Untouched: 2 (Rough Boys)

At the sound of tires on the gravel drive, Mason shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
Damn, I hear the swish of her tires and I’m already adjusting my junk.
He nudged his fly, clamping down on the urge to growl his frustration. Hell, frustration didn’t come close to describing the torment sweet little Eva Frank provided him on a daily basis.

She came to work every day at the same time, at five minutes to seven in the morning. By 7:01, she was on the radio, directing the loggers in Mason’s family company to the jobsites. By 7:02, he was aching.

In approximately thirty-five seconds, she’d come through the front door of the office he ran out of his home and pierce him with her dark gaze.

As the seconds ticked by, he listened to the
whir
of the heater and the
hum
of the computer. His heart quickened in anticipation and he thrashed himself. It wasn’t as if he could date her. Not only was she his employee but he had no intention of sticking around this Podunk town.

Her footsteps sounded on the walk leading to the door. The office was an addition on the side of the hundred-year-old farmhouse where he’d grown up. His father had added the office after Mason had moved to Seattle. Before his father’s passing and Mason’s return, he hadn’t even seen the new construction.

He threw a wild glance around the office, hoping to tear his thoughts from the sway of Eva’s hips and the luscious curve of her lower lip. His cock stiffened painfully in the prison of his jeans and he clenched his jaw.

Five…four…three…

She opened the door two seconds early. He spun in his chair, carefully keeping his lower body beneath the desk so she didn’t detect his state of arousal.

Breezing in, she rooted him with her intense stare. “Morning, Mason.” The rich scent of vanilla reached him, sending his pulse racing. God, he loved that perfume on her. She’d worn it since high school. And her hair was especially pretty today, loose around her narrow shoulders, the front falling into one eye alluringly. He imagined how it would feel to run his fingers through those heavy locks.

“Hi, Eva. How were the roads?” He could give a rat’s ass about the state of the highways, especially if she was wearing that red blouse that highlighted her full breasts.

Fuck, I’m in for a long day.
Maybe he’d head out into the field and cut down a tree or two to release his pent-up energies. He’d planned an entire day at his desk, but at least wanted to stand up without a tent in his pants. With Eva sitting five feet away, he was going to fail. Big-time.

Wishing he could control himself, he turned to watch her take off her coat. Everything about her movements enticed him. Each time he watched her, he thought of it as unwrapping a present.

First, she unwound her camel-colored scarf. The sight of her delicately arching throat made his mouth water. She meticulously folded the ends of her scarf together and rolled it into a neat bundle. Setting the garment on the side of her desk, she then fluffed out her hair.

The mahogany tendrils fanned over her shoulders and hung to her breasts, drawing his gaze. Her coat would be next. He licked his lips eagerly. Was she wearing the red blouse?

“Any calls come in yet?” She shot a glance at the phone. The light blinked crazily, indicating there was more than one call. He fleetingly remembered hearing it ring early this morning but he’d had a bit too much scotch last night and had stayed in bed too late.

“A few, yeah.” He couldn’t stop looking at her. Had she been this hot in high school? The answer was a swift
hell, yes
. Since she was a few years younger, they’d revolved in different circles but he’d always followed her with his gaze. He’d never asked her out because she’d been with Bill forever.

Now she was a widow in her prime and he was divorced…

Snap out of it. She’s your employee.

“I’ll pick up the messages in a moment.” She smiled, the corners of her plump lips turning up as if to say she knew he’d spent last night wallowing in lonely self-pity and drinking too damn much.

She continued to unwrap her stunning figure. The belt cinching her tiny waist was loosened and then she popped the buttons, her slender fingers sending spikes of need straight to his groin.

For hours, he’d find himself staring at her hands. Were they warm or cold? He kept the office warm enough but her desk was placed near the door where she might catch a draft. He knew by looking they were smooth. And she wore no wedding band since her husband’s passing.

The final button was unfastened and the coat gapped to reveal not the red shirt of his desires but a trim white button-down. The button at the fullest part of her breasts strained a bit.

He ran his hand through his hair. Christ, would he never get a break?

The phone started ringing again and she lunged forward and snatched it up before he could. Standing near him—too near—she held the phone between ear and shoulder.

“Dorsey Forestry.”

Mason shuffled some papers to distract himself. But it didn’t work. She shifted onto one foot, bringing her round hip inches from his shoulder.

His cock throbbed in the confines of his jeans. Did she have any idea how gorgeous she was? Always had been? He’d been half in love with her in high school—all the boys were. But no one dared to ask her out with Bill guarding her. Later, when Mason had heard she’d married her high school sweetheart, he’d been a little envious. Plus, her and Bill’s relationship had lasted much longer than his marriage. The ink on his marriage license was still wet when he signed the divorce papers.

