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Paige
I felt as if I was floating. My body felt as light as a feather. I went to the bathroom to clean up, and when I returned to the living room, Will asked, “Let’s order food. What do you want to eat?”
“Hmmm... hot detective with a side of fries?”
Will laughed, shaking a finger. “Paige.”
Damn, I liked how he said my name. It sounded sexy and naughty and affectionate all at the same time.
“I want a chicken salad.”
Will tapped the screen of his phone a few times, and then shoved it in his back pocket. His shirt rode up a few inches, and I caught a glimpse of those hot-as-sin abs.
I sashayed to him, and I swear, the extra sway in my hips was not intentional... just my body’s reaction to Will’s scorching-hot gaze. I stopped right in front of him, rising on my tiptoes to plant a kiss straight on his lips. I smiled against his mouth when he gripped my hips and pulled me flush against him. I took that as a green light to touch him, but I was a good girl and kept my grabby hands just on his arms and shoulders.
“You’re a good guy,” I murmured.
“Why is that a surprise?”
“Because you’re hot as sin.”
“And those are mutually exclusive things?”
“Usually. And when I met you, I don’t know... you were so full of swagger that I sort of assumed you were...”
“A jerk?”
I shook my head. “You came to buy an alarm with me. Jerks don’t do that. I just didn’t know what to make of you.”
“Now you do?”
I lifted one shoulder, working as much sass into the gesture as possible. “You’re still on probation, but I like what I see.”
Will grinned. “On probation, huh? I’ll take the bait.”
The bait? What? I was just teasing him.
About half an hour later, our food delivery arrived. I made to go to the door, but Will got there first, so instead I went to the kitchen. My heart was thumping wildly, and I wasn’t sure why. Was it because I had this sexy guy here with me?
I took the food out of the carton and laid it on plates, and then we ate at the small table, like that evening when he installed the alarm. We started talking about my job again.
“So how many letters of intent do you need?” he asked after I’d explained the process.
“Until I’ve reached 50 percent of the budget.”
“But you said your boss only needs 25 percent.”
I was mildly surprised that Will was showing real interest, not just making small talk.
“I know how my boss and his bosses think. The project is risky enough that they won’t green light it with just 25 percent. With 50 percent, though, they won’t discard it as quickly. And if I burn the midnight oil on this, I might be able to kick-start it by the end of the year.”
“This project means a lot to you.”
“Each project does.”
“Do you always take on the most challenging ones?”
