It took a lot of effort but I only glanced at the half-smile before my eyes went back to his. This didn’t do a thing to decelerate my rapidly accelerating heartbeat.
“Then no I don’t have tools,” I told him not adding that I wasn’t entirely certain what a wrench was.
He nodded and turned to the door. “I’ll go get mine.”
Then he was gone and I didn’t know what to do so I hurried after him.
I should have stayed where I was. I’d seen him move, of course, I just hadn’t seen him moving around in my apartment. He had an athlete’s grace which I had noticed before. But it was more. He had a natural confidence with the way he held his body and the way he moved. It was immensely attractive all the time but seeing it in my apartment was not going to be conducive to peace of mind; something it was difficult for me to find on a good day much less a day when my faucet didn’t turn off and I was forced to endure an evening that included Detective Mitch Lawson having to be in my apartment.
He stopped at the door and turned to me. “I’ll be right back.”
I nodded and he disappeared out the door.
I stood in my living area in my heels, skirt and blouse from work. Then I wondered if I had time to change before he got back. Then I wondered if he’d notice it if I’d spritzed on perfume when he got back. Then I wondered if I should do a shot or two of vodka before he got back. Then he knocked on my door which meant he was back.
I ran to the door, looked through the peephole (you couldn’t be too careful) and saw him looking to the side. I sucked in a calming breath then opened the door.
“Hey,” I said, “welcome back.”
I was such a dork!
He grinned. I stepped aside and he came through carrying a toolbox. Learning from my mistakes, I immediately led him through the living area, down the hall, through my bedroom and to the bathroom. He put the toolbox on the basin counter and opened it. He pulled out what I figured was a wrench and went right to work.
I watched his hands which I’d never really noticed before. They were a man’s hands. There were veins that stood out that were appealing. His fingers were long and strong-looking. He had great hands.
“So your name is Mara.” His deep voice came at me. My body jolted and I looked to his head which was bent so he could watch what he was doing.
“Yeah,” I replied and my voice sounded kind of high so I cleared my throat and stated, “And you’re Mitch.”
“Yeah,” he said to the faucet.
“Hi Mitch,” I said to his dark brown-haired head thinking his hair looked soft and thick and was long enough to run your fingers through.
That head twisted so I was looking into dark brown eyes whose depths were so deep you could lose yourself in them for eternity.
Those eyes were also smiling.
“Hi Mara,” he said softly and my ni**les started tingling.
Oh God.
I scanned my memory banks to pull up what underwear I’d put on that morning. I thanked my lucky stars that my bra had light padding all the while thinking maybe I should leave him to it.
Before I could make good an escape, his head bent back to the tap and he asked, “How long have you lived here?”
“Six years,” I answered.
Shoo! Good. A simple answer that didn’t make me sound like an idiot. Thank God.
“What do you do?” he went on.
“I work at Pierson’s,” I told him.
His neck twisted and his eyes came back to me. “Pierson’s Mattress and Bed?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He looked back at the faucet. “What do you do there? An accountant or something?”