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“You what, sunshine?”
“I don’t play games.” Why had her voice so high and cute? Her statement had sounded more pouty and coy than filled with anything like conviction.
“No?”
“We should keep things professional,” she said more convincingly.
“What could possibly be more professional than keeping your customers happy?”
“So you think I should let all of my clients beat me, then stalk me? No thanks.”
His sexy mouth twisted into a self-deprecating smile. “You didn’t give me a chance to do aftercare, or to talk things through. I was worried about you. It’s called being responsible.”
That wasn’t concern in his eyes, no matter what he was trying to convey with his expression.
“You didn’t come over here to check on me. You came over here to pick up where you left off.”
He shrugged and moved away from her, strolling through her living room, dirty black boots on her white area rug. It gave her the moment she needed to catch her breath. Unfortunately, she used that moment to admire the way his ass looked in jeans—mmm, and the narrow waist tapering up to his broad shoulders. So much delicious muscle on the man. Too bad he was so full of himself.
He picked up one of the fresh lemons out of the vase on her coffee table and tossed it in the air. When it came down, he bounced it back up with his thick forearm before catching it again.
“Nice place.”
“Thanks.” She coaxed herself to calm down. Maybe he hadn’t come here for some hot and sweaty wall sex. Maybe that had been her imagination going into overdrive.
He sat on her sofa, looking massive and out of place. “Come here.”
Although she thought of objecting and kicking him out for real, she was hoping to salvage their working relationship, at least. Having to explain to her brothers how she’d lost the contract for such a big job would be humiliating, even if they only teased her for it. They weren’t the kind of guys who forgot about things like this, and they were the kind of guys who’d bring it up to embarrass her intermittently for the rest of her fucking life.
She sat primly at the other end of the sofa, aiming for an air of self-possession. His gaze dipped to her bare thighs. The dumb dress she’d picked barely covered the essentials. It was going in the garbage as soon as he left.
With a sigh, he reached over, hesitated, and when she didn’t say anything he grabbed her then dragged her into his lap. “I don’t do long-distance aftercare.”
When she tried to struggle off his lap, he held her in place.
“I know what we did freaked you out, Juliet. That happens sometimes, but running away and not letting me take care of you isn’t good for either of us.” He rested his hand on her thigh, and she found herself wishing he’d discover she wasn’t wearing panties and do something sexy about it.
“What happened last night—that isn’t going to happen again,” she said firmly, but melted against his broad chest. He still smelled good, and his arms around her were strong and warm. It sucked. How was she supposed to think of him as a monster and blame everything that had happened on him if he was being so nice about it? He hadn’t been laughing at her after all?
“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed. I thought we had a good connection, but it’s your choice. If you ever want more, just say the word.”
He ran his fingers through her hair, gently massaging her scalp, and her mind went to mush.
“What triggered the fight or flight?” he asked. “Have you thought about it?”
“I
felt stupid, letting go of control like that.”
“You were doing beautifully, but then something set you off.”
She swallowed, glad she was looking at the chest she was leaning against rather than his face. She didn’t really owe this guy the truth, but she supposed he did deserve an answer.
“It was when I was asking . . . well, begging . . . and you said no,” she mumbled. “I was humiliated.”
“I said no because I don’t like to rush certain things. Call me old-fashioned.”
Old-fashioned? She laughed weakly. If that’s how he thought of himself, the man was delusional.
