Her eyes widened. He played hardball. A slow smile burned upon her lips. Not once had she seen him so excited while working the farm. “You enjoy this, don’t you?”
“Thrill of the hunt.” He grinned. Still, the phone rang.
“Are you gonna answer it?”
He chuckled. “Let ’im sweat for a sec.”
“OMG, answer already!”
He finally answered. Cool and calculated while her insides were flustered like upset chickens.
“Tyler Dixon speakin’.” His mirth only spread. He turned around, sat his fine rear on the edge of his desk, ankles crossed, Stetson dropped beside him, belt buckle gleaming, dirty denim that smelled of horse leathers and of course, his signature cedar, the likes of which she’d filled her nose with last night as she’d fallen asleep in his arms for the first time.
“Good idea,” he said. “Any further correspondence can come directly to me. Mighty good of you to work with us… Yup, take care.”
He clicked off the phone and discarded it on the desk like he was tossing aside a rock from a field, then grabbed her hand and reeled her close, unfolding his legs and planting them wide, so she stood in between them. For a rare moment, she was taller than him.
“There now. They’ve discovered some loophole that will allow them to elevate this claim and process your payout,” he smirked. “Imagine that.”
“Ah, that loophole was just sitting around in a dusty room?” she joked.
“Something like that.” He tightened his arms around her waist, resting on the rise of her rear. She toyed with the short waves across his forehead and he leaned in, nuzzled his nose into her neck, plucking up her spaghetti strap with his teeth and letting it snap back to her skin. “I love the way you smell. This a loophole here?” he drawled.
She laughed as he placed a kiss where her pulse fluttered, migrating southward toward her collarbone. “No, that’s called a conflict of interest.”
“Mmm, I’m interested,” he flirted easily.
Shivers of delight broke upon her skin. But if she shared with him what she was finding in his back ninety, would he welcome her here for longer? Did she want to be his for longer? Would he back off once his kids returned? Act like there was nothing between them?
His chuckling distracted her from that sinking feeling severing ties with this place induced.
“I didn’t realize you were so cutthroat.” She draped her arms around his neck in return, leaning into him.
“Nope. Just ain’t down with shady companies trying to make a buck off your misfortune. Your contract gives you coverage for acts of God with or without photographic evidence. Pretty cut-and-dry, really. They figured you didn’t know because no one reads the fine print, and were trying to screw you, and, uh…” He kissed her neck again. Again. A touch more sensual each time. She squirmed, her belly heating up, her limbs growing languid in that familiar way when he touched her with affection, with desire, her pulse fluttering faster. “That’s my job.”
Oh my God. The butterflies erupted from fluttering to a whirlwind. And this time, he didn’t add, “until next week.”
“Why did you do that?” she breathed.
“No one takes advantage of what’s mine—”
She stilled right as he cut himself off and cleared his throat. Tingling erupted within her, confusing the butterflies. Mine? To belong? To be wanted? Would he want her if he knew the truth? Something told her…he’d understand.
“You’re my responsibility until you leave,” he croaked. There it was. But there was no mistaking the redness creeping up his neck, or his lips as hungry as hers, quieting as if he’d let a secret slip that he shouldn’t have.
His grip tightened, but his brows pulled together. “I didn’t mean to imply that there’s a commitment here that you don’t want…”
He made to stand, to withdraw, but she leaned into him, and his rear settled back down on the desk. He’d whispered her name last night. Given her that butterfly sticker. She felt herself gravitating to his orbit, if she only knew where she stood with him. This was new. They both had separate lives. But for the first time since her fiancé, she didn’t want this to end.
His hands on her dropped, hung awkwardly, raked through his hair.
She’d been excited to tell him about the slump when she’d gotten here, but his legal flex had distracted her. Should she take a chance? Put out there what she was thinking and feeling?
“What if I told you I’m going to need even more time here?” She hedged, biting her lip. “That after the survey of the slump, I’d like to keep investigating it? I was hoping to show you something I discovered today.”
He tensed. Held still. Eyes boring into her.
She picked at his shirt, watched her fingers so she didn’t have to look at his hard expression and let her mind run wild trying to interpret it. That invisible lint was everywhere on him.