His tone felt almost like an intimate caress. How else could words that innocuous have the same impact as him saying, “Take off your clothes for me.”
She blushed harder and tried to brush her reaction aside. Maybe wine with dinner had been a bad idea and was impairing her judgment.
“Early is fine. Did you have a time in mind?”
“Seven?” He sipped his coffee and sat back in his chair, giving her a bit of space.
The extra air should have been welcome. Oddly, she worried that he was no longer interested in her, and that she’d imagined his voice turning its seductive power on her.
Carlotta risked a glance up at him. No, she hadn’t imagined anything. He might have given her more space, but his gaze drilled her with a blistering heat that made her catch her breath.
She swallowed back excitement. “Seven would be great.”
Chapter 2
They rolled up to Hunter and Kata’s new house early in the afternoon. The cab of his truck smelled like her. Something spicy and musky, but mysterious. And so damn feminine. It wasn’t perfume or lotion or anything manufactured that he’d smelled on a million other women. He’d noticed it before…but cooped up in a small space with her when the weather was too damn cold to roll down the windows just magnified the scent. How the hell was he going to stand up now that they’d arrived without embarrassing himself or scaring her? Caleb rubbed at his eyes. He didn’t think that telling her he’d been sporting the same erection since well before hitting the Louisiana state line would put her at ease.
“It is so charming!”
Carlotta’s smile and glowing eyes didn’t make him any less hard. Dragging in a deep breath, he forced himself to compartmentalize and focus on the house. On the corner in an established neighborhood with mature trees, it had a cottage feel. White with shutters in a pumpkin color. A wide porch held up by four slender columns shielded a host of flowering plants and a hanging bench swing. Big windows along the front, a white door with a leaded glass inset, and decorative silvery house numbers along the front all added to the cozy feel. It wasn’t big, but Caleb could see why Hunter would want to call it home and maybe raise a baby or two.
“I’m sure they’ll be happy here. Let’s go see how much work the interior needs. The exterior looks good.”
“The grass needs cutting.” She pulled out a little notebook from her purse, along with a pen, and started making notes. “The little detached garage out back probably needs a coat of paint.”
Caleb cocked his head to look down the line of the house. She was right. “I’ll take care of that.”
“They are lucky to have you.” She smiled. “Helping, I mean.”
Yeah, because Carlotta could have him any way she wanted if she’d just say the word.
That wasn’t happening anytime soon. Sighing, he stepped out of the truck and jogged around the front. Carlotta had opened her door and was trying to hop to the ground in not-quite-practical heels and another one of those skirts that hugged her ass and drove him insane.
What he really wanted to do was put his arms around her waist and lift her against him. But she shot him another one of those skittish stares, so he merely offered her a hand. She took it, and her soft heat was a jolt through his system. Jesus, as if he could get much harder. The moment her feet steadied on the ground, Caleb forced himself to turn away and headed for the house.
Heading up the little walkway, he fished out the keys Hunter had given him and pushed open the front door. That’s where the charm ended. He passed through a little foyer. Dark and cramped, with a strange little half wall that supported spindles up to the ceiling, it cut the opening off from the rest of the house. Maybe if there’d been a coat closet or something functional, he could see the purpose. But at six foot three, all he felt was cramped.
The parquet floors had seen better decades. Someone had broken into the house at some point and spray painted an interesting collection of obscenities low on the half wall.
“Oh, dear.” Carlotta’s voice shook.
That was one way of putting it. “I vote we rip out this pointless wall. It’s not load bearing.”
“It makes the house feel smaller.”
“Right.” Caleb wandered further inside. “The fireplace needs a good scrub.”
She nodded. “Everything needs new paint.”
True enough. The work of the graffiti artists continued. Their vocabulary belonged in the gutter. Carlotta winced.
“I’ll definitely take care of that, too. I’m guessing…kitchen off to the left?” He put a hand to the small of her back and led her away from the insults in red-spray paint.
But the kitchen wasn’t any better. Several of the cabinets hung crooked, dangling by a single nail. Some of the doors had been torn off, the shelves ripped out. The sink was filthy. The refrigerator had been rolled to the middle of the floor. Caleb was almost afraid to open it. He filed that project in the later category, then opened a mystery door, expecting a pantry. Instead, he peeked down, flipped on the switch just inside.
“What is it?”
“Attic.”