Red Hot Obsessions (121 page)

Helpless to do anything but stare, his body still engaged for seduction, Josh just stood there, thoughts of protest and explanation screaming through his head. His mouth, however, seemed unable to form a single word let alone a coherent sentence.

She was wrong, so wrong, but he couldn’t spit it out. Couldn’t stop her from marching toward the door just as promptly as she marched in, throwing one last jibe over her shoulder. “Do yourself a favor and save your saliva for someone who hasn’t already figured out what you’re about.”

Chapter Six

So he knew
she was still hot for him. Fabulous
.

Of course, it could have been worse—he could’ve realized she still wanted him while she’d been with Reed. And how many kinds of awkward would that have been? Hell, it was awkward enough now. And damn ballsy of Josh to think he could distract her—maybe even make her forget he’d stuck his nose in her business at all—by sticking his tongue in her mouth and using his sex appeal to break her down.

No way was she about to forget his role in the recent fallings apart of her life just because he kissed like both heaven and hell and did other things even better. No way, no how.
Never again.

Juggling the drill she’d pilfered from Dan’s garage between her knees, Carissa lowered a panel of drywall from the wall in the living room. The muscles in her arms twitching, she turned it on its side and slid it across the room by the others she’d removed.

She’d spent the better part of Wednesday making phone calls to almost every contracting and construction company in the phone book, hoping to find someone benevolent enough to take pity on her situation and squeeze her and her little house into their schedule. But, as predicted, everyone was out of the office, tending to their busy agendas. She’d left at least a dozen messages, but, as of four o’clock, not a single one had called back.

Refusing to let the lack of response ruffle her, she decided to keep things moving along by herself until a willing replacement presented itself.

She blew out a breath, pulled her damp t-shirt away from her skin, and adjusted her ponytail, pleased with the work she’d done so far. Even if she wasn’t sure she’d done it correctly. It had been a long time since she’d done manual labor on a construction site and even then, she’d just been a kid playing around.

She wondered what her dad would think of her taking on a home renovation. Would he think her crazy? Or would he be proud of her?

Stupid girl. He probably hasn’t thought about you in months, so it’s not likely he’d give a damn either way.

Chastising herself for going down that futile road again, she succumbed to Pat Benatar blaring in her ear, wailing about best shots and girl power. Hell yeah. She could totally do this.

Except the drill didn’t seem to agree, as it gave way to a slow, drained battery death before she could unfasten another screw.

Crap. Why hadn’t she thought to grab the battery charger? She’d loaded half of Dan’s tools into her car; surely adding one more piece of stolen equipment to the mix wouldn’t earn her any additional jail time, should Dan decide to press theft charges.

She eyed the wall in which Alex had taken out his frustrations and twisted her mouth around as she contemplated her options. Saving the drywall wasn’t going to happen, seeing as it had a gaping hole in it, roughly the size of Alex Kelly and Josh Hudson’s egos combined. So…

She grabbed a crowbar and started yanking.

And damn if shredding a wall didn’t prove to be the perfect outlet for her anxiety and pissy disposition.

The lower half of the sheetrock remaining, she hooked the curved end of the bar around a chalky edge and gave a jerk that sent her fumbling promptly backwards when she met little resistance.

One of her earbuds popped out during the fall and snagged around her earring. But of bigger concern was that she’d somehow managed to land smack dab on top of the crowbar. Her tailbone screamed in protest.

“Ah, now that’s gonna hurt like a mother in the morning.”

Carissa started at the sound of the deeply masculine voice in the kitchen. Which, in turn, sent shocks of pain jolting down both of her legs. She bit her lips together to contain her whimper.

With an amused smirk stretched across his stubble shadowed face, Josh strolled into view, his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans. “I’d offer to rub it for you, but you’d probably slap me again.”

“Ha, you’re funny.” Ever so carefully, she pushed to her feet, muttering four-letter vulgarities of every sort as she did. Yep, this was definitely gonna hurt in the morning and probably the entire next week. “You think you could’ve knocked? It’s not nice to sneak up on people. Especially a woman with a crowbar.” With a grimace, she bent down to retrieve the tool.

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen enough to not be worried.” He rocked back on the heels of his boots and made an open appraisal of the house. “I’ve always liked this place. Lots of potential.”

