Crossing Lines (12 page)

Just what? There wasn’t any denying his attraction to Sam. Hell, he’d been attracted to her yesterday when she shut his shit down. Today, she definitely wasn’t shutting him down in any way, and the already intense attraction had only grown.

Her two-piece bathing suit that revealed the perfect amount of cleavage while providing enough coverage to make his imagination work overtime drove his testosterone level through the roof and inspired all kind of XXX thoughts. The bedroom eyes she’d tossed his way, as well as the heat continually building between them, let him know she was ready and willing. All he had to do was take.

But the more time he spent with her, the more he learned about her, the more he watched her with Michaela and Spencer…

The more he wanted more.

Sex, at this point, was a given. He was still hoping for the strength to make it until after he’d ended things with Lizbeth. But he also recognized sex alone wouldn’t be enough. He didn’t want just her body; he wanted the woman.

He’d decided no more quick lays or one-nighters. He wanted to do things differently. And he wanted to start that new plan with Sam.

Marianne drummed her fingers on the hood of the car and tapped her toe once, waiting for him to finish explaining himself.

He didn’t know how to make Marianne understand any of that, so he went with what he knew. “I’ve wanted to break things off with Lizbeth for a while, but it didn’t feel right because of the wedding. Things would be awkward for the entire wedding party, and it seemed unfair to Wade and Miranda. Not to mention being cruel to Lizbeth.”

“Yeah,” Marianne said with a twitch of her nose. “Knowing Lizbeth and her dramatics, she’d make such a big deal out of it, she’d completely ruin the day for Miranda—”

“Exactly!” Kevin exhaled with relief at Marianne’s understanding. “Erik says I’ve waited this long, another two weeks won’t kill me, but…” He glanced to the backyard and envisioned the woman in a black two-piece with the sea-green eyes, glistening with sunscreen.

“The way you looked at her, and listening to you talk just now, I can see there’s something special about her. It seems awful risky to me, and you don’t want to screw up something that might be a good thing.”

He didn’t want to think like that. He hadn’t done anything wrong, at least not yet. At this point, he could even share the details of his day with Lizbeth—minus the few stumbles and micro meltdowns.

“Hey.” He spun around to Marianne. “Do you know who her dad is?”

Marianne, figuring this wasn’t a serious question, but a quick diversionary tactic, gave him the don’t-be-stupid expression she’d mastered as a toddler. “I didn’t know her until five minutes ago.”

He smiled arrogantly. “Chas Seymore.”

Her eyebrows shot up as her mouth dropped open. “No shit.” She glanced at the backyard gate. “Wow, I’ve wondered what happened to her. I thought she’d take over after he died, but then… she disappeared. What’s she doing here?” She pulled an ugly face. “Why’s she working as an inspector?”

A wave of sadness crested in his chest as he remembered the isolation and defeat surrounding the normally rock-solid woman in his backyard. “Long story, but her family sold the business out from under her. I think she’d like to get back into building. We’ve been looking for a floating foreman who can fill in on jobs while the regular foreman is out, like while Wade is out on his honeymoon. She’d be perfect for the job.”

“Yeah, she would. Except after shit hits the fan with you guys, I’ll be left dealing with a disgruntled, hysterical female.”

Shit won’t hit the fan
was his first thought, but he said, “Nope. She’s just like you. Exacting painful revenge is more her style. No hysterical female dramatics, I promise.”

“In that case,” she said, giving him a hug, “she and I will get along just fine.” She stepped back and opened her door. “You want me to do some checking around, just to make sure we’re not missing something before we make the offer?”

Kevin grinned. He’d had the idea of hiring Sam as soon as he learned who she was. He hadn’t intended to broach the subject with Marianne so soon and had actually been using it as a smokescreen to get her off the subject of his increasingly fucked-up personal life. But Marianne was as passionate about their company as him, and if he had an idea she thought worthwhile, she’d explore it to the fullest.

He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have her knock the foundation out from under him and leave him standing in the cold. His gaze shifted to the gate. Rather than the sexual urges he was growing accustomed to battling, his protective Mr. Fix-it showed up at the door.

Sam’s family had treated her horribly, but their loss would be his gain. He had no doubt she would make a great addition to Mazze Builders.

He just prayed she also made an awesome addition to his personal life.

S
am couldn’t remember the last time she had such an enjoyable day. Despite the steady bass beating in her ankle, she’d laughed and played like she didn’t have a care in the world. Based on the smile in Kevin’s eyes as he helped her and Michy into his truck, and his comments about looking forward to doing it again the next day, she supposed he had a good time, too. Now here they were, riding home in his truck, with Kevin’s overnight bag sitting next to Michy and a flock of butterflies riding shotgun in Sam’s gut.

“Turn at the next right,” she said, pointing to the green street sign coming into view. “We’re the second house on the left.”

Their house was small, with a marginally larger yard, in an average neighborhood far away from the grandeur and opulence of Kevin’s. She couldn’t complain. She felt fortunate to have found the little two-bedroom bungalow so soon after moving, but the differences between Kevin’s lifestyle and hers were striking.

He turned onto the busted concrete driveway, killed the engine, and peered over his shoulder at Michy. Exhausted from a big day of playing, she’d fallen asleep as soon as they hit the road. Her head had flopped so far forward it appeared to be in danger of rolling off her shoulders, and a line of drool rolled off her bottom lip. The corner of Kevin’s mouth lifted in a sweet smile and his eyes turned melted-chocolate soft as he swiped his hand across her chin, mopping up the mess.

Sam’s heart stopped, then chugged to life at the tender gesture shown by a man they barely knew and so much sweeter than anything Michael ever did. Until this moment, she never realized how strained life with him had been and how much she and Michy missed.

