“Ogres have warts.” He tilted her chin up with his Band-Aid–wrapped forefinger, examining her face. His eyes went smoky when he grinned. “No warts.”
Em’s breathing hitched in her throat when he placed a thumb just beneath her lower lip. “Not a one.”
“Definitely not,” he agreed, still keeping his hands loosely on her hips, still wreaking havoc with her forbidden bits. “So things get a little racy around here, huh?”
Em hid her gulp and shrugged her shoulders to fake nonchalance. Like she was a sexpert. “That? I’m so used to it, it’s like hearin’ someone report the morning news.”
Jax laughed, sort of low, which did squishy, unidentifiable things to her belly. “Can’t say I ever remember hearing Katie Couric use those words to describe the war in Iraq,” he quipped.
“That was probably Bryant’s fault, always tryin’ to keep a good woman down.” She giggled a little then silently reprimanded herself for behaving like an inexperienced schoolgirl.
While not off the mark, that wasn’t the impression she wanted to give. She was Emmaline Amos, general manager of Call Girls Inc. In charge of a multimillion-dollar corporation. In. Charge.
Jax cleared his throat, still staring down at her. “Anyway, that question...” he muttered.
She snorted when she remembered there’d been a reason Jax had asked her into his office. And it’s probably a sexless question, Nympho Nancy. Then she covered her mouth when she realized she’d snorted, flustered and red all over again.
This was a perfect example of why she and small talk with devastatingly gorgeous men were twains that would never comfortably meet. “Oh, my apologies! I forgot all about the reason you asked me in here. What can I do for you?” Or do to you?
“I forget the reason I asked you in here, too. But I have a better reason for you to be in my office that’s just as compelling.”
She totally backed away from the heat of his big body and the intoxicating scent of man, finally finding her footing. Em placed a hand at her throat in a familiar, soothing gesture. “Yes?”
“First, Maizy and I had a talk about her using the phone without permission—a long one.”
Instantly, her concern was with that sweet voice that had struck a chord in Em’s heart. “I hope you weren’t angry with her. I don’t know if she told you the nature of her call, but it was out of concern for you.”
Jax’s expression went from soft to softer at the mention of his daughter, his granite jaw relaxing, his eyes flashing pride. “She did, and we talked it all out. But you made quite an impression on my girl. She said you were so nice to her and your voice was pretty in her ear. In fact, she wondered about you again today.”
Em’s heart sped up, pushing against her chest. She lost track of how many times she’d tried to form a picture in her mind of what Jax’s little girl would look like—what precious face the voice was attached to. “She was really very sweet, and exceptionally polite. You should be very proud of her manners.”
“I am, and she’s a great kid—which is why I wondered if I could ask you a favor.”
Em didn’t hesitate. “Oh, of course.”
“I know we don’t know each other, but you struck such a chord with her, and she’s feeling a little displaced since we left Atlanta. I don’t know many women here in Plum Orchard, and I really need a woman’s touch.”
Love slave. He was going to ask her to be his love slave. Yippee!
Wait. That had zip to do with Maizy.
He leaned back against the wall, letting his long legs stretch out in front of him. “Seeing as you’re admittedly handy with power tools, I’m betting you’re just as good at picking out colors for a little girls’ room. We’re almost done with the renovation in Maizy’s room, and I want to surprise her with something that will make her happy.” He held up his hands in a sort of helpless gesture, his smile lopsided.
This smile, different from his half grin, changed his whole face from ruggedly sculpted to playful and adorable. “What can I say? I’m a guy with guy tastes. Whatever I pick out will unequivocally suck. I can just picture her wrinkling her cute little nose at me in that, ‘oh, you’re so stupid, Dad’ way, if I’m left to my own devices. But I need help picking colors for the walls—girl things, you know?”
He needed an interior decorator? That didn’t sound like love slave at all. But her heart did that twitchy-melty thing again. He really loved his little girl. No one could fault him for that. Em smiled at him.
How could she say no when it would make that enchanted voice on the phone from the other night happy? She agreed without even thinking. “Of course. I’d be happy to help you pick colors.”
“Furniture, too, maybe? She’s been bunking with me while my brothers Tag and Gage finish up her room, but she’s grumbled about my stinky feet on more than one occasion. It’s time she has her own space like all little girls should.”