Carissa eyed him warily. “I’d like to think so.”

“It’ll need a hell of a lot of work to get it there though.” He took a couple steps to the left, then a few back to the right. Bounced a little on the balls of his feet. “The floor needs re-bracing. You’ve got slope and way too much give.”

“Well, it’s not like I plan on having two-hundred and some pound Marines jumping around in my living room.”

“Maybe not, but whoever eventually buys it might.” He waggled his dark eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes and rubbed her butt. “Why exactly are you here again?”

“Was in the neighborhood.”

“Checking up on me, are you?”

He grinned. “If I answer that honestly, are you going to assault me again?”

“Are you going to assault
me
again?” She arched an eyebrow.

His eyes drifted down her body, slowing up a little at her chest and then her legs. He took a deep breath, sounded almost regretful, then shook his head. “It’s been a rough week. It won’t happen again.”

She continued to stare, gauging him. Fleetingly curious as to why she felt slighted, disappointed even, with his explanation. “So?” she prodded him. “To what honor do I owe your intrusive presence?”

He didn’t answer right away, just made his way around the room, poking at the fireplace, then at the windows. “I hear you need a contractor.”

Oh, hell no.

“I happen to know a guy,” he continued on and Carissa held her breath. This conversation was starting to sound eerily familiar. And they so were not going there again.

“If you’re here because you feel guilty about what happened with Alex, then let me ease your conscience, okay? I might have taken it out on you yesterday, but letting him go was inevitable. You inadvertently saved me a lot of time and money.”

Josh inclined his chin. “Probably true, but that doesn’t solve your problem.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She sighed, trying to fight off the urge to be open with him. He was the last person she should be talking to, yet… “I tried I don’t even know how many contractors today, but haven’t had a single bite.”

“You didn’t call me.”

“Nope, I didn’t,” she said, popping her lips.

“Why not?” His narrowed-eyed expression was more challenging than his spiteful tone let on.

She chuckled and stepped around him to retrieve her bottle of water from the kitchen counter. “Come on, Josh. I think the course of events over the last few days says it all, don’t you? Not to mention the obvious.”

“That was a long time ago. And we’re both adults, aren’t we?” He crossed his arms over his chest and she blinked against the sight of all that delicious, bulging flesh.

“Oh, you were thinking
that
?” she teased, unable to resist. “I was referring to your pigheadedness.”

That earned her a smile. “Do you enjoy being difficult?”

“When it comes to you, most definitely.”

“Well, you might want to reconsider your strategy, because it looks like we’re gonna be business partners.”

“It won’t work, Josh.” She gave her head a sharp shake. “I appreciate the offer, but…”
I’m not sure I’m desperate enough just yet to subject myself to that kind of torture.

“I don’t think you have a choice.”

She ran her hand over her forehead. Of course, she didn’t. But that didn’t mean she could just give in. “Why would you even want to do this? You’re so busy.”

He lifted his palms. “I think I’ve made it pretty clear I don’t want to see this house go down the crapper for you. I have a crew ready to start first thing in the morning. The only hang up here is you, Car. How bad do you want this?”

Carissa ventured a look directly into his eyes, watching sincerity storm in them. Ugh, why did he have to be so virtuous? “I want it. You know I do.”

“Then let’s do this.” He stuck out his hand and Carissa stared at it for a long beat, taking in his long fingers, his big, calloused palm, the scars on his knuckles…

The man seriously needed to get a grip on his nobility issues. But he was right—she wasn’t in a place to refuse the help he offered.

“Are you sure?” Because I really don’t want this to be another mistake you regret.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry I slapped you.”

He chuckled. “You’ll probably want to do it again before all is said and done.”

“I will?”

He scrubbed a hand over his bristled jaw, but it didn’t hide the faint blush that had crept there and across his high cheekbones. “I mean, with us working together.”

“In that case, I’ll try to refrain.” With that, she slid her hand into his, fairly certain she’d just taken a leap she might not be able to climb up from.

She’d just have to hope her rope held.

***

He needed a beer.

Josh drove from Carissa’s straight to McCauley’s Pub, an indulgence he rarely allowed himself these days. But then a guy could only take so much shit in one week without needing a beer back-up. Officially calling it a day, something he didn’t do often enough either, he pulled his cell from his pocket, turned it off, and tossed it onto the passenger seat.

