“Are you sure?” he asked in a sexy drawl, leaning against the side of my beat up truck. “I really don’t mind helping.”
I stopped wiping the dust from my jeans, transfixed by his voice. Talk about a loaded question. I bit my lower lip.
“Come here,” he said. His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the command in his tone.
Something warned me he was dangerous. A spark in the back of my mind, warning me not to get too close, or I would get burned. I was sure this man had lots of notches on his bed post. Probably the love them and leave them type. That wasn’t for me. I didn’t do quick flings.
Despite the warning bells ringing in my ears, I inched forward.
He smiled, and I felt the butterflies in my stomach start to do the rumba. Holy crap, what was I doing?
He took my hand, his fingers cool against mine, and then turned me around so my back was facing him. He pushed my upper body gently but firmly forward, so my butt tilted towards him.
“Hmm.” The timbre of his voice sent pleasurable shivers along my spine.
I felt silly and vulnerable and wanted to straighten up, but he held me in position. I knew he was going to put his hands on my ass and I tingled in anticipation. Images flooded my brain, picturing myself bent over in front of him, naked. My breathing grew fast and shallow.
He ran his hand over my backside. Slowly. He wasn’t brushing off the dust. He was feeling me up, and God help me, I loved it. I wanted to push him down on the bed of the truck and let him stroke me all over.
My breath caught in my throat, and I pulled away. What was I doing?
He let me straighten up and turn to face him, but he didn’t let go of my wrist. His eyes burned down into mine, and I was pretty sure he was turned on. I briefly fantasised about getting in my truck and driving him some place quiet and letting him run those strong hands anywhere he wanted…
“So you’re the artist?” he said, his face now a mask of professional friendliness.
“Huh?” Maybe I’d misread the signals. Maybe I’d projected my lust onto him. “Um, yes. I’m the artist doing the restoration work.”
“How’s it going?”
I took a deep breath, surprised at the sudden change in direction. My brain struggled to arrange a coherent sentence. “Quite well. It was a tough job, but I hope to be finished in a couple of days.”
“That’s great.” He smiled, showing off white teeth and a perfect mouth. Dammit, he was so good-looking.
“Perhaps you would like to look at the chapel?” he asked.
I frowned and shook my head, trying to focus and bury the erotic images that kept popping into my mind. “Sorry?”
“The ceiling in the chapel. It has a fresco by Juliaane Retour. I wondered if you’d seen it yet. It’s quite beautiful.”
I couldn’t take my eyes from his mouth. His lips looked soft. I wondered how they felt, how they tasted. For goodness sake, Kate, snap out of it.
“I haven’t seen it,” I said.
“I could take you if you like?”
I noticed his fingers still held my wrist. I should say no. Mrs. Wicker would open up the Great Hall for me soon, and I needed to make an early start if I was going to finish the restoration by the weekend.
He noticed my hesitation, and his fingers traced a line along the inside of my arm.
“It’s not far,” he said, his voice low and persuasive. “But I understand if you are too busy.”
He dropped my wrist, but I could still feel the warmth his fingers left on me. I looked at my watch. I still had twenty minutes. Perhaps I could see the chapel and get back to start work in time.
“I’ve only got twenty minutes.”
He smiled, which set off tingles in my stomach. “Well, that will have to do, I suppose.”
He offered me his arm. I was surprised by the old-fashioned gesture, but linked my arm through his as we set off along the drive. As we walked, I was conscious of the warmth of his skin, the taut muscles in his arm. Just being this close to him sent my imagination into overdrive.
Halfway along the gravel driveway, he veered off and led me along a footpath I hadn’t noticed before. As we walked further along the path, the trees grew more numerous, blocking us from sight of the main house. The thick vegetation muffled the sound of the ocean. As birds chirped happily above us, I thought no one can see us. He could do anything he wanted to me, and no one could see. That thought didn’t scare me, but it did set my heart racing.
He could throw me down on the ground right now and slide his hands up my shirt, strip off my jeans and…
“Are you okay?”
I jumped and looked up to see him staring at me. That dark, hungry look was back in his eyes. I knew I wasn’t imagining it.
If only I was brave enough to slip my hand up his t-shirt and feel that muscular chest… But I wasn’t. I wrenched my gaze away and stared down at the ground, scared he might be able to read the desire in my expression.
He stopped walking and turned to face me. After putting a finger under my chin, he tilted my head up. The look in his eyes turned my insides into liquid desire. I trembled.
“There are other ways we could fill twenty minutes,” he said, his voice husky, and stepped closer to me.
“Oh?” What else could I say?
He smiled and moved even closer, until my chest was touching his. I realised with a jolt of embarrassment that my nipples were hard and pushed up against his chest. My mind
