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After I ended the call, I crossed to the windows at the side of the house. I looked out at the thick falling snow piling up on the balsam trees along the edge of the lawn. Tom Daniels was the very man who headed up the investment company that was under federal investigation.
Much to my chagrin, I’d stumbled across information that wasn't going to play well for him. While I didn't work directly for Tom, my investment company was part of an umbrella consortium with his. So, I was officially a whistleblower. What I didn't know was how many other companies were implicated. The only thing I knew was mine wasn't. I had already volunteered to turn over any funds earned through the consortium investments tied to the fraud. It was not fun to be a whistleblower, but I hated cheats.
Some people assumed that because my father was in jail for fraud, I was perfectly comfortable with it myself. They didn't realize what happened with my father had only sharpened my distaste for it. Shaking my head, I turned and walked down the hallway to the kitchen.
The minute I stepped through the archway into the room, my gaze was drawn like a lodestone to Jane. She was sitting at the table by the windows. Her hair was twisted into a bun, and she'd stuck a pen through it. Loose tendrils hung around her neck and cheeks, and her glasses were on. She looked all very studious and proper, and I wanted to fuck her.
In fact, I wanted to stand her up and bend her over the kitchen table. Maybe not the first time. Perhaps the second, third, fourth, or fifth. This need for Jane was not going to be chased out of my system by mental willpower; that much I was discovering.
She looked over, pressing her finger against her glasses, and I decided she needed to keep her glasses on when I fucked her. They were a massive turn-on. They were perfect; she was perfect. We stared at each other, and it felt as if a charge was lit in the air. I took a breath and dipped my chin in acknowledgment.
“Getting some lunch,” I commented.
“Okay. I heated up some lasagna.”
I looked at the clock and realized it was two in the afternoon. “You did?” I turned to look at her again.
She nodded. “It's in the oven right now. I made some more sauce. It just seemed like a lasagna kind of day.”
“It is,” I said slowly.
The lasagna with extra sauce was delicious. I didn't need to learn Jane was a really good cook in addition to being sexy as hell and distracting me from all semblance of sanity. After lunch, I returned to work on cutting the trim. The house had over thirty rooms, so there was plenty to do. Unfortunately, I was preoccupied.
Between my phone call earlier from work, the snow falling, and the house feeling oddly small, I couldn't stop thinking about Jane. My thoughts felt like a game of ping pong. I would hit the ball away from Jane, or rather my attraction to her, and it would bounce it right back. It didn't matter how many times I hit the ball because it always bounced back as if attached by a string. Hell, I felt likeshehad an invisible string attached to me. I was at the other end of the house, far enough away that I couldn't even hear if she left the kitchen or walked upstairs. Yet I felt her presence the entire time.
My resolve was weakening, and I was starting to see her point. She wasn't asking for anything amazing nor did she have any expectations. And I got it. I absolutely did. This would be a barrier to her dating unless she wanted to satisfy someone’s fetish for a virgin.
You're fucking insane, my sarcastic angel chimed in.You're just looking for an excuse to fuck her.
Maybe so, but what's wrong with that? She actually asked me to, my naughty angel said.
My good angel remained quiet after that in the corner of my mind. I didn't precisely understand my own reservations at Jane’s request anymore. Aside from this burning-hot yearning for Jane, I liked her. I really did. I could imagine something else with her.
Once that idea was formed, it hung there in my thoughts, a possibility that I both craved and repelled. It was early evening when I finally decided to quit. I had been working all day and had the trim cut for most of the windows downstairs. It was stacked in orderly rows against the wall. I turned off my tools and dusted my hands on my jeans, peering out the window.
The snow was still falling. We had to have at least a foot and a half now. I slid my phone out of my pocket and quickly texted our plow guy to ask him to wait until this was completely over. We didn't need to go anywhere, and there was no sense in wasting money on an extra plow. The driveway was long enough as it was.
I heard footsteps in the hallway, and it felt as if a thousand tiny flames flickered to life inside my body. Air rushed in as the flames gathered force.
Jane stopped in the doorway. Curling one hand around the doorframe, she peered into the room. “Oh, you have this set up as a workspace,” she commented
“Yep.” I was standing by the windows and swung one arm in an arc toward the windows. “See, these all need to be replaced. They've been painted over too many times. Some of the windowsills are rotten.”
“That's quite the project.” Her hand dropped from the doorframe, and she lifted her knuckles, pressing them to her glasses. She walked into the room. “Are you doing all of this by yourself?”
I shrugged. “We've all done a little bit of work here and there, but I volunteered to handle the windows. Considering my work schedule, it'll probably take me a year or two to get them all done, but that's okay. There’s no need to rush.”
Jane stopped a few feet away, sliding her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. That action had the effect of pulling her shoulder blades back and pushing her breasts forward. She was wearing this fluffy, soft sweater with a V-neck. I wanted to cross over to her and slide my hands under it, knowing I would find her silky, warm skin underneath.
“It’s still snowing,” she commented.
She took another few steps, stopping beside me and looking out the windows. She wasn’t teasing or flirting, not even a little. But the effect she had on me by coming closer was like pouring gas on a fire, sending the flames flickering higher and higher.
“How’s your day been?” I heard myself asking, my voice coming out gruff
She lifted a shoulder in an elegant shrug as she angled to face me, her lips curling in a slight smile and sending a sizzle of heat through me. I forced my mind to stay on track. Not that it was all that important, but I needed something to keep me from plastering her to the wall and kissing her senseless.
“What were you working on?” I managed.
