Touch Me (20 page)

“It turns out?”

“The boring truth is, I like numbers. I like crunching them. And this time it won’t be for some dry firm or big corporation. It will be for a small business that I think I might just enjoy being involved with.”

Fuck. He hated seeing that hopefulness on her face. There’d been an end date to their connection and that’s what he’d been relying upon to keep him from doing something stupid.

From hurting her.

But if she took on the job…

“I’m not sure—”

“I know, I know. It may not require me full-time. But I can find other small concerns that could use my help.” She reached into the portfolio at her elbow and drew out a sheet of paper. “Here’s my resume.”

“I don’t need to see a resume.”

Ignoring him, she drew out another. “And here’s what I think would be a fair wage.”

Taking the papers, he sighed. “Rose.”

“Don’t say anything. Not just yet.” Grabbing her purse, she rose. “I’m going to the restroom to give you time to review what’s there and think about my proposition.”

Before he could protest, she was gone.

Oh, hell. He tossed the papers down and scrubbed his face with his palm. She would do a fine job, he was sure. Her salary expectation would be fair. That wasn’t the trouble.

She
was trouble.

“Payne?”

He looked up and tried to place the familiar face. “Min!” he said, rising to kiss her cheek. “I thought you’d moved to San Antonio.”

“Did, but I’m back.” She beamed at him. “You’re looking good.”

“As are you, Min.” A bouncy, athletic woman, he’d met her at the gym and they’d played volleyball at the beach on occasion until she’d left town for a new job.

They chatted about that position and how it had led to a promotion back in L.A. He told her about the new salvage yard. When work talk wound down, she tilted her head. “How are other things? Still hung up on your ex? On Lily?”

His jaw clenched. That ruse just felt shameful and stupid now. “Min—”

“Oh, shoot,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “I’m holding up my peeps. Just take my number, okay?” Pressing a card into his hand, she stood on her tiptoes and placed a smacking kiss on his chin.

As she walked off, he felt an uncomfortable tickle at the back of his neck. Turning, he saw that Rose was making her way to him. Presumably she’d witnessed at least some of his exchange with the other woman.

Which was nothing to feel guilty about, he told himself, shoving Min’s card in his pocket and taking his seat.

But when Rose sat down opposite and trained those big gray eyes on him, he found he couldn’t let her down.

“You’ve got the job, kiddo,” he said, and sighed.

On the up side, he had himself an accountant for the new yard. On the down side…

He was fucked.

On her hands and knees in a secluded corner of Payne’s back yard, Rose slammed a weeding fork into the bare earth to loosen the soil and jettison some of her ugly temper. Sweat ran from her hairline toward her eyebrows and she swiped at it with the back of a gloved hand. It surely left a streak of dirt behind, but that suited her mood.

It was dark.

She made another strike at the ground, and the heavy tines caught on something hard. Wiggling the tool back and forth, she loosened the offending rock from the ground and threw it to the side. It hit the four-foot high bamboo fencing that screened this area from the rest of the yard.

At some point she guessed the patch had been cleared for a modest vegetable garden and she’d gotten the bright idea to plant one after passing the small local nursery. She’d wanted to leave a lasting stamp on Payne’s bachelor pad.

Once upon a time, Rose was here.

She’d loaded up her trunk with recommendations from the clerk and drove onto Payne’s. Upon arrival, she’d made a call before beginning her tilling. If she’d done it prior to her nursery visit, she would have stocked up on foxglove. It was poisonous, wasn’t it?

Maybe she should have a plant sent to her father’s offices.

Sighing, Rose moved forward in the dirt. The person she was really mad at was herself. Why, oh why had she hit his number on her contacts list?

Ostensibly it had been to get a few phone numbers and email addresses. She wanted to be able to offer those of her mentor at the firm, recently retired, and a couple of former clients as recommendations to people who might be interested in her accounting services.

But she was afraid an unconscious motive had been to obtain her father’s approval.

See, Dad, doing the numbers thing again after all!

Of course he hadn’t applauded her plan. Instead, he’d used the opportunity to outline all the ways it could go wrong and to detail all the reasons she should return to Seattle and work for him. Before she’d hung up, he’d even tried to forward her call to her ex, Blake.

