Do not put that in your pocket,my voice of reason orders.
To which a darker, sinister voice replies,what about my mouth?
“Madre de Dios.”
And it’s as if invoking the Virgin Mother’s name reminds me where the hell I am and what I’m doing. With a flick of my wrist, I sling the thong back onto the rack with its fellows, stalk out of the laundry room, and shut the door behind me, only just managing not to slam it.
“Take down that hood.” Without another word, I’m headed outside to my truck. The November air hits my face with a welcome chill. I should be back inside, taking part in the demo. Ripping out cabinets and smashing subway tiles would be the best thing for me right now.
But the last thing I want is company.
I lean back against the door of my truck and put my head in my hands.
“Get a grip, Valencia.”
And this is how Millie Delacroix finds me when she pulls into her driveway. I straighten up and rake my fingers through my hair as she parks in the garage, but it’s too late. She steps out of her Infinity wide eyed and looking worried.
“Luc? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
I snort. Luckily, she’s too far away to hear it. The sight of her has me gritting my teeth. She’s going to walk into that kitchen, and all three of those guys will be picturing her wearing nothing but peek-a-boo lace.
I know this because that’s all I’m picturing, and I’m trying like hell not to. I feel the hot tightening in my throat I felt Thursday night when she answered the door. Doesn’t she know better not to come to the door at night dressed like that? I could have been anyone.
Donner, Sam, and that fuckwad Joey could be anyone. Hell, even though Donner and Sam have worked for me for months, I don’t know what they’re capable of. And they know where she lives. They’re about to know what she looks like.
Millie stops in front of me, frowning. She’s changed since this morning, her hair is blown out, her fresh lipstick the color of fall leaves, a dark, russet red. And I wrestle the urge to shake her.
“What is it?”
My teeth are still clenched, and I force myself to relax my jaw.Professionalism.
“The drying rack,” I say flatly. “You might want to move it for the time being.”
She blinks, eyelashes, I now notice, the color of nutmeg. And then her eyes fly open wide. “Oh God.” Her hand slaps over her mouth with asmack.“And you?... OhGod!”
Crap.
The heat of my temper plummets. I wanted to warn her, not humiliate her. She’s covering her face with both hands now and the parts I can still see are bright red. On impulse, I step toward her and then step back.
“It’s okay—” But it’s not. “It’s not like—” But it is. “I just want you to be careful.”
Slowly, her hands drop, and she stares at me in confusion. “Be careful?”
I nod. The less said the better.
“What do you mean?Be careful?”
Chapter Ten
MILLIE
He liftsone shoulder and drops it, eyeing me with caution now. “Stereotypes exist for a reason.”
My gaze narrows. I don’t know any stereotypes about sexy panties. “What stereotypes?”
That scar in his brow twitches. “About construction workers.”
Is there a stereotype about construction workers and underwear? I shake my head. “I don’t get it.”
