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Holy God.
“Sorry,” I instantly apologize and then realize in absolute horror that I’m staring at his crotch. His very well-endowed crotch. Forcing my gaze up, it snags on his still wet, bare chest and I spend a moment too long admiring the sleek lines of his abs a little further south. “Um, sorry to, ah, bother you.”
I’m stumbling over my words, trying to keep my eyes above his broad shoulders and heat burns my face. I know I’m turning a humiliatingly bright shade of red and that makes it worse.
“It’s fine. C’mon in.” He turns away, grabs a t-shirt laying over the back of a chair and slips it over his head.Thank God.I can breathe a little easier not looking at all that masculine perfection.
Except it wasn’t all perfect. I noticed a cluster of long scars on his side and I wonder what happened.
Dash turns back around and his sharp gaze focuses on me. “How’re you doing? Did Fallon show you where everything is? Do you need anything?”
The fact that he’s a gentleman on top of all that hotness makes my lady parts tingle. I haven’t let my cha-cha lead in a long time and Dash Slater has me ready to turn, dip and slide.
“I’m good, thanks. Just couldn’t sleep,” I admit. Looking around his office, I can tell right away he spends a lot of time here. Besides endless, neatly organized stacks of paperwork, there are two coffee mugs on his desk along with a bag of trail mix, a tube of chapstick and a brush. Nearby, the closet is open revealing suits, t-shirts, cargo pants and several pairs of shoes ranging from dress shoes to sneakers to boots.
If I had to guess, Dash is a man who likes to be prepared for anything and everything. He’s a freaking boy scout. A scorchingly hot and potentially lethal boy scout.
When I focus back on him, he’s studying me with those amazing teal eyes of his. They’re such a stunning shade and lined in a darker indigo. Trying not to get overly distracted, I clear my throat and shift on my bare feet. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“I mean about interrupting your date. With my sister.” Chewing on the inside of my lower lip, I watch his reaction closely. Just because Cameron isn’t into him doesn’t mean he doesn’t like her. And why wouldn’t he? She’s fun, pretty, outgoing—
“I’m not interested in Cameron,” he says, as though reading my thoughts. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s nice and all. But, to be honest, I’ve always had a thing for redheads.”
My heart stutters and I’m not sure what to say to that. He takes a step closer and I can’t look away from the magnetic pull of his blue-green gaze.
“You have beautiful hair, Lake,” he murmurs.
My stomach drops when he reaches out and wraps a curl around his finger.
“Like fire.” He releases it and when it springs back up, the corner of his mouth lifts.
“My hair is a menace,” I say, voice far too husky, and self-consciously touch the curl.
But he shakes his head. The way he’s looking at me—like he could gobble me up—makes me nervous in an excited kind of way. A feeling that I haven’t had in far too long. He’s standing so close and I can smell the soap he used when he showered.Mmm.Clean and fresh.
Cha-cha-cha.
My gaze drops to his couch where a pillow and blanket wait. “I’m sorry for putting you out. If you want to go home—”
“Stop apologizing and I’m not going anywhere. This is what I do. I protect.”
I stiffen slightly. He makes it sound like I’m just another job. Which, of course, I am. I wonder how many beautiful women he’s guarded. “I’ll pay you for your services.”
He waves a dismissive hand through the air.
“But I should.”
“No.”
“But—”
“You said you’re a preschool teacher?” he asks.
I nod.
“Sorry, but as nice as your offer is, I doubt you can afford my services,” he states bluntly.
