“Maybe. I’ve never spent much time analyzing the motivation. One thing I do know: my libido doesn’t have much of an IQ, but that motherfucker sure controls a lot of what I do.” He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
Whoa. Honesty alert. He was laying himself open, and a need to soothe him surged inside her. “That’s true of lots of people. Men and women.”
“Yeah? I doubt yours pushes you around. In fact, I can’t think of anything—or anyone—that does push you around.”
“Oh good. The illusion that I’ve got my shit together is holding.”
“You don’t have your shit together?”
She busted out a laugh. “Hell no! If I did, I wouldn’t be jobless and homeless right now.”
“But you’re neither. You have a roof over your head, and you’re gainfully employed,” he pointed out logically.
She saw no reason to remind her generous employer that her current caregiver position wasn’t exactly her dream job.
He seemed to read her mind nonetheless. “I get that taking care of my mom isn’t what you hoped to be doing, but it’s just a temporary stopover. And when the time comes, you’ll be kicking ass in Engineering World again.” He paused a beat. “What is it you want, career-wise? Where do you see yourself in ten, twenty years?”
Had anyone ever asked her this question? She had a ready answer, though she couldn’t remember sharing it aloud. “Honestly? I’d like to run my own show, which means I need to learn as much as I can in the meantime—about every aspect of the business—so when I get there, I do it right.”
“Awesome goal. I bet you’ll nail it.”
Approval wasn’t what she’d sought in telling him, but hearing it filled her with warm, floating fuzzies. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”
He nodded. “What’s the hardest part of your job?”
“Dealing with prima donna architects.”
“Didn’t you say Wolf is an architect?”
“He is, but he’s also a structural engineer, so he gets it. I think that’s one of the reasons we connected. I appreciated his art, and he appreciated that a solid structure must support the art. We used to geek out on design and construction and talk for hours.”
Hair hung over his eye, and he pushed it back with a grumble and raked his hands through it.
The alcohol she’d consumed seemed to crash into her in one powerful wave. “Is it a pain?”
His entire body, which had been on the twitchy side, came to a standstill. “Is what a pain?”
“The hair. All that beautiful, long hair.” What am I saying?
Gorgeous brown eyes clouded with skepticism. “You like the hair?”
She rolled her eyes again. Jeez, if she kept it up, they’d get stuck in their sockets. Thanks, Grandma. “Not necessarily, but it’s so … you. And honestly? I love the idea of your hair—on me.”
His eyes widened, and he seemed to short-circuit.
“No, no, no, I don’t mean on me, like we’re so close physically you’re dragging your hair all over my body. But like, I want your hair to be my hair.” She flapped her hand at him as if this would make him understand her babbling. Only confusion—and that same pained expression—showed on his chiseled face.
Why her funny bone suddenly tickled, she had no idea, but she couldn’t hold back the laugh-snorts. She didn’t realize she’d needed the release, but it felt damn good. “I love your mom!”
He seemed to recover, an adorable smirk replacing the tortured, befuddled one. “Totally random, Sunshine, but I love my mom too!”
Now her laughs became so violent her side ached and tears sprang to her eyes, but she swallowed them whole when his expression grew wistful.
“Your hair was so pretty in that picture you showed me. Damn, you looked so beautiful. Not that you’re not beautiful otherwise, but you had a special look. Because you were happy, I guess. I don’t get how he could’ve … Shit, I’m sorry.” His eyes caressed her with … Longing? Tenderness? She wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, it stopped her heart.
And then she realized he meant Wolf. Just like that, a shroud folded itself around her. Suddenly, she was exhausted.
He flicked out a hand and brushed her arm. Tingles made her hairs stand up on end. “Hey,” he said softly in his seductive, dark-fudge-sauce tone. “I shouldn’t have said any of that.” His hands came together and formed a T. “Timeout. Rewind. Tell me what you dream about besides running your own engineering company, Sunshine.”
She narrowed her eyes. Well, she thought she did, though she couldn’t tell. Her face was numb. At least the shroud had been nudged back a fraction. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Too much. Tell me what you dream about,” he repeated.
“Whirled peas.”
He blinked. Then one corner of his mouth climbed, and his dimple reappeared, like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.
Oh. My. God.
“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” he said.
“Do you have any fudge sauce?”
“Say what?”
“Fudge sauce. Oh, never mind.” Yeah, she probably shouldn’t tell him what had just rocketed through her brain that involved fudge, his dimple, and her tongue. “I think I had a teeny-weeny bit too much to drink. I should go to bed.”
He looked all kinds of disappointed. “We still have a game to play.”
“No, I’m up by one, so I’m gonna fold and float away on my little contented cloud of victory.” She sang a chorus of “We Are the Champions.”
He chuckled. “Not half-bad. What happened to best of seven?”
“We played seven. You won three, and I won four.”
“Well, shit.” His hand shot to his chin and rubbed.
“How does it feel to be naked?” she blurted.
“Excuse me?”
“Your stubble. Where did it go? Don’t you feel naked or cold or … hairless?”
His whole face transformed with a brilliant, panty-melting smile. Oh shit. That’s how he does it. Who can resist? He’s like Medusa. No, she turned people to stone. He turns them into puddles of goo.
“Yeah, I think you might be right,
