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Her eyes jumped to Entrees.
‘Massages from head to toe’ was listed first and you could choose from ones that relaxed or energised. Relaxation was what she needed right now. The idea of a man she’d never met massaging her entire body was … thrilling and a bit scary. Wouldn’t that turn the guy on, and then what? Jump to the main course? A man that gave pedicures might be gay but if he turned her on, what then? Did she jump him?
Was she really ready to have sex with a man she’d never met? It did seem to be part of the package and surely he’d have a nice package. She’d been up for a lot of things ten years ago but now she was a mature and supposedly sensible woman.
Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, she leaned her head against the back of her sofa and tried to relax. The soft upholstery distracted her for a moment as she revelled in its comfort. Her furnishings were sparse but every piece was new and hers. The house was hers too and after years of living in apartments with worn furniture that belonged to the landlord, this was heaven.
What would a really hot guy … and she hoped the Fantasy Man would be hot … think of her place? Would he find it weird that she had all new stuff in a fixer-upper that wasn’t fixed up yet?
The house was ‘a steal’, the realtor said, with great potential. Potential turned out to mean ‘in disrepair’, but she loved it and it was affordable. A house hidden away in the countryside suited her. She liked that you couldn’t see it until you rounded the curve in the long lane. She’d had enough of noise and crowded spaces and she’d hire the repairs done a little at a time as she could afford them.
A loud knock at her front door startled Monica from her reverie. Odd, she hadn’t heard a car drive up. It had to be too soon for her Fantasy Man. She ran to the window and pulled back a curtain to look but there wasn’t a vehicle in sight and she couldn’t see any tire tracks. Snow was lightly falling but it couldn’t have covered them so quickly.
Another knock sounded. Louder than the first. Who would come to her house on foot? Cautiously she opened the door and her jaw literally dropped. There on her doorstep stood the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Tall with shiny, black hair that curled over his ears and onto his neck. With intense blue eyes and a dark complexion, he was a beautiful sight to behold. She raised her hand to her chest to quiet her racing heart.
My Fantasy Man? Of course. It had to be. He … Nick … was every woman’s fantasy. He had a slightly crooked smile and he was tall with bulging pecs, slim waist and narrow hips. Sex appeal exuded from his pores and thinking of what he could do to her … with her … Monica’s heart pounded. No wonder Jules picked him. He was perfect. How could one woman be so lucky?
“Monica Adams?”
His voice was deep and fit him as nicely as his skintight jeans and black leather jacket. The tool belt he wore hung low on one hip and he carried a red steel toolbox. All part of his props, she supposed, wondering what sorts of delights Nick had tucked inside that red box. Picturing him on a Playgirl calendar wearing only the tool belt and carrying the toolbox, she fought to quiet her breathing.
“Yes, I’m Monica. Come in out of the cold.” She smiled broadly and motioned him toward the living room. Julie had outdone herself with this gift. “May I take your coat, Nick?”
He looked at her questioningly. Shrugging, she amended her offer. “You’re welcome to keep it on if that’s part of the plan.”
He scratched his head. “Plan? Well no, I just hadn’t thought about taking it off. Yet.”
She shrugged. “Take your time and do it your way.” Damn. She hadn’t changed her clothes. Maybe she could offer him a seat … or a beer … while she changed. “When I was told you’d be here soon I didn’t expect you to arrive this quickly.”
“Actually I think I’m running late.”
He shifted his feet and she spoke quickly although he wasn’t the one who was supposed to be uneasy. “Whatever. You’re here now and that’s fine. What I meant is I would have worn something different and makeup or perfume or both and tried to look … uh … smell … more appealing.” Monica felt her cheeks heat up but he might as well be forewarned that she wasn’t wearing anything sexy anywhere.
“You look and smell fine to me,” he said, making a choking sound. “I wouldn’t expect you to dress up. My clients never do and I’m sure none of them worry about their … uh … makeup or cologne.”
“Really? I’d think they would. Can I get you something? A beer maybe?”
Nick’s eyes crinkled and his smile was so sexy it made her hot. Just the thought of having sex with him almost made her come.
This gal Monica was as cute as a pup with a burr in its tail and just as jumpy. You’d think she was the one who’d slid her pickup off that damned lane and into a snow bank. Maybe a beer would calm them both. Why would she offer her carpenter a beer, and a better question yet, why would she wear perfume for him? Was this woman out to seduce him? Or desperate for company? Not that he could imagine why such a hot babe would be lonely. But if furnishing a house, which the big bad wolf could flatten with one huff, like a photo spread from Better Homes and Gardens indicated anything, she marched to the beat of her own drum.
“It’s eleven in the morning and I’m on a job but what the hell? I’ll have one if you will.”
“Great,” she said. Leading the way to the kitchen, she grabbed two pilsner glasses out of a cabinet and pulled a couple of ‘light’ beers from the fridge. He’d always maintained ‘light’ was for sissies but he accepted it without comment. However he had his limits. Handing the glass back to her, he took a slug from the bottle.
“I see you have a missing knob.”
She looked down at her clothing and back at him, wrinkling her brow.
Chuckling, he added, “You also have a sagging door.” The back door was one of the things she’d called about.
He pointed and she followed with her eyes. Blushing, she nodded. “My house needs a few repairs but I have the knob right here.” She pulled it out of a drawer. “I just haven’t gotten it put back. I’m not very handy around the house and besides that I haven’t invested in any tools yet.”
Pulling a screwdriver out of his tool belt, he took it from her hand and as he brushed her thumb she looked up at him with an expression he couldn’t read. While he tightened the remaining knobs he tried to figure out what was going on with her. She’d called and solicited his services. “Why did you call me ‘Nick’?”
She raked her fingers through her shoulder-length hair. Shiny brown, it was streaked with blonde. Highlighted, Saranne called it when she had hers done. Not that he wanted to think about her.
“It said on the card that’s your name,” Monica said.
