Your Captivating Love (The Bennett Family 2)

***

When we step into the store, the monstrosity of the task hits me. If I were alone, I might crumble underneath it, but with Logan at my side, it seems manageable.

“First things first,” he says. “I suggest we cover the windows with paper.”

“Why?”

“It’ll maintain an air of mystery. Wouldn’t you rather have the people who pass by wonder what’s going on inside rather than see all the gritty steps of renovation?”

“Building anticipation, I understand.”

“Exactly. You’re a fast learner. Let them wonder.”

As we cover the windows, I’m thinking there is some merit to this anticipation theory, because even I wonder what we’ll be doing inside.

Once done, I show him my list. “Let’s start with the first two points.”

Logan nods. “That’s a great place to start.”

As we start working, it becomes clear he’s a pro at this. I sigh. Seeing him doing physical tasks has me squirming and imagining... things.

“Do you want me to nail this for you?” Logan’s baritone voice booms between heavy breaths.

Unfortunately, my brain picks out only the words “nail” and “you,” and my imagination goes completely off the rails. Yes, Logan, you can absolutely nail me. Only when he asks, “Nadine?” do I realize he’s waiting for my answer.

“Yes, please,” I say breathlessly. “You are excellent at this stuff. How come?”

“There was a lot of physical work to do at my parents’ ranch when we were kids. There was almost always something to renovate, and Sebastian and I helped Dad. After Sebastian left for the city, I did most of the work. Even now, my dad likes to do stuff himself. I go out and help because the old man is stubborn and doesn’t understand that he’s not supposed to fix the roof at sixty, so I go and make sure he’s okay. That’s why I have a toolbox there.”

Every other man in his position would send someone over to help his dad. Not Logan. I want to hug him. But if I do, I’ll kiss him too, and the whole thing will escalate quickly. There’s enough sexual tension as it is. Who knew there could be anything sexy about sweat and dust?

As I hear Logan breathe hard, and even occasionally grunt, I can’t help but sneak glances at him then admonish myself. I have to pay attention, or accidents might happen. More than once, I find my concentration sliding as I ogle him instead of doing my task.

My prediction comes true not five seconds later, when I accidentally spill water on Logan’s shirt, soaking it. Now, here’s the thing. I’m not a clumsy person, not

at all. But being around Logan seems to change that. He’s a danger to my mind, and my senses.

“If you wanted to see me shirtless, all you had to do was ask,” Logan says with a lazy smile. “It wasn’t necessary to get me all wet.”

I lick my lips as I watch him remove his shirt, laying it on a radiator. Holy smokes. Now this... This is beyond distracting. The man is a work of art. My vision roams over his chest and abs, over the V-shaped dent pointing downward. With a wink, Logan goes back to working as if he didn’t just make my ovaries explode. He could wear his jacket, but why would he? Teasing me is more fun. Also, if I’m honest, he’d be too hot if he wore it. Taking deep breaths, I follow suit, concentrating on my tasks. Over the next few hours, I do manage to do that, save for the glances I sneak every now and again. I think I’m doing an excellent job of not being obvious until he says, “Like what you see?”

“You’re great eye candy,” I offer. He holds up his right hand as if saying, Not my fault. Except it is, it’s entirely his fault for having a body made for sin.

“You’d better use both hands to fix that board,” I warn him.

He wiggles his eyebrows. “I can do great things with just one hand.”

I gulp, remembering the way he touched me last night. “I completely agree.”

For the next hour, I keep my eyes focused on the task at hand, though my mind travels to dirty land again.

“You’re dirty,” Logan says unexpectedly. I blush, wondering if he can truly read my mind, before I realize we’re both covered in a thick layer of dust.

“So are you.” I drink in the sight of his muscular frame again. Then I notice he’s watching me.

“You have an unfair advantage,” he says, pinning me with his dark eyes.

“What do you mean?”