Sweet Surprise by Candis Terry

like.”
    “I’ve got all day.” He snatched another cupcake from the tray and followed her into the front of the shop. She flipped on Izzy’s Hello Kitty radio.
    “All day for what?” She bent down, opened a can of scrumptious pink paint, and poured a splash into the tray. The movement exposed a creamy slice of skin between her top and the waistband of her jeans.
    “To listen,” he said.
    “It would only bore you.” Paint roller in hand, she nodded toward the cabinets he’d worked on yesterday. “Those look really nice. You have a lot of talent.”
    “So do you.” His boots thumped on the wood floor as he went to stand in front of her and block her way to the wall. “For changing the subject.”
    “I know.” She gave a little sigh that hinted of humor. “It’s a practice I learned long ago when I’d get caught sneaking out of my parents’ house.”
    “Rebellious teen?”
    “On occasion.”
    “I have a little knowledge of that myself.”
    “You were a rebel?” A smile brushed her lips. “I thought you had a bit of a pirate look about you.”
    He chuckled. Shook his head. “I tried to be good, so I didn’t cause my mother any trouble after my father died. She already had enough to deal with.”
    “Thoughtful consideration.” She smiled. “An honorable trait.”
    “You did notice I said tried. Right?”
    Her laughter danced across his skin.
    “You said you’re the only boy in your family?”
    He nodded.
    “Which means you probably tried to take on your father’s responsibilities at a young age.”
    “I guess you could say that.”
    “Would you also say you’re a cautious person?”
    “I wasn’t always,” he said. “But I am now.”
    “Me too.”
    He didn’t quite understand what that meant, but he wanted to find out. When she ducked around him and pressed her paint roller to the wall, he figured the subject was off-limits. And because he was a person who didn’t like to be pushed, he let it go. It wasn’t any of his business anyway. But that didn’t stop him from being curious as hell.
    For a few minutes, they worked in silence, the buzz of his electric saw the only sound in the room. Covertly, he watched her at her task. She was careful and precise. And every time she reached that roller brush up high, her shirt lifted and exposed a tasty little slice of skin beneath her tank top.
    Fiona was like one of those mystery packages you used to get from mail order. As soon as it arrived, you wanted to unwrap it quick to see what was inside. But if you were smart, you allowed yourself to savor the moment. Choosing instead to take your time and peel away each layer nice and slow.
    Mike had a feeling Fiona had many layers, each one more interesting than the next. Under any other circumstances, and if she were anyone but Fiona Wilder, he’d be very tempted to take a peek beneath all those remarkable tiers.
    He dropped his safety glasses down onto the bridge of his nose, then shifted his focus to the miter saw and the plank of MDF in his hands. He was hired help. And everyone with a brain knew the hired help didn’t mess with the boss.
    Not, at least, if he planned to keep the promise he’d made to himself.
    H e’d called her bela.
    Slip of tongue or something more?
    Fiona guessed it didn’t matter. Judging by the way the term of affection skittered across her skin and brought a greater sense of awareness of him, she had no choice but to assume the moment was entirely one-sided. Because, without a blink, he’d immediately immersed himself in the project at hand.
    Which is exactly what she needed to do.
    Focus.
    Her time frame with getting the shop together was limited. Which also meant so was her time with Mike and noticing how nice his biceps or that hint of a tattoo looked when he sawed a piece of wood. Or hammered a nail. Or how the leather belt that hung low on his hips from the weight of the tools drew her eye to his well-worn Levi’s, the frayed edges of the seams around the