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“Hold it like this.” The deep timbre of his voice stands the hairs at the base of my neck on end. “Now, place your other hand on the bottom, and only one finger on the trigger.”
I grow lightheaded with his tantalizing, spice-rich scent wafting around us while he cups his hands over mine and helps me line up the nail gun.
The fan pumping fresh air into the barn helps keep the temperature bearable, but there’s a sharp barometric shift in the atmosphere. A sensation strangely charged with static, and I’m acutely aware of how hard my heart is pounding.
Can he sense my body’s unsolicited reaction?
“Flex your wrist so the gun stays steady.”
Marcus’s breath tickles my neck when he removes his hands to grip the wood we’re attempting to pin. I depress the lever, nailing the plank exactly where we want it.
Still chest to back, he murmurs against the shell of my ear, “Good girl.”
Two words, seemingly innocent, yet they hold all the promise of a man who knows how to please a woman.
I shake my head, standing in a rush and nearly knocking him over. “Thanks for the lesson,” I squeak too loudly, too awkwardly.
Striving for casual, I prop an elbow on top of the unfinished structure as every cell in my brain screams,What the fuck was that!
He gradually rises to stand, watching me the entire time.
Holy. Tool. Belt. Marcus Matthews has a hard-on… forme.
Shock obliterates any manners I possess as I fully, and openly, gawk at the bulge straining his zipper.
I cast a nervous glance toward the back wall where the children are busy chasing each other with paint-soaked brushes.
“Will you put that thing away before one of the kids sees it?” I whisper-hiss, sputtering as I point an accusing finger at the rather impressive offender. “And don’t ever dothatagain.”
I don’t know which unnerves me the most, his total lack of embarrassment while he tactfully adjusts himself, or that naughty, roguish smirk he gives when he catches me still staring.
“Marcus?” Penelope calls from outside.
We drift apart in enough time to appear busy, and I note she hasn’t returned with the water she said she was going to get.
“Hey,” I greet her while concentrating on the tiny pile of sawdust I’ve gathered on the lip of a piece of wood.
She gives us a half-hearted smile before hollering at the kids to meet her at the van, and Marcus strides over to her with a frown. “What’s wrong?”
Penelope hands him a phone. “You should take this.”
“Bye, Heather,” Yennifer says, stunning me with a tight hug around my thighs. “I hope we see you again soon.”
My guard dissolves almost instantly as I slowly lower my arms around her. For the first time in far too long, I allow myself to absorb the simple comfort of a hug.
I wave goodbye to the rest of the kids, but Marcus and Penelope don’t utter another word as he takes the device from her and ushers them all outside.
The minute I’m alone, I nibble the tip of my thumbnail and wrestle with my conscience.
Helping on the ranch while Marcus was injured was supposed to mean getting closer to the target. And getting closer to the target should equal ample opportunities for me to snoop around. But allowing Marcus to slither his way past my defenses is unacceptable.
I was practicallymind-fuckingthe man, for crying out loud.
“All right, Sinclair. Time to focus.”
Steeling my nerve, I poke my head outside the barn in search of Marcus.
Whoever was on the other side of that phone call had both of their hackles raised, and I want to know why.
