The Sweetheart Bargain (A Sweetheart Sisters Novel) (31 page)

“I’m not a challenge,” he said. “What you see is what you get.”

And what she saw was very, very nice indeed. Hot liquid pooled in her gut, and a rush of desire raced through her. If she closed her eyes, she’d picture taking him back to her bedroom, ripping back the fluffy white girly comforter, thrusting her onto the bed, and plunging into her in heated, almost savage need.

A bone-deep carnal need brewed inside her. Need for this man—still, essentially a stranger—and for him to fulfill the fantasies that filled her nights and left her in a tangled mess of sheets. But at the same time, a part of her shied away, remembering how very easy it was to get caught up in the fantasy—and end up hurt.

“What I see is a whole lot of cabinets that need to be hung,” she said. The words shook as they came out of her throat, but they did what the commonsense side of her wanted—made Luke back up a step, his hand dropping away from her face. Disappointment curdled in her stomach, and her hormones cried foul. “So uh, let’s get to work.”

“Good idea.” A shadow dropped over his features, and the sexy grin disappeared. “Show me where you want the first one to go.”

The mood between them shifted from sexy banter to all business. She told herself she was glad.

It took them a few minutes to sort out the cabinets and their places on the wall, then draw a level line for the upper cabinets. Luke reached down and hoisted the first upper cabinet into place. She tried to reach past his arm to screw the cabinet to the wall, then realized her arms weren’t long enough. “I, uh, need to get in front of you to do this.”

He shifted his legs back, creating a triangle of space between the cabinet and his chest. She slipped into the space, hesitating for a second because she forgot why she was here. Her heart raced, every ounce of her aware of his body, so close.

She shook her head, refocused. Reached up and put the first screw into the wall. The drill whined, and the screw spun back and fell onto the countertop. “Whoops. I’m, uh, in reverse, I think.”

“A little distracted?” Luke’s deep voice tickled a warm path down her neck.

She flicked a glance at him. “I’m just not familiar with this . . . tool.”

The minute she said the word, she heard the innuendo, and the flames rushed through her body and up to her cheeks. What was it about Luke Winslow that had her acting like an infatuated high school girl with her first crush?

“Need some help? Working the tool?”

God yes, she wanted to work a few tools with him. The kind you wouldn’t find in Home Depot, that was for sure.

“No, I got it.” She pressed the button above the trigger, switching the motor to forward, then leaned toward the cabinet back. This time, the screw bit into the wood, then the wall, and sank in place with a final screech. She scrabbled on the piece of plywood serving as a temporary countertop for a second screw, then the rest in quick succession. “All done.”

Luke stepped back, and Olivia held her breath, half expecting the cabinet to peel off the wall and crash to the floor. But it held.

“Would you look at that? Miracles do happen,” she said. Pride swelled again in her chest, along with hope that maybe Luke was right and she could pull this renovation off. His brawn and her brains made a decent team.

He chuckled. “Renovation work is like anything else. The more you do, the better you get.”

“By the time I’m done with this house, I should have my own show on HGTV.” She grabbed four more screws. “Ready for the next one?”

“Just point me in the right direction.”

They repeated the pattern from before, with her guiding him into place with the cabinet, then slipping in front of his body to fasten it to the wall. The whole time they were hanging the cabinets, she kept up a constant chatter about the oak finish, the bronze handles she’d bought, the mental debate she’d had about laminate versus granite countertops. Talking kept her from thinking about the heat emanating from Luke’s body, how her hips brushed his thighs several times, how it wouldn’t take much more than a slight shift to press her butt against his cock. How only a few scraps of fabric separated her from him. A few snaps, a couple of zippers and he could be inside her, pressing her body against the wooden frame beneath her, sending her brain and her body into stratospheres she hadn’t seen in a long, long time.

“You want this someplace special? Or do you just like seeing me holding the cabinet?”

“Oh. Sorry. Right there.” She pointed to the next spot on the wall. They repeated the process, and her brain went south the second Luke shifted his hips behind hers.

The drill screeched, slipped off the screw, and dinged a gouge in the back of the cabinet. A
ping-ping-ping
announced the fleeing screw. “Uh, sorry. That one got away from me.”

Luke leaned in and whispered across her neck, sending a warm gush of want into the southern half of her body. “You sure you got this under control?”

No.
“Yes.” She fished around for another screw and this time got it in place. But her hand shook and her heart fluttered and her concentration had deserted her.

My God, when had she turned into this horny, distracted person? Even with her ex, she’d never been this bad or felt this worked up and ready to rip off some clothes and get busy
right this second
. She needed some air-conditioning or a drink or therapy.

Or a really hot time in bed. With Luke.

“That’s the last one,” Olivia said, scrambling out from underneath Luke’s reach before she caved to the temptation brewing inside her like a category five hurricane. “Thanks for your help.”

“Don’t you have some lower cabinets to do, too?”

“Yeah, but I can get those myself.” She just wanted distance between them. Wanted him to leave, go home, give her a moment to breathe where she wouldn’t inhale the tempting notes of his cologne and think about banging him on the tile floor.

God, she was a mess. She needed . . . something. Something that wasn’t six feet tall and sexy as heck, and came with a chip on his shoulder the size of Detroit.

“Listen, you order some pizza, and I’ll help you knock out the rest of these, and anything else you need lifted or moved.”

She parked a fist on her hip. “Why are you so determined to help me? Last I checked, you wanted as little to do with other humans as possible.” She knew she was barking at him, and not because she didn’t want his help, but because being around him kept sending her hormones on a roller-coaster ride.

He glanced in the direction of his house. Shadows dusted his features, echoed in the set line of his mouth. “I just need to keep busy.”

