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Andrew knew the answer to that. They were sexy because he pictured those fingers on him. Running over his chest, digging into his shoulders, wrapping around his...damn. Now he was aroused.
Baseball stats. Old women doing aerobics in their underwear. The square root of 759 is...27.55. No, 27.54.It helped to be good with numbers.
“I photograph nature, mostly. Occasionally, people or pets, but mostly nature and wildlife. I got lucky and found a couple of galleries that exhibit my work. Now I’m working with a marketing group here to set up an online store for prints, gift cards, that sort of thing.”
“I’d like to see some of your work sometime,” Andrew said, but he noted that Jill looked hesitant. She seemed almost shy about discussing her work, and she didn’t offer to show him any pieces.
Jill watched Andrew over her mug, and made idle small talk with him about New Haven but her heart rate was going a mile a minute. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. That dirty blond hair that was just a tad too long. Scruffy chin and strong jaw. And, those eyes.
Those eyes that that were so steamy and sinful, they made her feel like she could melt into a puddle at his feet if she didn’t look away.
Just last night she had wondered what he would be like all grown up, and here he was in the flesh, as if her thoughts had conjured him out of thin air.
And oh, what incredible flesh his was. Jill had guessed Andrew would be good looking as an adult, but good looking didn’t begin to describe the perfect model of manliness sitting before her.
She casually let her eyes drop to his chest and was amazed at the hard expanse of it, evident under the snug fit of the sweatshirt he wore. Andrew’s jeans hugged lean hips and long legs and she suspected there wouldn’t be an ounce of fat under those clothes.
The soft, faded material of his jeans tugged tightly across his thighs as he raised his feet onto the rungs of his kitchen stool. Jill swallowed a groan and dragged her eyes away from his lap. Except her gaze caught on other parts of his lap as she tried to pull away and she couldn’t prevent the quick glance at his zipper or the imagined images of what lay beneath it.
Crappity, crap, crap. Stop looking, Jill!
She forced her eyes up, but even that was problematic. Just the sight of his hands when he accepted the mug sent Jill’s mind reeling in naughty directions. She shivered when his hand brushed hers and wondered what those strong hands would feel like on her skin, around her waist, or skimming up to her breasts. She blushed and had difficulty drawing her eyes to his face.
What was wrong with her? She almost cringed to think she was sitting in her grandparents’ kitchen thinking about a naked Andrew Weston.
I must be more overdue for a meaningless fling than I thought, Jill mused as she watched him wink at her over his mug. On so many men, a wink like that would look like such as arrogant gesture. For Andrew, it just looked easy and sexy. Just part of who he was.
She wondered if she could sleep with him. He sure seemed to be laid back and not exactly Mr. Commitment, which boded well for a casual fling.
On the other hand, Andrew was too close to home to mess around with. Their families were close. Things would be uncomfortable down the road when they had to see each other after it ended. Probably not wise to mess with him, even if he was a Greek god brought to life in her kitchen. She buried a sigh and focused on friendly chit chat instead of sexy fantasies.
Chapter Five
Andrew wandered toward the back of the 26thfloor of the Sutton Capital building. It was quiet with many of the staff out to lunch. He said hi to a few people as he moved through the floor, but he was hoping Jack was in his office.
On his way to his friend’s office, though, he passed Roark Walker, head of Suttons legal department and a close family friend of Jack’s deceased parents.
The older man with the close-cropped white hair and dark skin greeted Andrew with a warm handshake and hug. “How’s your grandmother? I told Mrs. Poole we should bake something for her and bring it by but she’s fighting me on it.”
Andrew grinned. He didn’t tell Roark that Jack’s housekeeper had already brought muffins by the house for Nora.
Roark spent more and more time lately at Jack’s house with Mrs. Poole. The two had an odd relationship. Andrew would swear Roark was half in love with Mrs. Poole but she spent most of her time scowling and snapping at him. Which was odd for a woman who treated most of the people in her world like they were family whether she’d known them for five minutes or five years.
“Nora’s doing well,” Andrew said. “Frustrated at being stuck in the house.” That was putting it mildly. Nora didn’t do bed-bound well.
Roark jerked a head over his shoulder. “You’ll find your boys out on the terrace.”
Andrew smiled. The older man always called Jack, Chad, and Andrew ‘the boys.’
“Thanks, Roark. I’m sure Nora would love a visit if you have time.”
Roark nodded. “I’ll make a point to see her soon.”
Andrew kept going and wove through the desks that filled the main office space for the administrative staff and walked to the doors to the outdoor garden terrace that had become an ad hoc employee lounge. One of the human resources staff had nestled bistro tables and chairs among the foliage and there was now a sitting area with overstuffed outdoor armchairs and a firepit.
The firepit was rarely lit, but they occasionally set it up and sometimes even roasted marshmallows out there after hours. It made working late on big projects more enjoyable if you could take a break for gooey marshmallows and melted chocolate sandwiches.
Jack and Chad were sitting in two of the armchairs, feet propped on the unlit firepit.