He stalked toward the entrance of the bar, not at all surprised to see Fletcher’s flashy red Camaro parked at the front of the lot. For the last several months, the Wednesday night shift belonged to Heather, the stacked redhead his best friend had been eyeing up like a juicy steak.

Considering the primary source of his tension, Josh would have preferred to numb his brain cells without his best friend’s presence, but he wouldn’t get too picky about the company he shared as long as the beer was cold and plentiful.

He pushed through the clover-embossed door, immediately greeted by the bluesy sound of Johnny Cash. The strain quickly began to slide from his shoulders, as he surveyed the bar for Fletcher. The preppy SOB was nowhere to be seen. Given the bar was also left unattended, he quickly deduced the most likely location of his friend to be somewhere in the vicinity of a splayed pair of thighs.

“What’s it, self-serve tonight?” he asked the old timers engrossed in a game of bar dice, before he helped himself to a bottle of Budweiser and a beef jerky.

George, one of his Grandpa Hudson’s old war buddies, chortled. “Big Coors emergency. Had to enlist the help of your friend, if ya know what I mean.”

Josh snorted as he straddled a stool. At least Fletcher was getting some. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten laid. Come to think of it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d jerked off either. He refused to acknowledge how pathetic that was.

“Well, it’s about damn time,” George cackled, as the storage room door swung open and Heather strolled out, hefting a case of bottles. Fletcher trailed behind with two.

“Holy hell, man, I haven’t seen you out in a month.” Unloading the beer, his friend shared a private smile with Heather before sliding into the empty stool beside him. “How long have you been here?”

Josh brought his beer to his mouth. “Long enough to know you just got your dick wet.”

Fletcher chuckled. “I’m breaking her down, man, breaking her down.”

“Took you friggin’ long enough. You losing your touch or what? She’s been in town for six months already.” Josh took a bite of his jerky as Heather, of the freckled nose and fantastic rack, smiled mischievously from behind the bar. She set a beer in front of his friend and went back to work.

Fletcher ogled her ass as she wiggled away. “It’s been well worth the wait, let me tell ya.”

Josh snorted. “Thanks for sharing.”

Fletcher clapped him on the back with a chuckle. “Anytime, man, anytime.”

Josh bristled. Obviously they weren’t talking about literally sharing, but Josh’s train of thought went straight to the woman they
had
shared and the fact that he’d been keeping that detail a secret. But guilty conscience or not, it was a secret he’d just as soon take to his grave than hurt Reed—or Carissa—by admitting.

“So what brings you out?” Fletcher asked, pulling Josh from his reverie, before he took a drink of his beer.

“Week from hell,” he replied blandly.

“Dude, it’s only Wednesday.”

“No shit.” Josh chuckled. “By the way, thanks for pushing back the inspection at Henry’s.”

“Not a problem.” Fletcher dipped his chin in understanding. “You know, with summer break, the vandals are probably just a bunch of kids who don’t know what to do with their newfound time.”

“Probably,” Josh agreed, but he knew better. Kids wouldn’t know how to do that much damage without doing some serious harm to themselves as well. This was a professional job, no doubt about it. He rubbed at the back of his neck and sighed. “All I’ve got to say is the bastards better hope I never catch ‘em.”

Fletcher popped a peanut into his mouth. “Speaking of bastards, did Carissa ever hunt you down yesterday?”

“Yep. That’s part two of my fucktastic week.” He finished off his beer and slid the empty bottle forward.

“I tried to assure her that our intentions were honest, but when she’s got a bug up her ass, there ain’t no telling her otherwise. Cripes, she’s like a little sister to all of us.” He craned his head from side to side. “Except, you know, I’ve slept with her.”

Josh flinched.

“Yeah, that’s kinda weird, isn’t it? And she’s too damn hot for sister material anyway.” Fletcher chuckled. “So what’d she have to say? She was pretty pissed when she left the flip.”

“She was pretty pissed when she got to me, too. She blamed the whole Kelly debacle on me and, in not so many words, told me where I could shove my help.” Which, come to think of it, wasn’t exactly fair. She didn’t seem the slightest bit peeved at Dan or Fletcher for their involvement. What the hell was that about?