Suddenly Last Summer (O'Neil Brothers 3)
“We just managed to be in each other’s company for ten minutes without killing each other. I figured that was a good start. And now we can give up pretending, I’ve finished the deck.”
Delight mingled with another far more dangerous emotion. Disappointment. If he’d finished the deck then he’d be leaving. He’d be going back to Boston and without a reason to come home, they were unlikely to see each other again before Christmas.
It appalled her how much she minded.
“So we can go ahead with the party.” A few days ago she’d thought it was hopeless. She’d been depressed and dejected at her own failure to complete the task. Now that she knew it was going to be on time, she should have been bouncing with joy. So why wasn’t she? “I am very pleased. Today you are truly my hero.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, because it’s time to talk about payment.” He folded his arms and leaned against the door frame, that lazy blue gaze fixed on her face.
“Payment?”
His skin was glistening with the sweat of hard labor and she took a step backward. It was too reminiscent of that night last summer when they’d driven each other wild. She knew how those shoulders felt. She’d had her hands on them. And her mouth. And he’d had hands and mouth on her, too. She couldn’t stop thinking about it and clearly he couldn’t, either, because his eyes were fixed on her lips as if she were a meal he wanted to eat.
“Yeah, we haven’t talked terms. But I’m ready to do that.”
“What do you want?”
He smiled. “We’ll start with dinner. I’m hungry.” His gaze lowered to her mouth. “And given that you haven’t stopped working all week, you must be hungry, too.”
Merde. “Sean—”
“Eight o’clock suit you or do you want to make it later?”
“No, it doesn’t suit me! There is no time for dinner. I have a party for more than one ’undred people in less than two days.”
“You’re nervous.” His voice was soft and there was a gentle gleam in his eyes. “You always drop your h’s when you are stressed.”
“Yes, I am nervous! This opening is really important to me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “So it’s the Boathouse that is making you nervous?”
“Yes! And as I was saying, I have—” she put special emphasis on the h, huffing the word at him “—nothing for the guests to eat. And I need to look at the deck. I don’t want anyone falling through it.”
He smiled, a slow sexy smile that slid into her bones and cut her off at the knees. “You want to take a closer look at my work? I can assure you it’s the prettiest deck in Vermont and no one will be falling through it. Of course, if they do then I can fix whatever they break.” He was so damn sure of himself and she ground her teeth.
“We don’t eat dinner together. We don’t do that.”
“Well, this time we’re going to. We’ve both had a long week.” He hadn’t bothered shaving that morning and his jaw was hazy with dark shadow, his eyes a lazy blue under thick eyelashes.
She wanted to eat dinner with him so badly it terrified her. There was no way, no way, it was going to happen.
“If you are hungry I will book you a table in the restaurant. The specials tonight are coquilles Saint Jacques and confit de canard. You’ll enjoy it.”
“I’m not dressed for the restaurant.”
“You’re not dressed at all.” Her gaze slid to the sleek, pumped-up muscles of his shoulders. “That is the problem.”
“It’s a problem?” His husky voice told her he didn’t see it as a problem at all, and Élise ground her teeth.
“Not a problem for me, but it will bother the other diners, so you can shower and change and turn up looking like Sean and not like—like—”
“Like?”
“Like you do.” Gorgeous. Dangerous.
He leaned closer to her. “Nine o’clock, Élise. That gives you time to finish whatever it is you need to finish and still be awake. I’ll cook. We’ll have dinner on the deck.”
She forced herself to breathe.