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Taking pity on him, I tugged the corners out of his grip and let him hold the box so we could unroll it to the length we required. I plopped the dough in the middle, wrapped it up, and set it in the freezer.
“Okay, Gran. Are we doing gingerbread next?”
She nodded, and before I could grab it, Jareth had the bowls and utensils in the sink. Silently, I watched him scrub the dishes. The muscles in his forearms danced and flexed. My breathing sped up and tingles of awareness sparked in me. I could stand here and watch him do this task all day long.
My grandmother’s throat cleared loudly behind me. Fire heated my cheeks as I reluctantly turned and met her stare. “Uh, um,” I stuttered, drawing Jareth’s attention to me with a tiny smirk on his lips. He’d totally known I was ogling him.
Gran and Franny’s peels of laughter had me covering my eyes with my hands for a few seconds. “Okay, sweet girl, gingerbread it is.”
“Once your beefcake is ready to get started.” Franny snorted in delight and fanned herself.
“Franny!” I half-heartedly chastised her, giving Jareth a once over. I bet Jareth had never been referred to as beefcake or at least not in his presence. He filled out his t-shirt and shorts in a way his suits never showcased. The tailored fit of the expensive bespoke fabric hinted at the muscles beneath, but seeing them on display this way made my stomach flip.
I realized this was the first time I’d seen him in anything this casual. Maybe being here in Bali was just what he needed, too.
He was insanely hot, and seeing this side of him, only made me want him more, but it wasn’t just the physical beauty of Jareth’s body. It was his desire to please me and make me happy. Times like today when I knew he’d rather do anything else than baking. Yet, here he was with me.
Jareth caught my assessing gaze, his eyes grew hooded as they raked up and down my body. Mercy! His gaze created a five-alarm fire racing through me. I pressed my hands to my cheeks to cool them down, catching my grandmother’s sparkling eyes filled with humor. I kept forgetting they were right there.
“Why don’t we start getting ingredients for the next batch together and maybe that’ll give you two a little time to cool off,” Gran teased me.
“Haha, Gran,” I responded with a touch of sarcasm and a smile to soften the blow. As I poured and measured the ingredients for the next batch of cookies, Jareth slid his hand around my waist as he set the clean bowl back in the mixer.
My heartbeat picked up and my breath caught in my chest as I glanced at him over my shoulder. I still had a hard time believing this was even happening. A part of me was afraid I’d blink and realize this was all just a dream.
Whether he picked up on my waffling set of emotions or not, Jareth brushed a kiss across the top of my head, and squeezed my hip before turning to face the camera.
“What’s next?” he asked, and my heart melted all over again.
CHAPTER 19
Jareth
Icalled my best employee and resident hacker. “Amelia.”
“Jareth, why are you calling me this late?” she grumbled.
“Don’t tell me you’re not still working,” I scoffed.
It was only 7:00 p.m. in the United States, and even though it was Christmas Day, I knew full well Amelia was trying to get into some place she shouldn’t. Her lack of ethics was only one of the reasons I hired her. Discretion and loyalty were the other two. Especially when I needed her help with Sherwood Inc. business.
“I’m a busy woman, Jareth. What can I do for you?”
“I need you to find someone for me. This one should be easy. I have no reason to believe he’s in hiding.”
“SI, business, or personal.” She knew all Sherwood Inc. activity was under the radar. I’d already reached out to her before I’d left for Bali with direct instructions on what remained on the to-do list to take down Perennial Prose Publishing Inc.
“Personal. Keep it discreet.” I peeked around the corner to see Hazel snuggled in bed, watching more Christmas movies. She didn’t know the meaning of sleeping in even on Christmas. She saw me, waved, and blew a kiss. I winked back and was rewarded with a grin.
Amelia grunted. “You know the drill. Gimme what I need.”
I rattled off the information. “Bill Jones, lives in Bali, Ex-Pat, used to work with my father at the textile factory, likely between 55 to 65 years old.”
The clacking of her typing got a little faster. In a matter of minutes, she had the information I sought. “Done. Check your burner. I’m texting you his address, an aerial view of the house he’s renting and the surrounding area, as well as any of the associates I pulled from his phone record.”
It was a long shot. “Did he reach out to the Sultons or anyone in their circle in the past few months?”
“Hmmm, not in the past few months. Let me go back further.” She hummed random notes to a sound I didn’t recognize. “No contact with them, at least that I can see. There are a few suspicious numbers I can look into, but nothing that stands out yet.”
