The declaration shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, but for some reason, I’m shook. There’s almost a form of terror in his voice. The same distance I’ve seen from so many highbrow clients in the past. The ones who would rather pay their way into a charity rather than mingle with the riff-raff. Of course, those contributions look great, exchanging large sums of cash for the prestige of giving, along with a generous tax write-off to ease the sting. So long astheydon’t have to look at any of us poor folk.
“What?” He leans toward me, propping his arms against the table next to me. I feel the heat from his body graze mine, and I suppress the shiver of pleasure coursing through me. “You don’t approve?”
I turn toward him, surprised by how close his face is to mine. I fight the urge to move forward, to drop my gaze to his lips, just to sneak a peek. Despite the anger welling in my chest at his words, I can’t deny he is incredibly attractive. Almost magnetic. And he knows it.
A dangerous combination.
I tilt my shoulder upward and flash my most condescending smile. “Do you need my approval?”
“I’d settle for what made that little crease in your forehead just now.”
His green eyes search my face as if committing to memory every line and pivot of my features for future use. Warmth fans its way up my throat, lingering, caressing. Why do I want his eyes on me, so intimate despite knowing him for a matter of seconds? Why does every second I spend in his company make me imagine his hands over me, undressing me?
Another moment passes, and I realize I haven’t said a word. I’m lost in the spell of his gaze, the hypnotic fragrance of his cologne, and the overwhelming flood of feelings setting my skin alight. My stare slides downward, curiosity getting the better of me. His lips are perfect, full and soft.
He probably kisses like the devil.
I raise my eyes back upward, surprised to find his attention fixed to my own lips and the playful teasing in his features gone. The cool, jade hue of his green eyes now resembles a dense forest of evergreens. Dark, untamed and ready to be explored.
I force myself to remember how we got here. We’re in the middle of Home Depot, for goodness’ sake. It wouldn’t look right. Me jumping him in the middle of the aisle, my orange apron flagging down every onlooker for miles like those orange vests they make criminals wear when they pick up trash by the side of the road.
It wouldn’t be right to start something I can’t finish.
Not when we are clearly worlds apart.
Chapter Two
Zach
“Is it genuine?” she asks.
Genuine? There was an endless number of possibilities behind that question.
Am I genuine? I certainly try, especially when I want nothing more than this woman’s approving gaze to be mine again. Is what I’m feeling genuine?
God, I hope so.
Every nerve stands at attention, tense, and awaiting the relief only a woman’s touch offers. This woman’s. Without reason, I am spellbound. It takes every ounce of control I have not to lift her onto this flimsy table. But there’s that little crease in her forehead again, the kind that any idiot can identify as a warning before an argument.
“Is what genuine?” I ask, still focused on her expression, looking for any insight into her thoughts.
She had looked so impressed at first, regarding me with the same interest the women of my social circle usually do when I pay for their extravagant expenses. Well, not exactly the same. Her eyes didn’t light up with dollar signs or diamonds. She regarded me with compassion, with admiration. Now, she only looks disappointed.
“The gesture,” she says. “Do you do it because you want to or because it’s just something to do?”
Now, this is a first. What exactly is she accusing me of doing? Does she think most people spend this amount of money on a whim? “I don’t think I follow.”
“Nevermind.” She shakes her head. “Forget I said anything.”
She starts to pull away. An impulse strikes me, the irrational fear of her walking away from me. I don’t want her to place any distance between us.
I want her here. Close. Her disappointed scowl makes me feel unusually enlivened for the first time in years. As if she expects something of me. Something more than I’ve allowed myself to be in years.
I reach for her. My hand catches her arm, and I pull her back toward me. Immediately, I realize my mistake. The same current of electricity runs down my arm, alerting those parts of my brain and body that I want this woman beyond reason. I want her vibrant red hair laced between my fingers, her plush lips against my skin. I want her legs wrapped around my waist, and every breath she takes a pant of pure ecstasy.
I let her go. These thoughts are too much for the aisle of a home improvement store. I’m already half-hard from just talking to her. Another second longer of me touching her, and I’ll have her pushed up against these shelves.
I close my eyes, blocking out any images of her in my bed. I’ve clearly hit a nerve, and I need to know why.