Jaded (4 page)

Isabella almost laughed at how outrageously forward he was acting. “Conceit is one of them, no doubt.”

“I speak the truth.”

“You look like the kind of guy who doesn’t have any trouble finding women. I’m sure you’ve had plenty, so why don’t you just go hit up a bar and find another date for tonight?” Isabella was almost shocked by her own words; they’d flown out before she’d had a chance to think about it, but she was glad for it. She didn’t have time to waste pussy-footing around men. She’d call it like she saw it, no matter how hot the guy was.

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me a player?”

She shrugged. “You said it, not me.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Luke said, voice lowering and growing firm. “Excuse me for trying to change that. Just because you dated a bunch of jerks doesn’t mean that every guy is one.”

She avoided his gaze as she pushed around a couple bites of pancake on her plate. He had a point—but she was still pretty sure that her assessment of him was right.

“Thanks for the breakfast,” she said. “But I’ll let you know, if it was just a shortcut to getting into my pants, don’t put yourself out again. All you need to do is come here and work.”

Luke stood abruptly and left the kitchen, fuming, leaving a sick taste in her mouth. She heard him exit through the back door, and then saw him through a window on the far side of the room. He approached another worker and they talked for a few minutes; Luke gestured into the distance, and then back at the house, and then up at the sky, and then finally tore off his shirt. Her breath caught in her throat. There it was again—the unfaltering upper body. Still gleaming and begging to be touched.

She sighed, taking the last bite of her pancakes, briefly sad that this might be her one and only taste of them. They were amazing—the guy really knew how to cook—but she doubted she could ask him to make them again. She felt momentarily guilty about her attack on him—really, it wasn’t her style to assume things about people or throw stereotypes in someone’s face, but Luke scared her. He was igniting something inside her that she didn’t want lit, so it was better to burn that bridge before she could even start walking across it.

She straightened her back. It was time to take a cold shower, read the newspaper, and take a jog around the neighborhood. The less time spent around Luke, the better. She peeked outside again.
Especially
when he was half-naked.

***

It was nearing the end of the workday for Luke and his crew when a worker burst into her office, interrupting Isabella’s edits to her latest article, and asked that she come help.

“There are ten of you and you still need my help?”

“You’ll understand when you see,” he promised.

He led her to the backyard where a couple guys were bent around Luke, who was doubled-over and clutching at his eye.

She approached cautiously. Luke caught sight of her and said, “Thank god!”

“Are you okay?”

“I’ve got something in my eye,” he said, squinting up at her. Tears streamed down his cheeks and one eye was red and puffy.

“Couldn’t they help you?”

“They wanted to work,” he said, shrugging. “I can’t blame them if they’re hard workers. Besides, I don’t want their big ugly hands on me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, just blink a few times.”

“No, it’s a little piece of wood. I was cutting the frame for a new bookcase and I must have hit a knot because this thing rocketed into my face.”

“You were making me a bookcase?” She tried hard not to sound as pleased as she felt, given how determined she was to stand her ground.

“No, I was making it for your neighbor.” He laughed despite the trouble he was having with his eye. “You’ve got so many books lying around, I don’t know, I thought you might like it.”

Her curiosity about him jumped a couple notches, but she forced herself to ignore it and remain expressionless. “Thank you.”
Don’t reconstruct the bridge after you’ve burned it... Remember that...

“I just need your help. I can’t see, and it’s killing my eye...”

“Fine. I suppose that’s a fair trade—medical treatment for new bookcase.” She kneeled down in front of him and held his face in her hands. He inched closer to her and she was momentarily paralyzed. From this vantage point it was impossible not to notice the flecks of green in his eyes, or the nearly white-blond wisps of hair framing his face. And if those things didn’t seriously dent her composure, the proximity to his scent—that heady mixture of working man and bath soap—almost pushed her over the edge.

“Keep your eye open,” she said, peeling down his eyelid with a finger, hoping he didn’t catch the shake in her voice. “I need to see where it is.”

