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As soon as she walked in, she got to work hooking up the MIG, the TIG, and the compressor, hanging her tools on the pegboards, and setting out her barrels of nuts, bolts, and screws. This was always what she taught her students--to start each project by being as organized as possible. Because once the vision kicked into overdrive, you wouldn't want it to end up flying out of your brain because you had to stop to look for something in your workshop.
That was when she found the barrel of plastic monkeys Sebastian must have slipped in. Laughter bubbled up and over, joining the desire that was still humming inside her from the night before. Her lips tingled from his kiss, and she swore she could smell him too--that luscious, sexy smell all his own.
"Okay, it's time to get to work," she chided herself.
"You know what they say about all work and no play."
She darn near jumped out of her steel-toes. "You scared me." She put her hand to her chest, her heart beating hard and fast, and not just from fright. He really was the most beautiful man she'd ever set eyes on, yummy enough to eat. His white polo shirt showed off his tanned, muscular arms. Moments before, her fingers had itched to start a few welds, but now all she could think about was kneading his flesh like a purring cat.
Then she whirled, pointing at the barrel. "Oh my God, the monkeys." She laughed. "I love them."
Something decadent and delicious sparked in his eyes as his gaze played over her mouth. "I wanted to hear you laugh, just like that."
An answering flame flared up deep inside her. She could almost taste last night's kiss, and she knew he was remembering it too, as his eyes traced her lips. She was in danger of diving on him if she didn't say something. "Well, a barrel of monkeys will certainly do that to me."
"Actually, I came down to see if I could help."
Given that fluttery feeling she got whenever he was near, she suspected he would be more distraction than help. She shot a glance at his pressed slacks and shirt. "You're not dressed to help."
"You've got me," he said, holding up his hands. "The real reason I'm here is because I wanted my day to start with seeing you."
God, the things he said to her.
I saw only you.
I didn't want to split my attention between you and the road today.
I'm more than happy to tell you again how magnificent you are.
You make it easy, Charlie.
It's a few more minutes with you.
After learning about his parents and the life he'd had as a kid, she'd found so much to admire about him. The way he made her melt from the inside out was like the whipped cream on this morning's coffee, that special little treat that made her taste buds ooh and aah.
She drew in a deep breath because he made her feel lightheaded. Which, she quickly decided, was unacceptable in her workshop despite how much she had come to like being with him. This was her studio while she built the chariot and stallions and she needed to control it. It would be one thing if he were one of her students--she couldn't stop thinking how much fun it would be to bring them here to see what a fully decked-out workshop looked like. But he wasn't her student. He was her patron. And she was here to build him a $100,000 sculpture for his San Francisco high-rise.
"It's nice to see you too," she said as gently as she could, "but--"
"Get out?"
How could she not laugh out loud again? "Actually, if you wouldn't mind helping me move these car doors first, that would be great. And then," she added in a teasing tone, "you can go."
He looked really pleased to get to stay a while longer, and her heart thumped a few extra beats as he carried the doors over to where she wanted them and his biceps flexed big and strong beneath his shirt.
"Are you planning to use these for the chariot?"
"Yup. I can grind them down to bare metal, then shape them."
"Tell me about your equipment."
She loved teaching. Plus, even if she should be kicking him out and getting to work, the truth was that she was glad to spend a few more minutes with him. Laying her hand on the first machine, she said, "This is a TIG welder--that stands for tungsten inert gas. It works on just about any weldable metal, including dissimilar metals. It's also good on round pieces."
"Fascinating," he remarked. "I'm dying to watch you work." His voice was low, and it set off a distinctive thrill inside.
"It will be a while before I begin putting pieces together. I've only just started a diagram. I'll show you." She opened her iPad on the workbench, then tapped an app to display the drawings she'd recently added. "I find a picture, import it, then flesh it out. Mostly I get the feel of the lines of whatever I'm making." She traced her finger along the bunched muscles of a stallion.
He leaned over to put his elbows on the bench, his hip bumping hers. And for a moment, she forgot everything except the feel of him against her...and how good it was. Nearly as good as his mouth had felt on hers the night before.