Thank God he’d never managed to learn the trickier options of the company phone system.

Still, she felt as suffocated as if she was zippered into one of her pencil-skirted business suits. Her throat was too tight also, as if strangled by a top button. Her scalp hurt, like it did when she wore her hair in a business-y bun.

Attacking the dirt again, she concentrated on the sun on her shoulders and the feel of the light breeze in her unbound hair. “Wearing shorts and a tank,” she murmured to herself. Digging her toes in the dirt behind her, she was reminded she was wearing no shoes whatsoever.

Sitting back on her heels, she wiped her sweaty forehead once more and took in the dirt dotting her thighs and arms. She’d dampened the patch with a hose earlier, so there were some mud splatters decorating her too. Nothing like the former oh-so-tidy Rose Dailey.

Her mood began to rise.
Forget that dumb phone call.

It was another beautiful February afternoon, summer-warm, especially in this protected little corner of the property. Grimacing, she felt a brief, guilty twinge at not asking Payne’s permission to play around in his dirt—he’d been gone all day with some of the other Rock Royalty princes. It didn’t seem as if he’d have any real reason to object, but maybe he wouldn’t appreciate her leaving something of herself behind.

Once upon a time, Rose was here.

If he was okay with it, though, maybe he’d let her come over every so often. She could weed the garden, and later harvest the carrots and cucumbers, zukes and peppers that she intended to plant. It was too early for tomatoes, but if she asked nicely, perhaps he’d allow her to put them in later in the season.

She pictured it now. A little basket over her arm. A pretty sundress. The side gate would soundlessly open and she’d happily head toward her corner garden—

And then get an embarrassing eyeful of Payne with some woman—or women—cavorting on one of the extra-wide lounge chairs beside the pool.

Her mood plummeted.

She returned to clawing the earth with a vengeance.

A few minutes later, an amused voice broke into her frenzy. “Wow,” Payne said. “You’re an energetic little farmer. Who knew?”

She glanced up at him. He was dressed in worn jeans, a white T-shirt, and a pair of black Chuck Taylor high top shoes. Mirrored aviator sunglasses shaded his eyes.

Really? Mirrored sunglasses?

She scowled at him, hating how hip and cool he looked even in those ridiculous glasses and shoes. Burying images of him with his future harem was not going to get any easier.

“Have you decided to ditch accounting after all?” he asked. “Instead you’re going to randomly cultivate other people’s property?”

“I’m planting you a vegetable garden,” she muttered.

“Yeah?” He gazed down at her, a small smile on his handsome face. “You look cute all dirtied up, kiddo.”

Kiddo.

He’d started calling her that a couple of nights before when she’d pitched the idea of being the yard’s accountant. Now he used it often.

It was about as subtle as a brick wall.

“Kiddo” was the girl who got ice cream sundaes. “Kiddo” got rides home in his badass car so she didn’t have to walk home from school. “Kiddo” didn’t get anything else from Payne—certainly not sex.

She shouldn’t care—he’d agreed she could be the yard’s accountant. That was enough.

Now he was making a big play of looking around the area, checking out the dirt near her. “You out here all alone?”

“Huh? Just me and the tools.”

“Oh. I’m surprised you didn’t bring along a little something to entertain you during your mudpie making.”

Mudpies. She glared up at him, wondering why he was working so hard at this Rose-is-a-juvenile stuff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His smile turned sly. “Rowdy and Willa. Seemed like there was some bareback bronc riding in their near future.”

Rose felt her face go hot. “Are you listening to my books again, you creep?” Her gloved fingers flexed in the dirt by her side and without thinking, she flung a handful at him.

It hit his knees and showered down on his Chuck Taylors. “Why, sorry ma’am,” he drawled around a shit-eating grin, “but just like Rowdy, I ain’t no gentleman.”

“No, you’re a jerk,” Rose fumed, and threw another wad of muck at him. This one hit him on the side of his thigh.

He started laughing, which only incensed her more. “Leave my books alone,” she yelled, flinging more mud at him.

Laughing like crazy, he brushed more of the debris from the denim, but he was nowhere near clean now.

