“Awkward for me?” she asks, incredulous, closing the distance between us. “What about you? Pretty sure you were there too.”
I don’t even attempt to fight the crooked smile tugging at my lips. “And where might you be referring?”
Her blue eyes dart around the street. Dear God, she’s beautiful when she’s angry. I’ve only ever seen the woman tipsy and horny. And, well…embarrassed. She wouldn’t even spare me a glance the day of the wedding, a brush-off that still stings, to this day. “You know where,” she mutters.
“The dumpster?” I decide to just throw it out there—the elephant. I’ve never been one for beating around the bush.
“Shh,” she hisses, balling her fists at her sides. I swear if she purses those little lips any tighter, she’s gonna have smoker lines she’ll never be able to get rid of. I almost tell her as much but decide I shouldn’t poke the bear…not yet, anyway.
“Listen,” I say, backtracking to try to smooth things over. “I had no idea that it was your family who owned this place, but I’ve already agreed to the job. For whatever reason, Beau and Kate went through a whole lotta trouble to make this happen. I’m sure their motivation wasn’t entirely innocent, but from what I can see, you’re not exactly drowning in options. I’m certain we can both be adult enough to put one night of hot se—”
“Stop!” she snaps, her slender index finger landing at my lips. “That’s enough.” Frazzled, she smooths down the front of her skirt and takes a step back. “I guess you can keep the job…just—” Her perky tits rise and fall with a deep breath, and I try not to stare. “Just don’t bring up that…situation…ever again. Mmmkay?”
I shift myself, trying to hide the growing situation in my pants. “I’ll do my best.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that my…situation…sometimes has a mind of its own.” I shrug and try to look innocent.
Even she isn’t able to resist a quick grin at my clever retort.
“Whatever,” she sighs, sticking out her hand for a shake. “Try and behave yourself, yeah?”
An unexpected thrill jolts through me at the brief contact of her silky-smooth hand in mine. “Like I said,” I rasp, already losing the battle, “I’ll do my best.”
I give myself a final once-over, touching up my pale pink lipstick and passing a brush through my long strawberry blonde locks before heading back downstairs. With an appointment in ten minutes I still need to prepare for, I have little choice but to come out of hiding.
I can do this. I can totally put my humiliation aside and work with this man, if it means saving my parents’ business. And my own job. I really don’t have a choice, seeing how I’m the one who put them in this predicament to begin with.
So what if he’s hotter than sin?
Who cares that his syrupy drawl sends all of the blood in my body rushing to my lady bits?
I live right upstairs. I can sneak away for panty changes throughout the day as needed. Hell, I’ll just stuff an extra pair into my front pocket right now to be safe.
Yup, I think to myself, running my hand along the oak banister as I navigate the ornate staircase down to the business floor. Whitney, girl—you’ve got this—
“Hey, Whit!” Sin wrapped in a cotton tee and light wash denim greets me with a grin that sends me tripping over my own feet, right into his arms—his massive, masculine arms.
I so don’t got this! My grip tightens around his bicep. Solid—not overly muscled. He isn’t one of those gymheads, but an honest to goodness, hard-working virile male.
I take a deep inhale before removing myself from his hold. He smells of wood and leather, and my pheromones like it—a lot.
“I’m fine,” I insist, righting myself. Jesus, did it just get hot in here?
He takes a step back, palms out. “Just trying to help.”
“And I appreciate it,” I snap tartly, fully aware that I’m sounding like a complete shrew but seemingly unable to help my reaction to this man—inward or outward.
“You look beautiful,” he offers as he observes me fiddling with my clothes and hair in the framed mirror behind him.
“Don’t.” I even out my breathing to the best of my ability and fan my face to alleviate some of the flush from my cheeks.
“What have I done to offend you now?” he asks, still doing a shit job at hiding his amusement. “Was it that I dared to save you from falling on your ass? Or my complimenting the appearance you’re fussing over needlessly?”
I shut my eyes and take a deep breath, swallowing some of my pride. “Why do you find this so funny?”
“Because it’s been over two years and you’re being ridiculous.”
I grit my teeth. “What the hell does it matter how long it’s been?” The memory is still as fresh as if it was yesterday. The cool metal of the bin pressing into my back while he thrusts mercilessly…
“Just let the memory play. Get it all out of your system, mon chérie.”
I stand up straighter. Did he just call me his dear? He has a lot of freaking nerve. Damn if I don’t want to slap that cocky smirk off his ruggedly handsome face. To feel that scruff between my thi… No. No, Whitney. Stop this shit right now. “I don’t want to talk about it; and just to be clear, I’m not your anything.”
“I think we need to”—he brushes a lock of hair off my shoulder, his gentle fingers trailing along the nape of my neck—“clear the air.”
A shiver reverberates through me, and I fight the urge to purr. I’m a mess…a wanton hussy.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Whitney.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and I find myself mimicking the act. “I won’t lie and say I’m not crazy attracted to you, but I’m a professional. I’m here to do a job.”
“As am I.”
He nods, brushing a thumb over his lower lip. Is every move this guy makes just naturally arousing, or is he screwing with me? “No need to be ashamed of the chemistry lingering between us. We fucked.” He shrugs. “It happens.”
Definitely screwing with me.
He moves closer, but I’m too shocked to back away. “We were two consenting adults. It’s not like I plan to maul you against a casket.”
Is that a shudder? A break in his confident demeanor? I shake out of my stupor enough to regain some of my wits. If he’s going to play, then so can I.
“No?” I ask, running a hand over his chest. “Suddenly you have standards?”
He shrugs, playing it off, but I know what I saw just now. A crack in his armor. I latch onto that weakness like my dignity depends on it. “I have respect for the dead.”
“Just not for me?” I whisper, keeping my voice low and purposefully wobbly. Way to be strong!
He hangs his head. “Look, we were both drunk and horny, and while the location may not have been ideal—”
“It was a dumpster.”
“You will never convince me you weren’t thoroughly satisfied.”
He’s right. And that’s a huge part of the problem. I’m ashamed of myself. Ashamed that I wasn’t responsible enough to have learned from my past mistakes. That at the age of twenty I was still as reckless as the sixteen-year-old who let her hormones lead and wound up with a baby before finishing high school. Not anymore. I’ve grown a lot over the past two years. I will not be brought down so easily. “I just… I don’t do things like that.” Anymore. “I have a reputation…” I’m still trying to restore.