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He smiled. “We were both distracted back then, but I’m not going to apologize for being a major diversion for you. Speaking of which, how about dinner at Agosto at seven this Saturday?”
“I’m painting my kitchen cabinets.”
“You’re kidding.”
She shook her head.
“I’ve been turned down for dates before—”
She feigned astonishment.
“—but never because someone needed to paint the kitchen cabinets.”
“This relationship has been a land of firsts.” She could have bitten her tongue. Of all the firsts, him being her first lover was at the top of the list. And from his expression, the thought had hit him, too.
“You, me, a can of paint. I can’t think of a kinkier combination.”
She rolled her eyes even as she tingled at his words. He’d switched gears smoothly from suggesting dinner at a fine restaurant...to making painting seem adventurous.
“I hope you chose a red-hot shade. Make Me Magenta. Or Kiss & Cuddle Coral.”
“You know, I’d never thought of the building business as sexy, but now I see how wrong I’ve been. Just buying paint must leave you breathless!”
A slow smile spread across his face. “If you invite me over, you can find out what else leaves me breathless.”
“I was planning on painting the cabinets by myself.”
He looked her over. “Why bother when you have a sexy construction guy to do it with?”
She was starting to feel hot again—and very, very breathless. Damn him. He knew what he was doing, but he was also keeping a straight face. “I don’t have the money to hire someone. That’s why I was planning to do it alone.”
“For you, sweet pea, I come free.”
“The kitchen cabinets are a little dreary,” she said unnecessarily, trying to cool things down.
“Add color to your life.”
She’d paint him red—he was definitely a red. “The cabinets are going to be yellow. Unblemished Sapphire Yellow.”
He cut off a laugh. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“I’ve already bought the paint supplies.”
“Great. When do we start?”
“I start on Saturday morning.” She hoped she sounded repressive enough.
“I’ll be there at eight.”
* * *
When Marisa opened the door to her apartment on Saturday morning, Cole was holding a container with coffee cups and assorted add-ins. He grasped a brown paper bag with his other hand.
“Doughnuts,” he announced. “A construction industry morning tradition.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking the bag from him.
She stepped back so he could enter the apartment, and her heartbeat picked up. He was strong, solid and masculine. And yummy. Forbidden, but yummy. He looked great in paint-stained jeans, work boots and an open flannel shirt over a white tee.