He blinked against the resistance her finger provided and she searched for the offending wood shard. The feel of him so close to her—mere inches away—was clouding her mind. She swore she could feel the energy snapping between them, thick enough to choke her.

“Why weren’t you wearing goggles?” She swore he was on to her by now, that he could feel the lust coursing through her veins. She gulped.

“Sometimes I forget. I get excited to work. I’m only human, you know.”

He paused, wincing as she pried his eye open further. “Are you sure you can see well enough?” He wrapped an arm around her back and pressed her closer to him. She sucked in a quick breath, mind careening even further out of control. She reminded herself to appear calm.

“Look down,” she commanded, realizing as his eyes alighted on her cleavage that she was, in fact, wearing a very revealing top. She could almost feel the charge in the air between them.

“Look up,” she said quickly.

It took him a moment to pry his gaze away.

“You’re so transparent,” she muttered, locating the tiny shard of wood and removing it from his eye.

He feigned innocence.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you concocted this just to get a pair of tits next to your face,” she said.

“Hey, come on. Don’t be like that.” He rubbed his eye, blinking a few times. “Man, that feels better. I can see again.” He looked up at her, wiped his eyes, and smiled. “And I like what I see.”

She watched him with narrowed eyes for a moment, unable to decide on a laugh or a scowl.

“Hey Luke—it’s five.” Jimmy tapped his watch and jerked his head toward the street. “I’m outta here.” The rest of the crew followed his lead and began packing up toolboxes and gathering belongings.

Luke slowly stood up, extended his hand, and said, “Let’s call a truce. I don’t want you to think I’m a prick, because honestly, I’m not.”

She eyed his hand and crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on. So I tried to get a date with you, can you blame me?” He extended his hand farther, looking deep into her eyes.

She kept her arms crossed tightly, contemplating the offer. “Fine. Truce.” They shook hands. He squeezed hers gently and then smiled, dimples and all, and turned to leave.

“Oh, wait,” he said, turning back to her. “I forgot. The apartment complex I live in downtown is being worked on today...everything’s down, the water, the air, everything.” He paused. “Do you think I could use your shower?”

She tossed it around in her head, fighting images of steamy bodies pressed together, of sloppy wet kisses and lathery, soapy pleasure... “Yeah, I don’t care.”

“Thanks.” He flashed the smile again. “I brought my clothes with me, just in case you let me. It’s been a bitch finding people to let me use their shower, let me tell ya. I’m gonna finish some stuff up first then I’ll be showered and out of your way.”

He strolled toward the front of the house, and in the rosy late-afternoon sun, she could almost picture him wandering down a beach, ready to catch the last wave of the day.

***

Isabella knew there wasn’t much time before Luke was ready for his shower, so as soon as he disappeared, she called her best friend, Lizzie, to run through the day’s events. As the phone rang, she found she was nearly breathless with anticipation to recount every interaction between her and Luke, which mystified her. He was a good-looking construction worker—so what?

“You’re calling me at 5:00 p.m., when you’re normally at the gym or still at work,” Lizzie said in a flat tone. Isabella was a creature of habit, she supposed, and her best friend knew her schedule more than anyone. “What’s wrong?”

“You won’t believe this.” Isabella’s words came out in one big exhale. “And I don’t have much time.”

“Well spill it, sister.” Lizzie was her confidante, her surrogate sister, and her best friend since their college days. She was also one of her few remaining single friends, which made their friendship somehow stronger. It just wasn’t the same when she called up other, married, friends to sob about heartbreak and cheating men while kids screamed in the background. She and Lizzie had opposite tastes in men, yet their track records were almost identical. Which seemed, to Isabella, to suggest that men were really the problem.

“Yesterday morning I woke up at 8:00 a.m. to find a construction crew outside my house, waiting to start a renovation project. A
three-month
renovation project.” Isabella waited until Lizzie’s surprised gasp subsided before continuing. “Right. Well, it turns out my mother ordered this and forgot to mention it. Completely.”

“Hey, there’s a new one for your list.”

