Rachel gave him a tolerant look. “Try four hundred and sixty-seven machines.”
Jamie whistled. “No kidding?”
“No kidding.” Rachel shrugged. “From a purely cost perspective, it wasn’t a hugely expensive job, but it was definitely one of the stranger things I’ve been asked to do.”
“Have you ever had a request you couldn’t deliver on?” Interpreting her warning look, he added hastily, “I mean, aside from those that are just plain illegal or immoral.”
Rachel thought for a moment. “There was a client who was traveling to China for business, and he wanted a private tour of an archeological site that has never been open to the public. I did everything I could, but there was no getting around the Chinese government.”
“My heart bleeds for the poor guy,” Jamie said, grinning.
“We arranged for him and his wife to have a catered, moonlight dinner on top of the Great Wall, instead.”
Jamie looked suitably impressed. “And here I thought you just did errands and odd jobs.”
“Nope.” Rachel found herself smiling back at him. “I do it all, from travel plans, and tickets to sold-out shows, to event planning, personal shopping, and holiday decorating.”
They were silent for a long moment, until Rachel realized she was staring at him like a love-struck teen. Embarrassed, she dragged her attention back to her tablet, and strove for a professional, businesslike tone.
“So, um, why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll begin putting together some recommendations. Let’s start by reviewing your daily schedule, and then we can decide what you might need.”
“Sure. Give me a minute, and I’ll be right back.”
She watched covertly as Jamie pushed himself to his feet and positioned his crutches. He swung away from her, and she watched the play of muscles in his back as he made his way across the kitchen. Only then did she see he had a second scar on his lower back that matched the one on his abdomen. She didn’t want to think about what that meant.
She tried—and failed—not to notice how fine his ass looked beneath the soft fabric of his shorts. When he finally disappeared from view, she let her head fall into her hands, and groaned.
How was she going to get through the next two weeks? How was she ever going to maintain a professional distance from the guy, when everything he did made her pulse quicken? From the teasing glint in his blue eyes, to his contagious grin and amazing body, Jamie Colter was freaking gorgeous, and she had a suspicion he was also pretty sharp. She vaguely recalled when her brother, Dylan, had left for college, Jamie had headed to the nearest Marine Corps recruitment center. Rachel’s mother had been dumbfounded, and had mentioned to Rachel on more than one occasion that Jamie could have gotten an academic scholarship to any college he wanted. But he’d been intent on serving his country, instead. Call her sappy, but Rachel found that pretty appealing. Especially when compared to what her husband, Deke, had chosen to do, which was absolutely nothing aside from spending his inheritance as fast as he could.
Ex-husband, she reminded herself.
Pushing away from the counter, she walked over to the French doors and looked unseeingly at the swimming pool. How was it that just days after her divorce, she found herself looking at another man? Granted, she hadn’t lived with Deke for the last two years, and she hadn’t had any romantic relationships during that time. Her job had left her with little time or energy for that, and she acknowledged that marriage to Deke had done a number on her self-esteem.
But now, with this new assignment…
She had promised both her mother and Mrs. Colter she would be exclusively available for Jamie for the next two weeks. She didn’t think she had imagined the interest in Jamie’s eyes when he looked at her, but did she have the courage to explore just how far his interest might go?
“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting.”
Rachel turned around to see Jamie making his way back into the kitchen. He’d pulled on a well-worn, faded T-shirt with the Superman logo on the front, and a more substantial pair of cargo shorts. While she missed seeing his bare chest, she silently acknowledged the soft fabric of the shirt did nothing to detract from the hard planes of his chest.
“No worries,” she replied, keeping her tone light. Coming to stand beside him, she opened her tablet with a swipe of her finger across the screen, and pulled up the standard questionnaire she used for all her clients. “Let’s start with a few basic questions. What time do you typically get up in the morning?”
“Depends on what time I go to bed the night before,” he said, slanting her a lazy grin. “And what I’m doing after I go to bed. I don’t always sleep.”