“Thanks.” She waited for Jesse to head out the front door. Being alone with someone who was practically a stranger should have made her uneasy, but it didn’t. She felt warm and tingly and—was it hot in there?
She tugged at the cotton material of her shirt and turned away from him to lower the A/C.
“Sorry to show up like this,” Chris said from behind while she went a bit overzealous stabbing the controls to blast the air-conditioning to arctic temps.
“No apology needed. So what can . . .” Rory whirled to face Chris and stopped mid-sentence. Apparently, this man had never heard the notion of “personal space” because he was all up in hers. Lordy, he was so close she could barely breathe, yet somehow his cologne managed to further muddle her brain.
She lifted her nose, finding and cataloging his scent like a K9.
Sexy. Vibrant and virile. The manliest aroma she’d ever breathed in, and she came from a place of Southern cowboys, so that was saying a lot.
Hints of mint, touches of oak and cedar.
Wow, did he smell good. And look incredible.
Maybe there would be some perks to returning home.
But what if someone discovered her identity, her name? Where she lived?
No relationships. Not anytime soon. Be careful. Cautious. Keep your distance if you don’t want to hurt anyone until you know you’re in the clear, the memory of Carter’s parting warning a sharp stab to the chest. That strange relaxed feeling she’d been experiencing disappeared, and in its place, nervousness filled the void.
Chris may have been a former Navy SEAL, and still gallivanting around the world for his security company, but she didn’t want to endanger him because of the risks she’d taken. It wouldn’t be fair.
“You okay?” he asked as he removed his Red Sox hat and clutched it to his outer leg.
Her back pressed to the hall wall alongside the sideboard, and she did her best not to focus on his eyes. Eyes she was fairly confident could reach inside of her and touch her soul. Light her on fire.
She’d been with passionate lovers in her life, mostly foreign men, but there was something different about this man. Something she couldn’t quite understand or place her finger on.
Meaningless, no-strings-attached sex was all she’d be able to offer and—what am I thinking?
A smirk cut across his full lips like he’d heard her thoughts. His beard was trimmed close to his face but still thick. His hair a light brown, borderline dirty blond, and shorter on the sides. Not quite spiky but like he’d pulled at the strands to make some stand up on the top.
His nose was straight. Distinguished. Those blue, with a touch of green, eyes were set perfectly apart on an angular face. Strong jaw with a mouth that would look brilliant placed on the arch of her throat. Kissing her.
Okay, it’s been waaaayyyy too long since I’ve had sex. That is what is wrong with me.
And yet, the strange mix of nerves and a euphoric state had her imagination continuing to run wild as he stood a few inches before her, observing her with an amused smile and those gorgeous, confident eyes.
The immediate attraction she’d felt the first time they met was present. Sharp. Fierce. And it felt far too good.
“I need your help.” His eyes lowered to her mouth as if he were cataloging her looks the same as she had his, but then he turned away.
It was the reprieve she needed to find her breath. To pull herself together.
The fabric of his tee cinched in the middle as he drew a hand to the top of his head for a brief moment.
“You need my help?”
He lowered his hand, but she’d stepped too close so that when he turned back around, their bodies collided.
He quickly snatched her arm as if worried she might lose her balance.
But no.
Feet planted to the ground.
That was the plan, right?
No going anywhere.
No temptation. No thrill-chasing.
But wouldn’t this man be a thrill? An adventure? She felt that deep in her bones, among other places.
“I want you to take me on as a client. A.J. said you’re going to start a business training animals, and well, we got a Belgian Malinois for the company, and we could use your help.” His eyes journeyed to his hand secured around her bicep, then suddenly widened with the realization he’d been holding on to her and let go. He set his ball cap back on, this time the bill facing her way.
“A rescue?”
“Yeah, sort of.” He scratched his jaw, unease in his expressive blue eyes.
“What do you mean?” What was he hiding from her?
He slapped his palms together in prayer position between them as if prepared to plead his case. One eye closed, head slightly tilted. She’d seen that look on her brother. “What?” she asked, dragging the word out.
“He was going to be a Team dog, but well, he wasn’t exactly motivated to train, so he got the boot. Dubbed untrainable, but I just love a challenge, don’t you?” His innocent smile stretched, and it had an immediate effect on her.
“I do love a challenge.” She hadn’t even been able to hide that bit of truth, even though she knew working with this man after only just returning Stateside was a bad idea.
“So, you’ll do it?” His brows lifted with excitement.
“No,” she quickly responded and started for the kitchen.
She was still hungry for some crazy reason, but there was a sink that needed fixing, and maybe she ought to tap into her brother’s avoidance tactics by tinkering with the thing herself.
Maybe the gorgeous former Teamguy would disappear if she did.
His blue eyes wouldn’t be there when she looked back.
The spine-tingling sensation would be a distant memory, too.
“Why not?” he asked.
Rory crouched in front of the sink and stared into the open cabinet, then snatched the wrench, one of the only tools she recognized, and dipped under to do . . . something with the pipes.
She twisted the wrench, but with every twist, her stomach turned, too.
“What are you doing?” Chris asked, a husky tone in his voice as if he were hiding a laugh.
“Fixing the sink. What does it look like?” she asked, leaning back just as the connection loosened and water sprayed her in the face. Of course.
She smacked her head on the cupboard ceiling as she quickly sat up, then shifted around to her knees and backed up. Water shot every which way.
Chris was at her side in a second, and his hand brushed over her forearm as he took control and twisted the pipe with his bare hand and effectively stopped what was looking like a wet T-shirt contest.
“Shit. Sorry,” she apologized. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” She went to stand, but they bumped heads when they both attempted to rise at the same time.
He clutched her elbows, helping her upright. “Sorry,” he said, his Adam’s apple noticeably moving as he swallowed. “You okay?”
“Oh, I’m used to getting wet.” Her cheeks heated, stained with embarrassment. “Not like wet-wet. I mean, like ocean-wet. I dive.” She stumbled through her words. Never a problem in the past for her. What is wrong with me today? “Haven’t been wet in a while, though. Not wet from sex, I mean. Well, actually, that’s been a long time, too.”
Chris’s mouth pinched tight. An infectious smile crossed his lips.