“Are you the
man who’s going to plug my hole?”
Riley
Osborne’s eyes boggled. His mouth dropped open and he stared at the
little pixie in front of him. Surprise kept him frozen on the spot
for a moment. He shook his head and tried to gather his scattered
wits. Freakin’ hell, he couldn’t believe a woman had just said that
to him. I know I have a dirty mind, but I don’t even think she’s
aware how that sounded.
He couldn’t
help himself. His zany sense of humor demanded he answer in kind.
The weighted toolbox connected with his thigh as he propped one hip
against the door jam. “What would you like me to plug it with?”
Despite his best efforts, his smile broke free.
She frowned
and blinked her eyes as if she needed time to assimilate his
question. Big, baby blue eyes, with the thickest, darkest lashes
he’d ever seen. She couldn’t be more than five feet...five-one at
the most. Dark red hair, at the moment dripping wet, hung in
corkscrew twists that fell forward over her shoulders.
He wondered
what color it’d be when it was dry. If he knew women—and he did—he’d
hazard a guess that the red was real, not a bottle job. He could be
wrong, but she had the fair skin that went with red hair and a
sprinkling of little freckles across her nose. Cute.
“Um, what do
you suggest we use?” she said with a frown.
She raised
her hand and tried to push the wet curls back from her face. He
would have to be blind not to notice the way her tee shirt pulled
across her breasts. It didn’t help that the top was soaked. Damp
fabric and the obvious fact that she didn’t have a bra on. Hell of a
combination. Wonder if she knows white material is almost
see-through when it’s wet?
Riley
straightened up and stepped over the threshold. The little pixie
backed up a pace to allow him entrance. His grin was pure devilment.
He had to say it. There was no getting away from it. He just
couldn’t ignore that perfect opening sentence.
“Hmm, let’s
see. There are certain things designed especially for filling holes.
Tailor-made, you might say. Depends on what your specific needs are.
Soft and malleable works fine for some. Then there’s hard and rigid,
but with surprising strength. A little heat behind it and it will
amaze you what can happen.”
Beth-Ann
Harris allowed his words to sink deep. A slow curl of fire ignited
low in her belly. Her face burned with a flush of heat. Surely he
hadn’t said…?
She looked
into his chocolate-brown eyes and saw the twinkle. And the
oh-so-sexy smile on his face. Hot damn, he was coming on to her.
With a frown,
she cast her mind back over what she’d said when she’d flung open
the door. As she picked up on the sexual connotation implicit in
that simple little question, her eyes widened. Lord, she was at it
again. Terminal foot in mouth disease. All she ever did was open her
mouth long enough to change feet.
Her immediate
reaction was to take him to task. Instead, she hesitated. It had
been a bitch of a day. Heck, the last forty-eight hours had been a
nightmare.
First that
jerk, Brad, dumped her for not being adventurous in bed. For crying
out loud, they hadn’t even got as far as going to bed. Not that he’d
really dumped her. He’d told her she needed to go away and rethink
what she wanted out of a relationship with a man. It was at that
point she’d walked out, his comment that he’d be in touch ringing in
her ears.
If he’d been
a bit more particular about personal hygiene, she might have been
willing to discuss the idea of going down on him. As it was, the
whole thing was a total turn-off.
She wasn’t a
prude by any means. As far as she was concerned, as long as both
partners were comfortable, anything was fair game between the
sheets. But, come on, there had to be at least a strong physical
attraction there, and with that bozo, she’d only just been getting
to know him. What she’d seen to date hadn’t impress her in the
least.
Okay, he
hadn’t been important to her. Her emotions weren’t involved and it
had only been their second date. Heaven knows why she’d let him talk
her into going back to his apartment. The squalor in his home had
given her a pretty good idea that she wasn’t far off the mark in her
assessment of the guy. She could tell a lot from the way a man
lived.
Damn, this
had become a habit. A girl could get bent out of shape after being
ditched three times in a row because she wouldn’t play kinky games.
For some
reason she always attracted the wrong type of guy. She didn’t want a
lifelong relationship, but a bit of steamy one-on-one wouldn’t go
amiss. She needed a red-hot fuckfest to raise her sexual self-esteem
because it had sure taken a beating in the last six months.
Put your
money where your mouth is, Beth-Ann. She had the perfect specimen
right in front of her and he wanted to play.
She backed up
into the flat, hands on hips to emphasize her tiny waist. “And which
one would you recommend?” She lowered her voice to a husky drawl,
dragging in a deep breath to push her breasts high.
His gaze slid
down the front of her tee shirt. She knew her breasts weren’t big,
but they were enough to catch his attention. And the soggy fabric
sure helped matters somewhat. She should have been embarrassed, but
she wasn’t. If anything, she was titillated and eager to see how far
he’d go.
“Hot and hard
will do it for me every time,” he drawled. The toolbox dropped from
his hand and hit the tiled floor with a heavy clunk. He leaned back
against the door and hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his
tight blue jeans.
Boy, talk
about confidence. This guy had it in spades. She conducted her own
examination. He was so darn tall, she had a mental picture of having
to stand on a chair to kiss him goodnight. Or perch two steps up on
the nearest staircase with him on the other side of the railing.
Hard to get hot and heavy when a metal bar comes between a girl and
the object of her lust.
She raised
her eyebrows. “So you reckon heat does the best job, do you?”
“Sure does,
ma’am.” He straightened up and moved away from the door, his hands
spread wide. “I’m a builder. Would I lie to you?”
Something
about his tone of voice and even the fact he’d called her ma’am
struck a cord deep in her mind. She tried to pin it down, but it was
too elusive. One thing was for certain, she had a strange sensation
she knew this man. How weird. There’s no way she’d forget someone
like this. So why did she have such a strong sense of recognition?
She shook the
thought away and concentrated on her sexy visitor. Backing up even
further towards the far side of the living room, she lowered her
brows in what she hoped was a come-hither look. “Okay, Mr. Hot and
Hard, prove it. Fill my hole up.”
Riley almost
choked as he fought to contain the crack of laughter bubbling up
inside him. She was outrageous, and one hell of a lot of fun. Today
had been a totally shitty day and he didn’t have the time to deal
with the insurance side of R & J Constructions. That was his
father’s field of operation. Only problem was, John, his dear old
dad, was at home in bed with a cold. Mind you, if dear old dad ran
into little pixies like this one, he wouldn’t mind taking on the
work.
When the
woman reached out, grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him closer, he
grinned in anticipation. She gave a sudden jerk and pranced away
from him, her finger pointed at the ceiling. Without thought, he
looked up. And in an instant, regretted his action.
Cold water
trickled down onto his face from the foot-wide, gaping hole in the
ceiling. Underneath was a soggy bunch of towels to sop up any
further downfall. Off to one side were two full buckets of water.
The little
witch. She’d caught him good and proper. That would teach him to
mess with the customers, even if she was officially his dad’s client
and not his.
Stepping
back, he shook the rain from his hair and wiped a hand over his
face. He started to laugh. Oh, she was good. She’d really had him
going. “Your hole, I presume?”
She simply
raised her eyebrows and grinned at him.
“Let me get
my toolbox and ladder and I’ll see what damage has been done.”
“Want me to
help you carry your...tool?”
Copyright ©2006 Alexis Fleming