Just like that, the switch inside her went to
sympathy
. She had said those same words herself a dozen times and knew that ache that came with a vacant calendar, an empty house.

“I understand.” She leaned against the counter and rested the cordless drill beside her. “In the first few weeks after my ex filed for divorce, I refinished a table, painted the walls in my town house twice, and signed up for not one, but two book clubs. I couldn’t find enough to do, it seemed to fill . . . all those hours and keep me from dwelling on what went wrong and how I missed so many signs along the way.”

“Yeah.” He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t share. Didn’t open up. “I like pepperoni.”

She arched a brow. “You really want pizza again? I mean, that delivery guy is at your house so often, people are going to think he lives there.”

He shrugged. “Pizza’s easy and fast.”

“And bad for you if you eat it three times a week.” What was she, his mother? She shouldn’t care what he ate. Yet a part of her did, the same part that took in stray dogs and held on to a marriage that had died a long time before the papers were signed. She shook her head. She needed to quit doing this. “What do you say to some steaks on the grill?”

That got his attention. “Steak?”

“And potatoes. I also picked up some corn on the way home from work yesterday.” She bit her lip and felt a blush creep into her cheeks. “I’ve been craving some meat and potatoes, after one too many nights of reheated frozen dinners.”

“So I’m not the only one making poor eating choices?”

“Well, when you live alone, it’s easy to take the bad nutrition road.”

“Then my pizza deliveries aren’t so much of a mortal sin?”

She laughed, and pushed off from the counter. “Maybe only for your arteries.” She took a deep breath, gave herself a quick mental lecture about not letting her hormones do the thinking, then stepped outside, started up the grill, and let it preheat while she and Luke got back to work, setting the base cabinets in place. Once again, she had to get between him and the cabinet, but with the deeper base cabinets, there was less touching, more distance between them. She couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed.

They wriggled the last one into place, a small cabinet that sat between the refrigerator and the wall. Olivia climbed partway inside the wooden box. She got one screw in place, but then the drill whined and skipped off the tip of the second one. She switched the DeWalt to reverse and tried to pull the screw out, but the drill whined and the screw stayed where it was. “Damn. I think I stripped it.”

“Let me see.” Luke lowered himself beside her, their two bodies crammed together in the small darkened space. He reached up, located the screw, then put out his hand for the drill. “I think I can back it out and get another one in there.”

“Okay, good.” She started to back out of the cabinet, but he touched her arm.

“Stay. Just in case I have trouble.”

“But you won’t have any room to work.”

He turned to face her, his blue eyes smoldering. “I’ll figure it out, Olivia.”

She swallowed hard and stayed where she was, wedged against the side of the cabinet on one side, and wedged against Luke from shoulder to hip on the other. She inhaled the woodsy scent of his cologne. It teased along her senses, inviting her to lean over, draw in the scent on his jaw. She turned, just a few inches, as if she were watching him, and took in a long breath. His pulse ticked in his neck, and she watched that fast beat, wanting, oh, how she wanted to kiss that spot.

Have you always been this practical?

She kept retreating to that comfort zone, as if the water of adventure were too cold and she wanted to stay tucked in a blanket. Just a month ago she’d been so desperate for a change, a new life, and a little more spontaneity that she’d up and moved without a second thought.

That same longing for risk filled her when she looked at Luke Winslow. Desire for this brooding, dark man washed over her common sense, scared the hell out of her. It was stronger than her resolve, stronger than anything she’d ever felt before.

“I got it out,” he said, holding up the damaged screw. “Now I can . . . put it in again.”

His eyes met hers. Fire blazed in the blue now, and the beat in his throat hastened. Against her leg, she felt him harden, lengthen.

“I don’t care about the damned screw,” Olivia said, her voice husky. Then she leaned in and kissed that warm, intoxicating spot on his neck where his pulse beat a steady rhythm. He tasted like hot sunshine and dark chocolate, and before she knew what she was doing, Olivia was under Luke inside the cabinet, and her legs were wrapping around his and he was kissing her back.

The drill clattered to the floor. The screws spiraled away. Olivia didn’t care. She returned Luke’s kiss with a ferocity born out of need, out of a want that had been building since that first day in his yard.

His mouth tore at hers, hungry and harsh. She reached down and tugged at his shirt, nearly tearing the cotton in her eagerness to have it off. He reached back with one hand and yanked the tee over his head and tossed it somewhere behind them. She ran her hands down his back, sliding over the smooth contours, the rough pebbles of his spine. His broad chest pressed warmth against hers, and before she knew it, he was tugging her shirt up to expose her bra. She tried to slip out of her shirt, but the movement caused Luke’s head to bang against the drawer above them. “I think we need to take this someplace more comfortable.”

“Definitely.”

They scrambled out of the cabinet, onto the kitchen floor, the fire between them burning too fast, too hot to pause to go upstairs or do anything other than fumble her shirt over her head. She threw the cotton tee to the side, then moved into a sitting position. She watched Luke’s eyes widen as she flicked the hooks on her bra and caught the lace with one hand just before it slid down. The silky straps danced down her arms, and for the first time in forever, Olivia felt sexy, wanton, as Luke’s gaze roved over her and a ghost of a smile toyed with his lips. “What’s it going to take for you to move that hand?” he said.

She feigned deep thought, putting a finger to her lips. “A smile.”

The half grin on his face spread into a full-out smile, a smile she glimpsed so rarely on him that every time she saw it, it made her quiver. Hot damn. She took in a deep breath, then removed her hand and let the lacy bra tumble to the floor. The cool air of the kitchen hit her chest, making her nipples pucker, or maybe they were reacting to the way that Luke looked at her, like she was the most amazing goddess he’d ever seen.