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Dozer just had his dick sucked and had been on a high, but being in this woman’s presence made him feel inadequate. That’s probably why he gruffly snapped, “Who the hell are you?”
She startled at his tone and immediately stopped coming closer. “Excuse me. My name is Jane and my cousin and I just moved in.” She nodded toward the other house.
“So, why are you here?”
She shifted on her feet. “Do you mean here in North Carolina, or do you mean here in your driveway?”
Dozer blinked. Was this woman for real? Like he wanted her life story. He was tired and wanted to kick back and watch a movie before heading to bed. When he didn’t specify, she shifted on her boots again and made a decision all on her own.
“I noticed our houses are similar in style and, well, we don’t have any heat in the house. I wondered if maybe you knew how to turn it on? We’re really quite cold. It would be very appreciative if you could tell me how to use the heating system.”
Figures. This damn fool woman hadn’t a clue. “Did you light the pilot?”
“The pilot?” she blinked and asked with a blank look on her face. “There was a pilot on the commercial flight that flew us here, but…
Dozer couldn’t allow her to finish. “You have a gas furnace. You have to ignite the pilot light.”
“Oh.” Her beautiful face fell. “Where do I find this light and how do I ignite it?” She shivered and Dozer felt like an ass.
It was pretty obvious she had no idea and he really didn’t want fire trucks keeping him awake if she did manage to find the furnace and attempted to light it.
“Come on,” he growled and headed toward her house.
She had to run to keep up with him. “Thank you. This is very generous of you.”
Dozer pulled the door open and instantly stopped just inside. Suitcases had exploded on the floor and clothes were haphazardly lying on every piece of furniture in the room.
“Please excuse the mess. We’re still unpacking,” she offered in excuse.
He plowed through the living room and heard her gasp as his boots stepped all over her clothes. Pulling the door to the basement open, he switched on the light and headed downstairs.
“Oh, there’s a bottom level. I didn’t know that,” she said from behind him.
“A basement,” he supplied not knowing why he cared to correct her.
“It’s very rustic down here. Scary even,” she said tentatively from the bottom step. He could hear the shudders in her voice. She’d not be coming down here again, he’d bet. He wondered what she’d do when her clean clothes needed washing. Would she brave the basement to use the washer and dryer? Doubtful.
“It’s a typical unfinished basement. Same as my house was when I moved in.” He’d put the work in and turned his basement into a game room, complete with a pool table, big screen television, theater seating, with a bar on one end and a workout gym on the other side.
“I see.” Those two little words told Dozer that whoever this woman was, she didn’t belong here. She further cemented his opinion when she asked, “How often do I need to ignite the pilot?”
“Just once. The house has been vacant for a while, so I guess it’s not been lit for the winter.” It took him all of two seconds and the furnace came to life. “Give it a while and you’ll have all the heat you want.”
When he stood up, she was closer than he’d thought. She stood only a few feet from him and her fresh clean scent attacked his senses. Coupled with the way he was falling into her blue eyes had him giving her a wide berth and heading back up the stairs before he did something fucked up like run his beard along her soft cheek, fill his lungs with her scent, and then take that sinfully tempting mouth and dirty her all up.
“How long are you planning to be here?” he brusquely called out as his heavy boots clomped up the stairs.
“That’s still to be determined.”
He shook his head, again with her board room language. What the hell was she doing living in a thirty-year-old home that was sorely in need of renovations? She belonged here in her two-thousand-dollar leather and fur boots about as well as a one-percenter like him would fit in at Buckingham Palace.
Jane. She said her name was Jane. That was a lie, but he wasn’t sticking around to call her on it. Plodding back over the clothes on his way to her door, he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
“Please, let me pay you for your kindness. We are forever in your debt. My cousin and I would have been icicles by morning.”
With his hand on the doorknob, fool that he was, he paused and turned. His gaze ran over the designer clothes he’d stepped on and the quality of the suitcases lying open around the room. Something was going on, but he didn’t care what it was as long as she left him alone. Whatever game she was playing wasn’t his to unravel.
He watched as she rummaged around in a big black handbag, some fancy designer brand on the front, and pulled out a few bills. She looked up and their eyes met and held. Those damn blue eyes he’d see in his sleep from now on. She stepped closer, their gazes still connected, and extended her hand holding the bills.
