She felt an inner sigh that she was grateful he couldn’t hear or sense. Jake Hunter really was gorgeous. It wasn’t fair that she could be so attracted to a man who should remain untouchable. Boss’s son. Recluse. Geographically undesirable.
And yet...as she watched him, she felt a swirl of something hot begin to unfold deep inside her. His smile kicked her heart into an odd little lurch and the pit of her stomach felt as if there were a million or so butterflies lodged there. Not to mention the tingles of expectation that were settling in a little lower.
It had been a long time since she’d felt an instant attraction for a man, and she’d never felt one this strong.
And why did she keep hearing Claudia’s voice whispering, Go for it! Flirt! Live! She couldn’t do that, could she?
No. Absolutely not. Just thinking about doing what she was thinking about after knowing the man for only a few pitiful hours probably qualified her for Skank of the Century.
“Oh, God...”
“Are you okay?” He was looking at her.
“Yes, why? Did I say that out loud?” she asked.
“Yeah. So what’s wrong? You feeling all right?”
“Fine, fine.” Astonishing how much easier she was finding it to lie. Maybe she should be worried about that. “I was, um, thinking about the paperwork and making a mental note not to forget to get you to sign it.”
Oh, that didn’t sound pathetic at all.
“Okay, let’s go get that done right now then,” he said and carried his dirty dishes to the sink. He rinsed them out, then took hers and rinsed those as well.
“I like a man who cleans up after himself.”
“Yeah, well, we didn’t have a lot of maids in the Marines,” he said wryly.
He turned off the kitchen light and darkness swallowed the room as they left it behind. Cass hadn’t even been aware of how much time had passed, but apparently, it got dark early up in the mountains. She shivered a little as they walked down the hall and the world beyond the window glass looked black as pitch. There were no outside lights on, so it was impossible to see anything but their reflections in the glass as they walked.
Looking away from the dark, she shifted her gaze to the man striding down the hall in front of her. His boot heels clacked hard against the wood floor, and her own sneakers whispered accompaniment. Her gaze swept him up and down, from his hair, curling over the collar of his white long-sleeved shirt, down to the tight way his jeans clung to his behind. The man had a great butt.
Oh boy. Another rush of heat swamped her and Cass was forced to shake her head in an effort to dislodge the thoughts that came rushing to the surface of her mind. Desperate for conversation, she asked, “How long were you in the Marines?”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Four years.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes,” he admitted, and looked surprised at his own statement. “Things were clear in the military in a way they can’t always be in the civilian world.”
“I guess I can see that,” she said, pleased to have something to focus on besides how good the man looked in a pair of jeans. “But I don’t think I’d be very good at following orders.”
He turned into the study, sparing her another look over his shoulder. “Odd, because my mother’s always been great at issuing orders.”
“True,” she admitted, walking behind him to the desk on the far wall. The lights were on in the study, so the outside world remained just a mirror image of the inside, with darkness outlining the two people framed in the glass. “But she also listens to suggestions, and I’m guessing superior officers in the military aren’t real big on that.”
He laughed and nodded. “You’d be right.”
But she could see him as a marine. Tall, handsome, probably gorgeous in his uniform. And there was the attitude, too. Sure of himself, confident in a way that most men simply weren’t. Jake was the kind of man women daydreamed over, and if she wasn’t careful she was going to fall into that trap easily.
Sliding into his desk chair, he skimmed the papers again and though it looked fast, Cass knew it was also thorough. Plus, his lawyer had already gone over them, so when he scrawled his name across the signature line in a wide, generous hand, it was almost anticlimactic.
“Done,” he said and sounded satisfied.
“I hope you don’t regret it someday,” she said when he handed the papers over to her. It really wasn’t any of her business, but he was signing over his heritage. Any interest he might have had in Hunter Media was now gone and she hoped he’d considered this from every angle.