.”
The warmth from his hands seeped into her bones, reassuring
her. Ann sucked air between her clenched teeth and stared at
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