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‘Great.’ Linc smiled back at him.
‘But what I said about being a freeloader still goes.’ Monroe walked to the glass and peered down at the garden below. ‘You got anyone to do your yard work?’
Linc frowned as he stood beside him, looked down, too. ‘No, the old guy who used to do it’s having trouble with his arthritis. I figured I’d hire a local kid to keep it under control till Dan gets back on his feet.’
‘No need.’ Monroe took his eyes away from the window. ‘While I’m here, I’ll handle it. Looks like the lawn could use a cut. You got a mower in the garage?’
‘Yes, but…’ Linc’s eyes narrowed. ‘Monroe, I don’t want you doing the yard work. It isn’t necessary.’
‘It is to me.’
Linc didn’t look pleased. ‘Fine. I guess I don’t have a problem with you cutting the grass every once in a while.’
Monroe figured there were probably a lot of jobs needed doing about the place. From what he’d seen so far, the house and gardens were huge and, oddly for rich folks, they didn’t seem to have much hired help. He reckoned if he devoted his mornings to helping out around the place, it’d go some way to paying his brother back for the opportunity to paint in this glorious room.
Jessie replayed her humiliating encounter with Monroe in her head for the thousandth time as she strolled over to the garage apartment, her arms loaded down with fresh linens.
By organising an outing to the local ice cream parlour with Emmy, she’d managed to delay her next encounter with That Man for a good three hours. Unfortunately, out of sight had not meant out of her mind. Of course, Emmy’s endless chatter about her ‘cool new uncle’ over the hot fudge sundaes hadn’t helped. But it was the memory of his naked chest pressed against her back that kept slamming back into her thoughts every ten seconds or so. Not to mention all the daft things she’d said and done before that.
Her palms dampened on the white cotton sheets as she mounted the steps to his door. Oh, this was ridiculous. He was just a guy, and a supremely irritating one at that, if their first meeting was anything to go by. She’d promised Ali that she would apologise and that was going to be hard enough, but she absolutely was not going to dissolve in a puddle at his feet as she had almost done by the pool.
Telling the butterflies in her stomach to go away, Jessie tapped on the door. No answer. She raised her fist to knock again when it swung open.
‘Oh!’ The sight of the tanned naked chest in front of her, glistening with sweat, had her gaping in shock.
‘Hey, it’s the bad cop. Jessie, right?’
Jessie’s eyes shot up to his face. His hair, she noticed, was a dark, burnished blond when it was dry, streaked with gold. With a red and white bandanna tied round his forehead, his tanned, angular face and that thin scar across his brow, he looked like some beautiful Apache sun god, she thought in amazement. Then she spotted the glint of amusement in his riveting blue eyes.
‘Don’t you ever wear a shirt?’ she snapped.
He grinned, sending some really annoying dimples into his cheeks. ‘Not when it’s hot and I’m doing manual labour.’
‘Or when you’re pinching a swim in someone else’s pool.’ The snide remark was out before she could stop it. There was something about the sight of those perfect pectoral muscles, or maybe it was the tantalising sprinkling of chest hair across them, that just seemed to bring out her inner bitch.
‘Well…’ The cool amusement in his voice made her bristle ‘…I figure swimming in your clothes is kind of dumb.’
At that precise moment, Jessie recalled exactly what he had—or rather had not—been wearing when she’d first spotted him and her traitorous skin flushed with colour.
Monroe watched the vivid pink flood her cheeks and grinned some more. No doubt about it, the woman was seriously cute. That mass of curly red hair, which was tied back but hardly tamed, and those round sea-green eyes. With the peaches-and-cream skin and high cheekbones, her face was made up of enchanting contrasts. He glanced down at her slim, shapely legs, showcased by the short skirt of her sundress. Her top half was hidden behind the pile of linens she carried, but he could still remember the feel of her lush breasts pressed against his forearm. She certainly came in one enticing little package.
Jessie hadn’t missed the quick but thorough once-over. The flash of warmth and appreciation she’d seen in his eyes wasn’t doing a thing for the burning in her cheeks. How humiliating. ‘What are you grinning at?’
‘Just admiring the scenery.’
Jessie sent him what she hoped was a withering glance. Unperturbed, he leaned forward and plucked the sheets out of her arms.
‘Come on in.’ He bumped open the door with his butt and strolled into the room.
Jessie stepped gingerly across the threshold. Calm down, woman, and don’t show him how much he unnerves you. She was trying to think of a neutral comment when she spotted the bed frame leaning against the far wall. ‘What are you doing to the furniture?’
He dumped the sheets on the sofa. ‘No need to get ants in your pants. I’m not stealing it.’
Jessie could see the stiff set of his shoulders and suddenly felt ashamed of herself.
She’d promised Ali she’d make peace with him, instead she’d been nasty as soon as he’d opened the door. ‘I didn’t think you were stealing it,’ she said quietly.
‘You sure about that?’ She heard the humour in his voice, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes as he studied her.