Take that, hip bastard, she thought, feeling marginally happier. “And you better water the vegetables I’m planting.” This time she scooped up two wet handfuls. “And enjoy eating them too!” Both landed on the pristine white cotton of his shirt.

Payne glanced down. The two globs clung to the fabric. “Uh-oh,” he said, face turning serious.

Uh-oh, she mouthed.

“Don’t go anywhere, missy,” he mock-threatened, pointing a finger at her. “It’s time to pay the piper.”

Whether he was actually kidding or not, all she knew was that her pulse scrambled, then sped up. As he stripped off the shirt, managing to take it over his head without disturbing those mirrored glasses, she scurried backward on her knees.

He tossed the shirt to the ground. “Stay. Right. There.”

The tone of his voice froze her muscles. She could only move her eyes, and as he strode toward her, she found her gaze falling from his face to take in his heavy shoulders and chiseled chest. Then it was his torso, that fading scar. Shifting, her eyes focused on the dragon-headed, double helix tattoo and she followed the twisted ladder until it disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.

Then she noticed the bulge behind the denim.

Her muscles went even more rigid, her skin prickled with heat, her mouth dried. Then watered.

Payne came to stand in front of her, his body just inches away. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

She was quivering inside. Raising her gaze once again, she looked into that inscrutable face. He was no longer smiling or laughing and his eyes were hidden by his sunglasses. “Are you…” As desire gathered low in her belly, Rose drew together her courage.

Break some rules, girl!

“Yes?”

Break some rules!

“I was going to ask if you’re officially my boss yet,” she told him, slowly stripping off her muddy gloves. Her heart raced in excitement. “But I’ve decided I don’t care.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You don’t care about what, Rose?”

Yeah, no “kiddo” now. “If fraternization is outlawed in the employee handbook.”

His mouth took on that arrogant smirk of his. “Is that what we’re going to do? Fraternize?”

“No, just me.” She kneed closer and put her fingertips on Payne’s bare belly, just above the denim waistband. Both forefingers touched the thin trail of hair that led below. Her left pinkie brushed the outermost strand of the double helix tattoo. Her thumbs, lower, rested upon the heavy shaft beneath his jeans. She stroked them up and down, feeling his thick cock twitch. “I’m going to fraternize you out of your mind.”

His belly drew in on a silent gasp. Rose liked that reaction so much it got her past her nerves. Watching his face, she moved her hands to the fastenings of his pants, slowly undoing the metal buttons without worrying about how many times she bumped his solid shaft.

He hissed in another breath as she peeled apart two sides of the jeans.

Commando, again. She should have guessed, considering she did the laundry and his dirty clothes rarely included boxers or briefs.

Crowding just an inch closer, she drew his cock and balls out of the frame of the denim. His soft groan had her glancing up. But with those glasses she couldn’t tell much. “Are you okay with this?”

His teeth flashed. “You can’t figure it out?”

That sounded like a yes, so Rose returned her attention to his straining shaft. It was so thick, the veins prominent, the head an aggressive dark red. Blow jobs had never been a specialty she’d cultivated, and she wished for more experience now, because she wanted to give Payne Colson something he’d never forget.

Once upon a time, Rose was here.

She brought her face closer and breathed him in. He smelled of the manly scented soap in his shower, a clean, ocean-salt scent. The tip of her nose met his shaft, she felt his tiny jerk, and, smiling, she ran her nose up and down the hot muscle.

Once back at the top, she stretched out her tongue and licked a delicate ring around the ridge where the head met the shaft, pulling his cock away from his belly and leaning close so she could create a complete circle. Then she lifted higher on her knees, bending her neck to take the bulbous crown in her mouth.

Her gaze shifted upward, toward his eyes. He was looking down, but the mirrored sunglasses only reflected her own expression. Her breath caught in her lungs at how worshipful she looked, big-eyed and submissive. She froze, just the tip of him resting on her tongue. Then she felt the caress of his fingers against her cheek.

It steadied her.

Spurred her on.

She sucked.

He grunted, his hand drifting to her hair as she completely wet the satiny surface with her swirling tongue, then explored the tiny slit. A new, slightly sweet taste entered her mouth and she swallowed it down. This was working for him.