His gorgeous face furrows in confusion. “What problem?”
“Oh, it’s nothing.” I dismiss his question and back up, knowing I need to leave. It’s tricky enough being in his company as it is, my willpower and conscience constantly being tested to the limit, but here now, when he’s half-naked, sweaty, and his muscles are pulsating, it’s beyond perilous. “I just needed to check some measurements.”
“At eight o’clock in the evening?” he asks, a small smile on his face. It’s only a hint of the full beam I’ve seen and loved, but it’s still wonderful, nevertheless. Inviting. Reassuring. It makes it all too easy to confide in him.
“It’s not really nothing,” I relent on a sigh, silently questioning my need to tell him. I should be leaving. Walking out. Removing myself from this situation. “The manufacturers have made a monumental cock-up.” I shrug. “I’m trying to figure out a way around it, and I’m not coming up with much.”
Jack moves forward, and as a consequence I instinctually move back. He stops, regarding me closely. “Want to show me?”
“Yes.” My answer comes without hesitation, stunning me, and he smiles, this time brighter, getting a little bit closer to the blinding, signature Jack Joseph smile. I find myself returning it, unable to stop myself. “Please,” I add.
He drops his shovel and approaches me, and my damn eyes are glued to his the entire way, my stomach doing cartwheels, until he stops a few paces before me. “After you,” he murmurs.
I quickly turn and head back inside, feeling him close behind me. My whole being lights up, and I close my eyes and silently pray for strength. Why did I accept his offer? I glance over my shoulder as we enter the huge back room, meeting his stare again. “You should put a T-shirt on,” I say out of the blue, my thoughts falling out of my mouth.
“I should?” He looks down his chest. “Is it distracting you?” His teasing smile as he looks up through his lashes sets off a carnival of beats in my blood.
I shake my head and return my focus forward, adamant that I won’t feed his playfulness. “Very cute.”
“You’re quite cute yourself.”
His words, a repeat from that night, have my steps faltering too much for him not to notice. Ignore it, I warn myself silently, pulling it together and concentrating on keeping myself that way, arriving at the table where my drawings are laid and pointing with a shaking finger at the one detailing the roof. “They’ve miscalculated the weight of the roof.”
His hand appears and wraps around my wrist, and my whole bloody body bursts into flames. I flick my eyes up to his, tensing every muscle in my body, fighting back the heat. “Why are you shaking?” he asks, squeezing my wrist.
“Because you make me nervous.” I come right out and say it, and regret it just as fast. “I mean…” My words die on my lips. There’s no going back from that. “Please, Jack,” I beg him. “Can we just stick to business?”
He slowly peels his hold away and rests his hands on the table. “Right. Business,” he confirms, looking over the drawing. “How much have they miscalculated by?”
I silently thank him for being professional, even though he’s chosen to ignore my request to cover his gorgeous chest. The smell of him is potent this close, his body nearly touching mine. “Two-hundred kilos.”
He whistles, confirming the shit I’m in. “I’m no structural engineer, but even I know that puts us right up shit street.”
I sag next to him. “I know.”
“This is seriously going to hinder the progression of the project.”
“I know.” I sag some more.
“And we have a four-month deadline before Colin’s launch. It’s already tight.”
My hands hit the table and my head drops. “Are you going to say anything that will make me feel better? I was hoping for a miracle.”
He laughs, light and lovely. “I’m a contractor, not a miracle worker, Annie.”
I pout to myself, feeling more and more despondent by the second. “I could cry.” My blow-your-mind project is just an average project without that roof.
“You look gorgeous when you pout,” Jack says softly.
My lips quickly un-pout themselves and purse instead. “You look gorgeous all the time.” I look around me, startled. Who said that?
Jack laughs, and the sound seems to dilute my problem. For a second, everything fades and all that matters is listening to his laugh. “Keep it business, please,” he teases.
“You started it.” I shake my head at myself in dismay, thinking I need to fix my brain-to-mouth filter, pronto. I feel him gazing at my profile, and I peek out of the corner of my eye to him, assessing him, taking him in. “Why are you really here this late at night?” I ask, stalling on fixing that filter. I don’t believe for a moment that he likes getting his hands dirty once in a while. There’s something more to it, and though I damn myself for it, I can’t help wondering more and more about Jack and his wife.
“I needed to get out of the house.” His answer is very dismissive, and for once he doesn’t look me in the eye, choosing to look down at the drawings instead.
His evasiveness just amps up my curiosity. “To get some fresh air?” I ask.
“Something like that.”
I stare at his profile, my hand taking on a mind of its own and reaching up to his neck, where the scratches seem to glow at me. Jack catches my hand before it lands on his skin, prompting my eyes to jump to his. The dullness of his grays has regained a little bit of sparkle again as he holds my stare and my hand, gently working his fingers around mine.
I find my eyes taking in our tangle of fingers, the sight morphing into the tangle of our sweaty bodies rolling around in a hotel bed, our mouths kissing wildly, our moans drenching the air. I lose myself in those thoughts, my mind tunneling, my body feeling it all over again.
“You’re in the hotel again, aren’t you?” Jack whispers, hunkering down to meet my gaze. “Reliving that night like I am every single fucking minute of my life.”
I can’t talk. Can’t move. The rush of feelings has paralyzed me, leaving me at the mercy of the man who’s consumed my mind, body, and soul since he found me in that bar.
“I can see it all in your eyes, Annie.” He moves forward, and the heat from his breath hitting my face spreads through my body like wildfire. He enraptures me, knocks all sense out of me. His wife. What am I doing?
I swiftly pull my hand away, turning back toward the table and holding the edge for support. I stare down at the drawings, my head whirling. “You promised me.”
“Jesus, Annie, how the hell are you doing this? You make it look easy.”
“Because it is.” I spit at the table. “Because there is nothing there for me, so stop trying to find anything. You’re wasting your time.” I wince at my own scathing words, but I have to remain strong. Easy? He thinks this is easy? The notion makes me mad.