To give me some insight into what he lived through that made it so hard for him to let me in. Every time we got close to the topic, he shut down the conversation with non-explanations and moved on. I didn’t want to push, but I craved the opportunity to know him better.
Especially if I was going to tolerate light stalking as one of his quirks.
Joe dropped his gaze to his boots. He took a long breath, then let it out, finally looking up with a smolder that put Ramsey’s to shame. The change was impressive. Every hint of sadness was gone, leaving nothing but lust in its wake.
“I’ll get better at the trust stuff.” His hand slid up my arm, curved along my shoulder, then cupped the back of my neck. He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine. “I promise.”
“I just want you to know I—” I gasped as his lips grazed my ear. “I’m really good at listening. If you ever want to talk.” My sentence dissolved into mumbles as I proved it really was possible to melt from desire.
“You’re also really good at other things.” Joe ground his hips forward, his erection pressing into my belly. “And in case I’m not being clear, I’m talking about sex,” he murmured. “And being sexy. You’re very good at all things related to sex.”
He was using his sexuality to distract me. The rational part of me was sure of it.
But, his plan worked beautifully because the rest of me was too engrossed in what he was doing to care.
We made it home and into the guesthouse in record time, dashing through the backyard like Navy SEALS on a mission. As we stepped inside, Joe slid down the zipper on my skirt. The fabric hit the floor and he helped me out of my shirt, his eyes lighting up with a wide grin.
“That settles it. I’m officially sure you didn’t think you were on a date tonight,” he said as he took in my sensible bra and underwear. “Not a strip of lace in sight.”
“It took that to make you sure?” I quirked an eyebrow and bent to slip off the stilettos.
Joe stopped me with a firm hand on my arm. “Leave the shoes, Penny.” His gaze raked over my body. “Definitely leave the shoes.”
With a wicked grin, I stepped forward and pressed my hands to his chest. “Whatever you want, Wiki,” I said, then grabbed his waistband and pulled him toward the bed.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Joe
Maxine tossed an oversized scoop of flour into a bowl. A puff of white dust filtered onto the counter as she crammed the measuring cup back into the bag for more. I didn’t know much about baking, but somehow, I knew more than her.
“I think the measurements are actually important…”
“Did I miscount?” She frowned at me, then peered at the bowl. Sunlight grazed the herbs on the window and danced through the flour motes hanging in the air. “The recipe calls for three cups of flour and I’m pretty sure that was only two.”
“I wasn’t counting. But, I think I’ve seen people weigh their ingredients. Or at least level off their measurements,” I added as she hefted a rounded cup out of the bag.
Maxine gave me a look that said I was full of shit. “You’re just trying to distract me from talking about work because you don’t like what I’ve been saying.”
I wasn’t trying to distract her from our work conversation. I genuinely worried about whoever had to eat what she was concocting—it certainly wouldn’t be me—but let the topic drop. “You got me there. I won’t know what to do with myself if you genuinely want me to hold off renovations for a week.”
Which was true. I got along with idle hands about as well as I did with pressure.
“The stock market’s been crazy the last couple days. I think I’ll be fine, but until everything settles, I don’t want to spend money. I’ve built my fortune, such as it is, by paying attention and staying cautious.” She aimed a flour covered finger my way. “And no more gifts. The bookcases are lovely, and the backyard is everything George wanted it to be. But I’d rather you buy yourself a better vehicle than spend another cent on me—especially because I’m not paying you in the first place. Something I’m feeling worse and worse about by the day. Your work is too good not to charge for it.”
“I don’t need your money. Just your recommendations