“Give me your keys and I’ll unlock the house,” he said, stretching out his hand. “I’ll come back and carry her to bed.”

“Good luck,” Sam said with a snort as she dug her keys from her bag. “She usually wakes up as soon as the vehicle stops.” She cocked her head and studied Michy… who hadn’t so much as fluttered an eyelash.

He glanced at Sleeping Beauty and smiled. “I love a challenge… I’m not so sure this’ll be one, though.”

While he unlocked the house and turned on lights, Sam crawled out of the truck… slowly and carefully, making sure to keep her foot elevated.

“You want me to get her or help you first?”

Holding the side of the truck, she hopped out of the way and made room for him to get Michaela out of the back. “You get her and I’ll get me.”

With a huff and a half-eye roll, he said, “You’re more stubborn than I am, and that’s saying something.”

“What?” she said, hopping around to the front of the truck, proving her point. “I got this. No problem.”

“What’re you going to do when you don’t have the truck to hold on to?”

“Hold the bushes.”

He stepped back and peeked around the door at the scrawny, barely-there azaleas. “This’ll be good.” He took in the neighboring houses. “I bet I could sell tickets.”

He eased Michaela out of her seat, wrapped one hand around the back of her head to hold her against his shoulder, and cradled her close to his chest. His careful attentiveness tugged at Sam’s heart and made her glad Michy was asleep so this man’s magnetic charm didn’t weave the same magic around her daughter that it cast over her.

As soon as he disappeared into the house, Sam doubled her efforts to get around the front of the truck and up the sidewalk before he returned. The scraggly azaleas were short—even by her measure—so they weren’t as useful as she planned. She grabbed twigs and tendrils where she could, but it came down to hoping for the best and allowing momentum to propel her along.

Three hops away from the handrail, Kevin reappeared in the doorway. “I assume her room is the one with the pink princess shit everywhere.”

With broken concentration, she hobbled and bobbled and nearly went over. She grabbed for the handrail as Kevin grabbed her, and together they managed to keep her upright. Once on steady footing, she grimaced and nodded. “Isn’t it awful? How did I end up with such a girly girl?”

With a cramping spasm shooting up her good calf, into her thigh, and toward her butt, she studied the steps and sighed. “Okay, I give. Will you help me?”

“Sure, but it’ll cost you.” His deep and menacing tone caused her to snap her gaze to his. A smile played on his lips, but his eyes were dark and serious, his body tense.

She worked her tongue around the roof of her mouth, manufacturing moisture so she could answer. “How much?”

“I’m pretty cheap, so not much,” he said, lifting her in his arms. He shut the door behind them, flipped the lock, and veered right into the living room. “In here?”

She considered telling him to skip the couch and take her directly to bed, but she’d been forward enough with her previous flirtatious advances. He knew she was interested. Hell, he knew she was a sure thing. They’d already established he’d be staying the night under the guise of helping with her foot—at least she hoped it was just a cover story—so she wanted to back off and let him run the show from here on out. If he wanted to start off on the couch watching football, she was down with that.

God, please let him be a Clemson fan and not a South Carolina Gamecock.
She wouldn’t be able to bear hearing “Let’s go Cocks” streaming from his mouth.

Between dinner and the ride home, her foot had been down for a while, so the swelling and throbbing had gotten worse.

Catching her wince, he said, “You get settled here. I’ll get you an ice pack and pillow to prop up your leg. Where can I find one?”

She rested her head against the arm of the sofa and stretched out, hating herself for being a wimp. But the ibuprofen quit working hours ago and she really hurt. She smiled at the man hovering over her with concern marring his handsome face. She wasn’t accustomed to letting anyone take care of her, but she liked knowing someone cared.

“There’s a bag of frozen peas in the freezer that’ll work well. I keep spare pillows and blankets in the bottom drawer of my dresser. You can grab one of those.”

“I’m sure you’re not used to letting anyone take care of you. Thanks for allowing me to do this.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and walked away.

She ran her fingers over her forehead like she could capture the kiss and hold it in place. His lips had been as soft as she suspected, and she couldn’t wait for a real kiss. Just as she’d imagined last night—

Fuck!

As his footsteps disappeared into her bedroom, panic seized her. She’d gotten a new dresser when she moved into this house and this one only had one bottom drawer. She also had a hall closet now, so she moved the blankets and pillows to the closet and used the bottom dresser drawer for her
toys
.

“Kevin,” she yelled, scrambling off the couch and landing on her ass with a thud. “Kevin, stop.” She used the coffee table to get to her foot and hopped around the end table. She grabbed the back of the rocking chair, which was not the least bit helpful, then bunny-hopped down the hallway. She wanted to yell again, but was afraid of waking Michy. However, if she didn’t yell, Kevin would—

She rounded the bedroom door as the bottom drawer slid open for the full reveal.

The rhetorical question she asked on the boardwalk had been answered. The day
could
get more embarrassing; her mortification was complete.

The wheels of time ground to a screeching halt… stood still for several heartbeats… then, one cog at a time, began to turn in slow motion. His eyes widened in surprise at not finding a pillow and blanket as expected, but a mass profusion of eroticism that would make a seasoned hooker blush. He blinked once, then twice as his nostrils flared and his chest rose and fell with sharp, heavy breaths. His head swiveled toward her, and he trained nearly black eyes on her face.

Her cheeks flamed, and she wanted to turn and flee from the room as fast as her hop-along gait would allow, but she was locked in place, held captive by his intense stare. Besides, even if she could escape, where would she go? Running back to the couch wouldn’t undo any of this or magically make him forget what he saw.

She shifted her weight, trying to ease the pressure on her heel, but he must’ve thought she was preparing to bolt because he said, “Don’t move.”