Drawing a deep breath, he hoped to gain precious control of his physical response to her. Another fail. All he did was fill his head with her scent. The vanilla lay on the back of his tongue, as decadent as the woman herself.

“Sure, Danny, just head up there and start up the hog. We need to start hauling those logs out of there before the crew can come in to select cut.”

Mason focused on the conversation. He
should
get up to the jobsite and oversee things. They were logging off a parcel in three stages. The largest trees had been removed first, then a second round had taken the next in size. The smallest trees would go to a local hardwood dealer and be made into lengths of molding for homes. The whole operation had been set up by Eva and by Mason’s father before he passed away.

Mason’s gaze flicked up to the photograph of his dad on the wall over his desk—now Mason’s desk. Earl Dorsey was in his forties when the picture was taken and he’d been in his prime. Six-feet tall with thick, dark hair and muscled from the business he’d become known for in northwestern Pennsylvania.

When Mason looked at his dad’s smile, he couldn’t help but smile too. His father had one of those contagious personalities, always happy and the life of the pub, church picnic or local diner. The diner Mason now frequented.

His stomach rumbled at the thought of a big logger’s breakfast. Eva swung her gaze to him, eyes dancing with mirth. She continued to talk to Danny on the phone, hammering out the details of how many loads of logs the team thought they could haul today.

Mason gave up trying to look occupied with work and stared at her openly. A light flush climbed her throat and cheeks, making him think of a winter rose. Her blush against her dark coloring and white shirt were truly striking.

Her voice changed pitch as she spoke to the captain of their runner crew, going from businesslike to apprehensive. What was going on now?

Dorsey Forestry had four teams on various jobs at all times. His father had coined the term “runner crew” because he needed able-bodied men to go into an area on a moment’s notice to help out. Right now Team Oak was down and needed to hit schedule. Danny would ensure they did.

Mason was about to reach for the second phone to cut in on their conversation when her words supplied the missing piece of the puzzle.

“I’m not sure I can make Osborn’s retirement party tonight.” She listened intently while picking at a fingernail. “I’ll try. Yes, I know you think I should supply my polenta and chicken tartlets. You told me yesterday.” She laughed, a high, carefree sound that set Mason’s blood on fire. His cock stiffened further and he crossed his legs to keep her from noticing the swell in his jeans. God, to get her into bed and hear that laugh…

Stop! She’s your employee, a widow who might not even be over her husband’s death.

It wasn’t even five minutes after seven and he was dreaming of leading her through the house to his bedroom and tumbling into the big bed. He blasted that thought from his head with one very solemn one—
I don’t plan to stick around here for long.

He’d been running his dad’s operation for close to a year, having dumped his life in Seattle and returned to the area after his father keeled over from a heart attack. At first, Mason thought he could convince himself that he enjoyed the logging business, but he missed his friends and the bustle of the city.

In Seattle, his job as a lumber consultant had put him in suits and behind oak desks. Now he sat behind a shabby desk with a leg that had been repaired and half the time he was in the field, acting as bucker or chaser or even hauling the logs when needed. For months he’d been thinking about selling Dorsey Forestry and moving West again. But leaving a woman behind wasn’t an option. He especially couldn’t do that to Eva.

She tugged on the lock of hair that often fell into her eyes, a sure indication she was nervous. He’d seen her do it before—while poring over a tricky contract or trying to settle a dispute over the phone.

“We’ll see, Danny. Now quit thinking about your stomach and get to work!” With a laugh, she pressed the off button and replaced the phone on the desk.

Turning to Mason, she gave an uneven smile.

“What’s going on? Someone requesting your presence at a party?”

“Yes. And yours too, I hear. Danny told me to remind you not to forget the beer.”

Mason smacked his forehead with his palm. “Damn, I
did
forget. Guess I’ll be making a lunchtime run to the beer distributor.” He looked at her closely. “You’re not going to the party?”

The retirement party had been secretly planned for weeks. Osborn was one of the oldest loggers in the business. He’d also been one of the first Mason’s dad ever hired. It was a true accomplishment to reach retirement age as a logger. The occupation held so many perils, many lost their love for it, their limbs, or even their lives.

“I don’t know…” She crossed to her desk but left the sweet scents of her vanilla perfume behind.

The cool morning light streamed through the east-facing windows, casting her in a glow. She sank to her chair and shuffled through a pile of papers on her blotter. Her desk was ordinarily neat, but last night Mason had cleaned his off and dumped a bunch of it on hers.

He watched her for another minute. What was holding her back from attending the party? She was good friends with Osborn.

“How can I persuade you to go to that party?”