“Exactly. The project manager is this guy...this blond, hunky man named Luke, who is so cocky I can’t stand it. But that’s the problem. I can’t stand him but I can’t keep my eyes off him. He is literally amazing to look at.”

“Get him in bed!”

“No. Lizzie, no. That’s not the correct choice here. In fact, I have to keep myself from getting him in bed. Because I realized today that I want to. Desperately.”

Lizzie was aware of Isabella’s recent resolve to stay single, but disagreed with some of the specifics. “What’s a little sex? It’s fine.”

“That undermines my goal,” Isabella said. “I can’t give in on this, not even a little bit. But anyway, this is breaking news here: he’s taking a shower at my house. He is going to be naked inside my bathroom. It’s like dangling a carrot. It’s actually a test sent from the heavens to see if I’m serious or not.”

“Doesn’t he have his own shower?”

“Well, yeah, of course, but he said something about maintenance work...I don’t know, but the point here is not why he’s showering here, it’s just that he’s
showering
here.”

“So, what do you think? Not even a little quickie?” Isabella knew there was a wink that went along with that sentence.

“No. Not even a little quickie. You’re the only one between the two of us who will be getting any, so when you do, make it good because now you’re having sex for the both of us.”

“Isabella, you’re my best friend, but I’m not sure I can have that much sex.” Lizzie laughed. “With how long it’s been since that last time you got any, you’re well overdue and frankly, I don’t have that sort of time in my schedule.”

Isabella sighed. “Yeah, I’m overdue, which is something I keep forgetting about. But whatever. I’ve turned over a new leaf. And I gotta go...he’ll be back soon, and he can’t know I think about him or talk about him when he’s not here; his ego is too big as it is.”

Lizzie laughed. “Put him in his place, girl. But remember, a little sex doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“But that’s the problem, Lizzie. With me, it always means something.”

The friends said their goodbyes and Isabella chewed on her lip as she paced the house, wondering what she could do to look casual and unaffected by Luke’s unexpected request. She thought about Lizzie’s suggestion, which was a valid one, but she knew it wouldn’t work out. Things always got complicated when sex was involved, and even if it was a one-night stand here or there, Isabella didn’t like how those left her feeling. The only safe route was pure abstinence until Mr. Right showed up at her doorstep carrying a wedding band and a signed contract that he would never cheat on her.

Luke reappeared at the house a few moments later, holding a bag of clothes with a towel slung over his shoulder.

“You really came prepared,” she said.

“I feel like I’m in college again,” he said, “except this time, the bathroom isn’t down the hallway and it changes location every day.”

“Well, you work hard; I guess I can give you a shower in return.” She led him up the stairs and pointed down the hallway. “The guest bathroom is down there.”

“But I want to use
your
shower.” He grinned.

“Why?”

“Eh, just sort of a mental thing for guys, you know?”

She couldn’t keep the blush out of her cheeks. She narrowed her eyes. “That’s ridiculous. You’ll use the guest bathroom.”

He sighed, a half-smile dangling from his lips. “I was just kidding. You’re so easy to rile up.” He lightly knocked her chin with his fist and grinned. “Really, everyone knows that the guest bathrooms are never stocked. You gotta go for the master bath—that’s where the goods are.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, mulling over his request. He had a point—and he was so good at redeeming himself just when he’d stepped over the line.

“Well I won’t keep you from your
fantasies
.” She cleared her throat and led him upstairs into her bedroom. “Go ahead. I’m sure you don’t need any more help.”

“Thanks.” He smiled over his shoulder and licked his lips. Isabella’s heart fluttered in her chest and she felt herself following him. He closed the door, slamming her back to reality.

She opted for TV in her bedroom while he showered, telling herself it wasn’t in an effort to somehow keep herself closer to the hard-bodied, naked man in her bathroom and possibly catching a glimpse of something more.

“Hey, Isabella?” His voice wafted from behind the closed door of the bathroom. “Come here a second.”

She wondered what he could possibly need other than a good smack in the balls.

“What?” She entered the bathroom and found him standing in front of the shower, holding a towel around his waist. Her eyes were instantly riveted to his naked torso.