AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The doorbell rang.
She whirled around to stare at the door, eyes widening in panic as she raced toward it, pressing her body against the cool wood to look through the peep hole. Sure enough, there stood Mr. Fix-It, his eyes just as crinkly and breathtaking as yesterday.
And once again, she wasn’t wearing any pants.
“Oh, comeon!” Carly cursed, hurling herself toward her bedroom while snatching the robe from her body. She jammed her legs through a mostly-clean pair of jeans, barely pausing to zip them before donning a bra and whipping through her dresser for a clean shirt.
No dice. The only thing she’d had time to wash in the last couple of weeks were her chef’s whites, which stood at attention in her closet. Her hand closed around the only clean item in the drawer, a New York Islanders T-shirt her brother had bought for her at least a decade ago. It was barely a step away from dust rag territory, and every time Carly laid eyes on it, she was tempted to toss it, but she could never manage to do the deed because despite its horrible state, the damned thing was beyond comfortable. She shook her head. There had to be something else. There had to be…
The doorbell rang again.
“Goooooood enough.” Carly yanked the holey old thing over her head, certain she was testing the limits of the ancient fabric with her less than gentle maneuvering. “Coming!” As much as she wasn’t looking forward to coming face to face with this guy again, at least this time she wasn’t in her underwear.
Carly swung the front door open and tried not to gasp for air. “Hi.” It was all she could manage without passing out.
“Morning.” His eyes zoned in and settled right on the Islanders logo emblazoned across her chest. “Hey, nice shirt.”
Carly bristled. God, he was so unnervingly smart-assed! If she hadn’t been totally out of breath, she’d have flipped back one of the tart comments rattling around in her brain. As it stood, she could barely stay upright without wanting to collapse.
Contractor Guy’s perfect-summer-sky eyes traveled up to her face, and his smile shifted, dropping slightly. “You look…uh, different.”
She finally caught her breath. “I’m dressed.” Carly heard the naughty inference only after the quip had crossed her lips. “I mean! You know, I’m not in my bathrobe.” Flushing all the way to her ears, she made a mental note not to speak again until more oxygen had reached her brain.
But instead of continuing to make fun of her, Contractor Guy cut her some slack with an easygoing laugh. “No, it’s your hair.” He motioned toward his shoulders, mimicking the way her hair spilled over her own. “I guess you had it pulled back yesterday.”
“Oh.” Carly’s hand shot up subconsciously, and she tried to smooth the tangled mess to no avail. Nine times out of ten, she braided it to keep it out of her way, but in her haste to find clothes, she’d forgotten all about it.
“Ah, anyway.” He shifted his weight. “I just wanted to let you know I’m here. I usually start early, but I had to get some tools together for the demolition, so today was an exception.”
Her brows paved the way for her frown. “It’s early now.”
“It’s after nine,” he replied teasingly. Wow, his eyes were stunning, the same piercing blue of the cornflowers in her grandmother’s tiny garden plot back in Brooklyn.
Carly blinked, rattling herself back to reality. “Uh-huh.” She tipped her head in an easy translation ofI fail to see your point. “How early do you normally start?”
“I’d like to shoot for seven-thirty, if it’s okay with you.”
Carly couldn’t help it. She laughed. Out loud.
“That’s not early. It’s cruel and unusual.”
“Nah.” He shrugged, the wide expanse of his shoulders rising and falling with casual ease. “Cruel and unusual is trying to do manual labor outside in the dead heat of a summer afternoon. It’s easier to start early and end early. Unless that’s a problem.”
She shook her head. “I’m not the one who has to be out there with the roosters. Be my guest.” After all, it would make it a whole lot easier to give him the slip if she was nestled in her bed clear on the other side of the house.
“Okay then. I guess I’ll get to it.”
As Carly replaced the door in its sturdy oak frame, she turned to cast a glance at the sun-filled windows on the rear wall of the house.
Yup. She could steer clear of those. Forgetting he was there was going to be a piece of cake.
* * *
Olive oil,pancetta, bay leaves, red peppers, olive oil…
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Carly stopped, pencil hovering over the page for a minute before she frowned and crossed the repeat offender off her shopping list. For God’s sake, how was she supposed to get anything done with all that racket going on outside? Not to mention the racket going on between her thighs every time the man she swore she’d avoid crossed her line of sight.
