The Mogul and the Muscle - Claire Kingsley Page 0,45

it’s my job to be suspicious.”

“Fair enough.” She paused for a moment, licking her lips, then tucked her hair behind her ear and met my eyes. “Thank you. For what you did tonight.”

I held her gaze and one corner of my mouth turned up in a grin. “Just doing my job.”

“I’m glad you were there to do it.”

“Me too.”

She smiled, then looked down. “I should let you get home. It’s getting late.”

Part of me wanted to stay here all night to stand guard while she slept. But that wasn’t exactly an option.

Unable to help myself, I stood and leaned in, cupping her cheek with my hand. I pressed my lips to her forehead. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I asked softly.

“Yeah,” she whispered.

With my hand still resting against soft skin of her cheek, I kissed her temple. “Call me if you need anything.”

She nodded and I dropped my hand. The scent of her hair lingered, and it took a supreme act of will to make myself turn around and walk away.

I wanted to wrap my arms around her.

Hold her tight until she felt safe again.

I wanted to pick her up and lay her out on that island so I could devour every inch of her body.

If I’d thought she wanted me to, my self-control would have failed. But I wasn’t even sure whether Cameron liked me very much, let alone shared any of my desires. I knew she was grateful that I’d saved her from that hit and run. But gratitude didn’t mean she wanted me the way I wanted her.

And fuck, I wanted her.

Without another word, I left, hoping I was doing the right thing.

16

Cameron

The sun hadn’t risen, but I was wide awake. I sat on a tall stool in my workshop, the parts of a dismantled blender spread out on the spacious worktable. The walls were lined with shelves, drawers, and bins, all my tools and materials neatly organized. I had everything from plastics and heat guns to a 3-D printer and a soldering iron.

Some women dealt with stress by going to the spa or with retail therapy. Others meditated, practiced yoga, or took long, hot baths with a glass of wine. I did those things, too. But my favorite way to de-stress was tinkering.

I’d been a tinkerer from the time I’d had enough hand-eye coordination to take apart my toys. As I got older, I started putting them back together again—only with modifications. I’d happily put motors on model airplanes to make them fly, built solar-powered robots that walked and had lights that flashed, and tried to enhance every household appliance I could get my hands on.

I didn’t want to brag, but the modifications I’d made to my Lady Jam Personal Erotic Massager had become the stuff of legend. My friends had all bought the same model and made me trick out theirs too.

Pushing the safety glasses back up my nose, I inspected my handiwork. This blender had never worked as well as it should. I’d swiped it off the kitchen counter this morning while I’d waited for my coffee to brew, suddenly determined to make it better.

At the moment, it was still in pieces. But I wasn’t finished.

Someone knocked on the partially open door.

“Yeah?” I asked, not looking up.

“What is that?” Inda asked. “Your blender?”

“Uh huh.” I kept my eyes on the tiny screw I was reinserting.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why do you think something would be wrong?”

“Because you’re out here destroying your blender and it’s not even six in the morning. Did you sleep?”

I tested the fit of the base that housed the motor. I was going to have to shave down some of the plastic to make it fit. Or maybe fabricate a new one. “Yes, I slept. I woke up early. And I’m not destroying my blender. It sucks. Or it did. It won’t when I’m done with it.”

“Okay,” she said in a tone that made it clear she didn’t believe me. “Are you going to finish up first, or…?”

“Why? Isn’t it my day off?”

“From work? Yes, it’s Sunday.”

“No, from you.”

She laughed. “Nope. Leg day.”

I eyed her over the top of the glasses. Evil woman. “Fine. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“I already set your workout clothes on your bed.”

“You think of everything, don’t you?”

“Just doing my job,” she said with a smile, then turned on her heel and left.

Of course she was just doing her job. Most of the people in my life were around because they worked for me. They had a