“Aye, like you would recognise normal,” he scoffed. “Most women would be ecstatic if a guy helped renovate their house. You spend your time complaining.”
“Most women would like to be asked first before the guy rips off her wallpaper and declares he’s in charge of the kitchen. I keep telling you. This is my house. Go rip off the wallpaper in your own house.”
“My house doesn’t need it. This one does. This kitchen is a biohazard. While I’m here I’m going to help you sort it. If we left it to you it’d be the last room you looked at. I want to be able to cook in a kitchen that won’t give me salmonella.”
“Well, go home and cook in your own kitchen.”
“Children.” His mother held up her hands, a look of absolute delight on her face. “This is very entertaining, but I came by to invite you both over to lunch on Sunday and to thank Jena for all the lovely flowers she’s been passing on to me.”
“Don’t mention it,” Jena said to his mum while glaring at Matt.
“We’ll be there Sunday,” Matt said at the same time.
Jena frowned at him. “What happened to it not being safe for me to socialise?”
“That didn’t stop you from accepting a date with Bob the butcher, now did it?” He gave her a smug smile. “Don’t worry, Jena, you’ll be safe at my mum’s house, because I’ll be there.” He grinned widely. “Exactly the same way I’ll be right by your side this evening at Bob’s house.”
Jena sputtered. “You can’t come with me on a date.”
Matt leaned towards her, pleased when her cheeks flushed. “Watch me.” He bit off a huge chunk of steak and chewed hard.
Jena glared at him before looking around the room. No doubt for something to lob at his head. It was a relief to see there was nothing close to hand. Matt suspected Jena Morgan had a bloodthirsty side when she let loose. He grinned. He’d quite like to see that.
“I can see you have everything in hand.” His mum stood, hung her handbag over her shoulder and smiled a little too brightly for Matt’s liking. “I’ll see you both for Sunday lunch.”
With a spring in her step, his mother let herself out of the house. Leaving him in a stare off with a very grumpy American.
10
Friday evening arrived too fast for Matt’s liking. Jena was in her bedroom getting ready for her date. Matt shook his head in disgust. Bob the bloody butcher. He was nothing more than a shallow pretty boy who knew how to charm the pants off the ladies. Matt shook his head as he cleaned up the paper strips from the kitchen floor. He’d better stay away from Jena’s pants. She had enough to deal with without fending off Bob the butcher. He stilled. She would fend him off, wouldn’t she? He shuddered. The thought that she might actually want Bob’s hands on her didn’t bear thinking about. He’d just have to remind Bob that if anyone in Invertary could get away with murder, it would be the only cop.
Matt stood back, hands on hips, and surveyed the result of all his hard work. He’d gotten most of the old paper off the walls now. All they needed was a good wash, then he could plaster and sand them ready to paint. He was thinking they’d look good painted a nice pale blue colour when he caught himself. This was Jena’s house. He should probably let her pick the colour of her kitchen.
“Okay.” Jena came into the room. “How do I look?”
Matt turned towards her and felt his heart skip a beat. Maybe two. He rubbed his hand over his chest. Yeah. Definitely irregular. He’d need to see the doc about that. Thirty-two had to be too young to suffer from heart disease. Didn’t it?
“Matt, pay attention. How do I look?” She twirled, her arms held away from her sides.
Matt’s mouth went dry. His eyes narrowed. Hell no. “You can’t wear that.”
Her smile disappeared as she looked down at herself. She had on a bronze-coloured dress, made of some silky material. There were bat-like sleeves. The neckline slid off a shoulder. He felt his anger build—was she even wearing a bra? The skirt section was a tight band across her thighs, stopping mere inches below her backside. Her skin was shimmering, her eyes were painted dark and sexy and her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders and around her breasts. Cupping them like gentle hands. Matt forced his eyes to move on. Unfortunately, it didn’t help. Her perfect legs made him want to groan with need. He swallowed it down as he eyed her shoes. They were basically stilts. This time shimmering bronze stilts with straps that criss-crossed up her calf, tying in a bow at her knee. Her toenails were painted to match the shoes.
One look at that mini dress, and those shoes, and Bob’s focus wouldn’t be on food. No, it would be on untying the shoes, then running his hand up those shimmering legs to get to the hemline of that tight little skirt. Not happening. Not on his watch. Matt’s job was to protect Jena. And he’d damn well do it. Whether she liked it or not. He’d start by protecting her from Bob’s lecherous attention.
He pointed to the door. “Go get changed. Put on jeans and a T-shirt.” He thought about it. “A high-necked T-shirt. A loose-fitting one. And put a bloody bra on too.”
Jena gaped at him. “Are you serious?”
He folded his arms. “You can’t wear that. You’re giving out the wrong signals. You’re inviting Bob to come get you. Go get changed.”
Jena folded her arms too. She held a tiny bronze clutch bag in one hand. Her arms pulled the top of the dress tight across her breasts, and Matt felt the blood rush away from his brain. She was so not wearing that dress. Jena tapped a toe on the old linoleum floo
r, drawing his attention back to her legs, when it had taken a great deal of effort to get his attention off her legs.
“This is a date,” she said. “You dress up for a date. There is nothing wrong with my clothes. And for your information, I am wearing a bra.”
Matt’s eyes shot back to her chest. “I don’t see a bra.”