The Naked Fisherman (Fisherman 1)

Wrong.

You didn’t lock the door when you secretly hoped your landlord would sneak down with a condom so you didn’t have to stay stuck at an eighty-percent virgin status.

“Hey,” Fisher said coming to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey,” I said. “What’s up?” I pretended that his uninvited trip downstairs was no big deal.

Was he coming downstairs to take the rest of my virginity? I thought a million things along that line.

“I’m Fisher.” He ignored me and made his way to the pool table with his hand held out for Brendon.

“Brendon.” My non-date friend shook Fisher’s hand. “You have an amazing house.”

“Thanks.” Fisher shot me a quick glance.

I bit my lips together for a second before realizing we were suspended in silence. “Fisher built this house. He’s really amazing.”

“It’s great, man. Really incredible.” Brendon rested the end of his pool stick on the floor and leaned into it casually.

“Thanks,” Fisher said once again while shooting me another glance, this time with his head slightly canted and an unusual look in his eyes. “I think that’s the first time you’ve complimented me on my skills.”

My eyebrows shot up my forehead. “Oh? I don’t know about that. Did you …” I dropped my pool stick on the ground with my fidgety hands, and it made an embarrassing clank. “Uh …” I quickly retrieved it. “Did you …” I totally forgot what I was going to say or ask.

“Did I …?”

“Uh … need something?”

The smile that swelled on Fisher’s face was almost too much to handle without wearing more absorbent panties. “Yeah, I needed something, but it can wait until you don’t have company.”

Brendon’s cool expression morphed into something a little more uncomfortable like he sensed a third-wheel feeling.

“Was it about work?” I made an effort to normalize the situation.

“No,” Fisher said slowly, as slowly as he shook his head, as slowly as he made me weak in the knees.

“Did you hear from my mom?”

“No …” He dragged out another long, torturous no.

“Oh … I know. Duh. I was going to show you where water’s getting into the back room.”

Fisher lifted a single brow. I ignored him, handing Brendon my pool stick. “Be right back.” I marched to the back room with Fisher right behind me. As soon as he shut the door, I turned.

“Who’s your friend? Your introduction skills are not up to par. I know his name is Brendon and he likes my house. Care to elaborate now?”

“No. Why did you come downstairs?” I took one step then another toward him, my hands itching to touch him, my eyes disappointed that he was wearing a T-shirt. “Did you bring a condom?”

A half grin formed on his sexy, scruffy face. “No. Give your innocence to Brendon. I’m not in the business of pissing off my friends. And if I were you, I’d look for a new church. The sermon has already worn off. You’re looking for sin just hours after crossing the threshold of the church’s doors.”

“Who’s your friend?” I fisted his shirt, telling my unwise heart to ignore his comment about giving myself to Brendon or his rambling about finding a new church.

“Rory.” He kept his hands to himself and eyed me with caution.

“Rory is your tenant.”

“And my friend.”

“So you thought she’d be good with you only inserting the tip?” I could barely say those words without burning up.

“You’re a temptress. A typical church girl playing the innocent role. You should be truly ashamed.”

“Fisher?”

He waited a second to respond, but when his gaze fell to my lips, I knew I had him. “What?”

“Are you going to kiss me?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“Don’t think.”

Wetting his lips as his grin hit full capacity, he said, “I never do when I’m with you.” Then he slid his hand to the back of my neck and kissed me. The knuckles of his other hand brushed my cheek. His touch so gentle—too gentle. It felt different. And maybe it was just my foolish heart hoping for more, but it didn’t feel like a purely physical moment.

“Send your friend home,” he murmured over my lips. “I want you all to myself.”

“I can’t. I have to drive him.” I pulled back, releasing his shirt as he released my neck.

“Did you pick him up at church?”

“His car was pinned in, and we wanted to go to lunch before the crowd flooded the parking lot.”

“A date?”

I started to respond but stopped just as quickly. “Why? Do you have a problem with me dating him?”

Say yes, Fisher. Just please say yes.

He twisted his lips, like his silence twisted my heart. “No.”

Fisher … why?

“Well, it wasn’t a date.” I shoved his chest, forcing him to move out of my way. “But thanks for reminding me how little this means to you.”

“Reese …”

I opened the door, tipped my chin up, and plastered a smile on my face. “Sorry. Problem solved. Now … where were we? Was it my turn?”