“What are you sorry for?” he asked softly, feeling cold now that her heated eyes weren’t traveling up and down his body.
She didn’t like the breathy sound of her voice, but she really didn’t like the way she’d objectified this stranger. She’d treated him abominably and she was ashamed. “I was looking at you inappropriately,” she admitted, stiffening her shoulders and trying to look anywhere but at his chest. Didn’t the man have a shirt?
His soft laughter melted over her tense shoulders until he said, “Don’t worry about it. I was doing the same to you before you realized I was here.”
She humphed at that and looked at the cottage, at the beaten up old truck with all the painting equipment and tools piled in the back. She wasn’t exactly sure how to react to that, but wished she hadn’t blushed so brightly. “Well, still….”
“What brings you out to Cape Elizabeth?” he interrupted gently.
Rachel stared at her hands, then back at the cottage again. “I’m…um…” it took her several seconds to remember why she’d actually come here. She looked around…the bushes, the gravel drive, the cottage…none of it made sense with this gorgeous, muscled stranger standing in front of her. All her mind could think and wonder about was how much she wanted to touch his skin, to taste him and bury her nose….
Good grief! She’d never reacted to a man like this before and she was horrified at her undisciplined behavior!
Focus! She wasn’t here to gawk!
What was she doing here? And where was the man’s shirt?! “Oh…I’m looking for someone,” she answered, relieved when her memory returned. Was that piece of fabric draped over the bannister of the front porch his shirt?
She stepped around the extremely large male and walked over to the piece of fabric and picked it up, refusing to lift it to her nose to smell it. Surely it smelled awful, wouldn’t it? But the man didn’t smell. At least not bad. There was something….just right about the way he smelled despite the sweat covering all those fabulous, taut muscles.
She handed the shirt to him delicately, silently indicating he should put the shirt on and cover himself in front of her.
Unfortunately, the subtle hint didn’t really work because the obnoxious man just tossed that shirt over his shoulder. Rachel wasn’t sure if she was irritated that he hadn’t covered up some of those muscles or if she was relieved that he hadn’t put the shirt on and covered all of them so she could speak with him intelligently. His exposed chest was making her stupid!
“Who are you looking for?” he asked, wiping his hands on a rag he dug out of the back of the truck.
“He’s probably your employer,” she said carefully, looking down to check her red shoes. “Mr. Emerson Watson.”
“Why do you want to talk to him?” the stranger asked.
Rachel looked at him curiously. Why had he gone tense for that fraction of a second? He must not like his employer, Rachel sighed. If everything she’d heard about Mr. Watson was true, she wasn’t going to enjoy working for him either.
She looked around, desperate to focus once more on her mission but she was having trouble with him standing there with his bare chest looking so enticing! “Could you please put that shirt on?” she snapped, glaring at him.
Emerson suppressed his chuckle, enjoying her discomfort. “Why? It’s hot and I have a lot of work to do today.”
Her hand covered her stomach which refused to stop fluttering like a silly school girl in front of her first crush. “It isn’t appropriate!” she almost growled. She flung her hands behind her back, afraid she might actually move closer to him and explore all of those impressive muscles.
“It’s certainly appropriate when scraping paint. The flecks get everywhere. I don’t want to ruin my shirt,” he replied, grinning down at her. He didn’t mind watching her wiggle since he was having just as much trouble controlling his own reaction to her closeness. He liked knowing he wasn’t the only one in this conversation that was impacted. Besides, he thought as he looked down into her green eyes, she was cute in addition to having a smoking hot body. It had been a very long time since he’d been around a woman like her. And he’d never reacted like this to any woman. “Why do you want to talk to Emerson? I’ve heard people call him some pretty bad names.”
Rachel’s eyes snapped up to his. “Really?” she asked, instantly worried. Then she regained control of herself. Shaking her head, she looked away again. “Never mind. I don’t care if he’s a horrible human being. I want to work for him anyway. So if you would be kind enough to direct me to him, I’d be very much obliged.” She forced a polite smile to her face, still trying to ignore her racing heartbeat.
Emerson almost chuckled at her cute, determined expression that did nothing to hide her nervousness. “There’s a house at the end of this driveway. It’s possible that who you’re looking for is there.”
“Possible?” she asked, hearing the improbability in the way he phrased that question. “So you don’t think he’s there now?”
Emerson shrugged, enjoying her honest reactions. The instant she knew who he was, the façade would go up and he’d get the rehearsed speech, the professional demeanor and she probably had practiced looking like a hard-edged investment broker in front of her mirror. He liked the softer, more insecure woman standing in front of him now. She was beautiful, soft and sexy. Not to mention, he really liked her shoes.
“There’s a ninety percent chance that he’s out and about. Who would spend time indoors on a day like today?”
The woman looked up into the sky as if she were seeing the clear blue sky and bright sunshine for the first time. “I suppose,” she replied, scrunching up her nose. Emerson saw the impatience in her face, and the irritation that her goal for the day was being delayed and suppressed another chuckle.
“Would you like something to drink? You look a bit thirsty.”
Rachel quickly shook her head but the man was already walking over to the beat up truck and reaching his long arm into the rusty trailer. She was so fascinated by the play of muscles over his shoulders and back as he reached in, she forgot to speak. By the time she found her voice again, he already had a bottle of water in each hand and was walking back towards her, extending one of the bottles.