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When she had realized that this was his house, a sadness had washed over her and he’d almost felt bad. He’d expected her to go off about her accommodations being less than adequate or give him some kind of hell about the camper, but she hadn’t. She’d just stared, as if the fact that Walt had built this with him had hit a nerve.
“Not your problem,” Jake reminded himself. Because she hadn’t been around and he wasn’t going to feel bad for the fact that he had been. So why the hell was he thinking of those big brown eyes and how they looked a little glossy after seeing the house?
Shit. Maybe she was upset. Her dad had sold her childhood home, which was clearly news to her. Maybe he should ease up on her. Maybe she was more delicate than she appeared—
His front door crashed open and there, standing in nothing but a small, tattered towel, drenched from head to toe, was Laura Baughman.
“What the hell!” she yelled.
Okay, so he’d been wrong in thinking her a delicate flower. Because what stood before him was a buck twenty of pissed-off, nearly naked, dripping-wet female. And he couldn’t find a reason to be upset about that. He leaned forward, beer in hand, and rested his forearms on his bent knees.
“Sure, come on in. No need to knock or anything,” he said, trying to keep his cool. But it was suddenly difficult to swallow for some reason.
“Don’t give me that. What did you do to my water?” she said, stomping inside, clutching that thin towel around her chest. That hard-dick syndrome he’d had been fighting for the past hour got worse.
Full cleavage threatened to spill over the top of the scrap of fabric that barely covered her, giving him a prime view of just how long those tan legs were. And wouldn’t you know, Miss Baughman must prefer itsy-bitsy bikinis in the California sun she came from, because he couldn’t see a tan line anywhere.
“I didn’t do anything to your water, in fact, I hooked my hose to the camper myself. You’re welcome.”
“Your hose?” she said with shock. “There’s no hot water. I got into the shower and found that out the hard way.”
“I can see that.” And boy, could he. Goose bumps pricked her flawless skin, and her nipples were straining against the towel. Jake thought he might lose his goddamn mind if she stood there like that for one more second.
The woman either needed to invest in muumuus and turtlenecks or he was going to have a real problem resisting her. Which meant he needed to try extra hard to keep his distance.
Then it hit him—this setup might not have been so grand after all. His eighteen-year-old self would have given his left arm to be in the position he was in right now. Laura Baughman, nearly naked, and privacy. She also seemed to be attracted to him . . . Was he supposed to ignore that?
Yes!
Damn his stupid conscience.
So in the meantime he had to stare down the sassy vixen who both tempted and annoyed him endlessly like the piece of candy he couldn’t have, and just . . . ignore her? Fat chance.
Maybe he could really push her buttons. Time to call a new play and blitz with seduction. He may not have played football in high school, but the band had had to attend games regularly. Besides, Jake had been told he looked like a linebacker, so that was close enough. He’d call the blitz play. There was a spark between them, and if she was hell-bent on sticking around, he would have to face her and all this sexual frustration daily.
Why not try to get it out of his system now, or make a move and have her shut him down and hate him? Was this brilliant or crazy? He didn’t know, because he was too focused on that little towel and how little it really was. She seemed determined to stay . . . but he had some doubts about that. But if she did leave, better to know sooner than later. At the very least he could push some buttons and get her to want to stay away from him. Yeah, this had to be a good idea . . . not crazy. He could put the moves on and when she huffed in disgust and bolted, he could finally get some peace. Time to play a big hand and call her bluff.
Good plan.
He rose and closed the distance between them. She watched his every step as he got closer. To her credit, she didn’t back away.
“You know, I’m a reasonable man.” He paused to take a swig of his longneck and noticed how her eyes riveted to the action. Either Miss Baughman wanted a drink or she just liked looking at his mouth. Yep, he needed to take care of this infatuation ASAP. And since he couldn’t lay her down to do it, he’d have to send her running.
So he’d piss her off.
“If you ask real nice,” he said, “I’ll let you use my shower.”
She scoffed. “Why don’t I have my own hot water?”
“Because you need a device to heat it, which you don’t have.”
“Obviously!” She motioned to the front of herself. “What do I need to make it hot?”
“I can make it hot for you. You just have to say the word.”
She took a deep breath, and damn, he liked what that did to her breasts. Made them inch just a bit more out of the top of that towel, which was now number one on his list of things he currently hated. Time to show Miss Baughman that he wasn’t the band nerd anymore. He was a man who had more than enough experience to give her exactly what she needed.
“I can’t live like this,” she said in a breathy voice.
