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He tried again. “I just wanted to…”
Frankie moved over to the next marked spot and drilled again.Nope. Not today.She would make this wine cellar look like a bunker made of Swiss cheese before she’d give him the satisfaction.
She stepped over to the next drill marking, which took her into the corner created by the staircase cutting into the room. They’d designed the staircase to hold bottles in custom cutouts beneath the treads to maximize space, and the rest of the racks curved around the corner. It was a tight fit, but she’d have just enough room to assemble everything. Well, she would if a certain irritating director would get out of her space. But no, he’d come the rest of the way down the stairs and stood directly behind her.
“Would you just…”
She drilled again, practically feeling the waves of frustration emanating from the large man at her back. This time, as she pulled the bit out of the wall, Jake reached over her shoulder and snatched the drill from her hands.
“Give that back.”
“Not until you hear me out.” He held the drill behind his back and crowded her into the corner.
“I already heard my dad question my abilities and you not say a damn thing. I also heard your footsteps on the stairs when you left me in the tasting room. I'm not sure there is anything else I need to hear from you.” Frankie crossed her arms over her chest and looked at her scuffed work boots. Even their footwear showed what a mismatch they were, despite what she'd felt in the hospital. She pushed that insecurity away and tried for bravado. She hadn’t done anything wrong. He'd been the asshole. Why did she feel so defensive?
“Not even 'I’m sorry'?”
She paused at that, and looked up. The sincerity and remorse in his eyes was new. Something about that caught in her brain, and she was hooked. Maybe if she let him have his say, they could move past this. “Fine. I’m listening.”
“About the other day, on the bar. It was the end of a long and stressful day, and I hadn't planned on…”
“This is your apology?” She shook her head in disgust and tried to step around him. He was just going to give her bullshit excuses? She'd been tired and stressed too. She hadn't planned to get off in his lap either. But she also had somehow managed not to shove him away and storm out of the room.
Jake dropped the drill and stepped forward, arms spread wide to stop her. "Getting to it. You were incredible and so damn hot. I wanted you—badly—from the minute I walked in the room.” He hooked a finger in her tool belt and pulled her closer until her hips bumped his. “There’s something about watching you work. Your body drives me insane, all of that power in this tight little package. It makes me want to set you off."
He dragged a finger down her bicep and gripped her wrist, turning her palm to the light.
"And your hands." He kissed her palm. "The way they take on the world makes me want you to take on me. Your mind pulling problems apart and putting them back together is compelling. Your competence is sexy.”
That last word was whispered against the sensitive skin of her ear as he leaned closer. Frankie jerked her head and stepped away, unwilling to let him off the hook so easily. He was turning her inside out with his words, but he hadn't said the ones that mattered yet.
Feeling backed into a corner, she went on the offensive, pushing him for a better apology. “Still waiting for that 'I’m sorry.' It was a shit thing to do, walking away like that.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I was trying to protect you, me…us, and I panicked. Like I said, I hadn’t intended for any of that to happen, and then it did, and I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t have any protection, and I was about to explode. The slightest touch from you would’ve done it. And I didn’t trust that I would have walked away from the temptation of being inside you. If you’d said so much as ‘Stay,’ I would have, and we’d both have more regrets. I wish I'd been able to find the words to explain in that moment, but I couldn't think straight.”
Well, that was certainly a different interpretation of events.
“So you were so turned on that you had to leave?” She knew she sounded incredulous, but this was hard to believe. She didn't have the kind of body that drove men mad. And yet here he was, Hollywood heartthrob, nodding in agreement.
“I had to get myself back under control.”
Control. That finally made sense. Jake Ryland thrived on control. She wrenched her wrist from his grip. “No, you didn’t. You were afraid of losing control. That’s different.”
“That’s not—”
Frankie cut him off, unwilling to let him hide behind his words. She pinned him down with a finger to his chest. “You were just as turned on as I was. But instead of letting me return the favor of a manual orgasm, you didn’t trust me to take control.”
Jake was silent. Frankie pushed on with her theory.
"I think you were scared."
He didn't deny it. The silence stretched between them, until Frankie broke it with a question that had been bugging her.
“You know, I realized later that there was probably video from that stupid camera. Should I be worried that any of it is going to get leaked for publicity?”
“No. You don't have to worry."
"Are you sure? Can I trustyou?"
