Dakota Cassidy - Something to Talk About

She’d been his sounding board, his right-hand man, or woman, as she’d often reminded him, and he couldn’t seem to focus on the intense kind of details government security contracts required.

Caine clapped him on the back. “Well, this job needs you. If you can create software for the Defense Department, you damn well can do it for something as rinky-dink as a phone-sex company. It won’t use up a lot of your brainpower, and you won’t be moping around, ruining perfectly good pieces of two-by-fours by measuring them wrong. I’ll give you your own office and everything. C’mon... You can even eavesdrop on the girls’ phone calls,” he joked with a wink.

“I don’t need an office to develop software. I can do it from home.” That he was even considering Caine’s offer shocked him.

“Nope. You don’t need an office, but I’m gonna give you one anyway because you need to get the hell out from under Gage’s and Tag’s feet before they hack off your fingers. And then you won’t be developing anything, will you?”

Jax sat silently.

“Look, bro, if not for yourself, do it for Maizy. I bet she’d really like a playroom that has a roof,” Caine said, ribbing the state of his aunt’s dilapidated house.

“Caine? Honey?” a familiar voice called from the large entryway, echoing off the marble tiles. “Know where Sanjeev is? I need him to mix up one of his hangover specialties.”

Caine held out a hand to the woman who’d been with Emmaline in Lucky’s, a woman who looked at him like his old college buddy had invented high-heel shoes. Pulling her to him, he gave her a long kiss that almost made Jax uncomfortable.

So he chose to take that moment to think. Caine was only trying to do what everyone had been trying to do since Harper died. Get him back out into the world—where crazy assholes roamed free and killed your sister.

He wasn’t sure he was ready for that. He had no motivation in him to do anything that was productive or useful, and everyone knew it.

It was at that undecided moment—while he searched for this motivation everyone seemed so eager to instill in him, when Emmaline Amos walked into the big kitchen, her hand squeezing her temples while she looked down at her feet—that he forgot everything.

Caine let go of Dixie, circling her waist with a loose grip. “Dixie, Em? I want you to meet my old college roommate, Jax Hawthorne. His aunt Jessalyn owned that big Victorian over by the creek. He used to spend his summers here. You remember her, right?”

Em’s steps stuttered then stopped altogether.

And there it was again—their stare. The one that connected them in a way Jax tasted on his tongue, felt in his freakin’ marrow.

A weird shift of his gut, his emotions all tangled up in it, happened again. This time stronger than the last.

Jax caught Caine and Dixie sending each other some secret signal only lovers shared. Dixie was probably trying to warn Caine that he and Emmaline had already been introduced, but like the man he was—the man they both were, Caine totally missed the signal.

When Em didn’t respond, Caine said, “Em, this is Jax. Jax, Em’s our GM at Call Girls.”

Yep. She sure was.

Enough said. He was in before he even understood why.

Oh, and hello there, motivation.

Four

Em virtually ran past Jax’s newly appointed office, hoping to avoid eye contact. She’d done it for a week. If she worked hard, stayed focused, was aware of her surroundings, she could keep right on doing it for as long as she was forced to work alongside Jax Hawthorne.

Picking up the pace, she moved with quick feet, willing herself not to run and appear rude. She nearly twisted her ankle taking the sharp corner while aiming straight for safe haven—aka Marybell’s office.

“Emmaline?”

Em stopped dead, her right heel catching on the carpet, forcing her to grab at the small crushed-velvet chair with the enormous fern on it to keep her balance. She swatted at the leaves and willed her voice to come off easy. “Yes?”

“Can I see you for a minute?”

Em frowned. Will it really only be a minute? Much longer and she’d probably melt into a puddle of lusty goo. In fact, since Jax had taken up residence at Call Girls a week ago, her record for staving off puddles of lusty goo when he was in the vicinity was eighty-eight point three seconds. A whole two minutes could pose a troublesome challenge.

He stuck his dark head out the doorway to locate her in the hall, filling up the space with his muscle-y chest and wide shoulders.

Em had to swallow back a sigh when she allowed herself a quick peek of the fitted, indigo shirt he wore, which hugged his pecs and tapered into his lean waist. The color of it made his eyes look like a dark, raging sea. Her eyes continued to travel, drawn to his thighs, thick and hard and making an uncomfortable heat pool between her legs.

Jax smiled at her, all white-toothed and luscious lips. “Em?”

She held up the screwdriver as though it was her magic wand—a wand that would ward off his penchant for turning her into lusty goo. “Sorry. Sometimes I have a one-track mind. I was off to fix the doorjamb in Marybell’s office. How can I help you?”

His eyes, thickly fringed with dark lashes, crinkled at the corners. “So you’re handy?”

Randy? Yes. Yes, she was. Wait. Handy. Are you handy, Emmaline Amos? She looked down at her traitorous magic screwdriver without meeting his eyes, hiding her gulp. “I’m very handy.”

“Like big-power-tools handy? Or just screw-in-a-lightbulb handy?”

Was that a little admiration she heard in his voice? When she finally let Jax’s gaze take hold of hers, she was actually able to smile with more ease. Safe subject.

If they were talking about power tools, confidence took over where schoolgirl puddles of lusty goo left off. She knew a band saw. “I really am. I can handle almost anything but a lathe. I just can’t seem to master the fine art of sculpting the leg of a table without turning it into a toothpick.”

Jax folded his arms across his chest and smiled his appreciation. “I have no clue what a lathe is, but I bet it’s an impressive piece of machinery. My brothers would love you. They’re both contractors, very handy guys. They’re helping me renovate my aunt Jessalyn’s house. Me? I’m useless when it comes to anything with a bit or a blade.” Jax held up his bandaged hands to show her the proof.

Forget his lack of expertise with power tools. He had brothers? There were more men running around the PO looking like him—all sorts of rough around the edges and dirty-hot?

It must be some sort of conspiracy. Just when she was beginning to feel something other than apathetic about the other gender, the universe decided to simply throw rough, yet beautifully hewn men at her for sport. How thoughtful.

Though she’d bet neither of his brothers matched the silent, almost-caged prowess Jax emanated. He was so many things: sleek, rough, unkempt but totally in control. Yet, he moved with such grace while his muscles bunched and flexed. Contradictions aplenty.

Still, no way it was legal to have another two just like him in Plum Orchard all at once.

Em inched a little closer to him. Just close enough to behave as though she wasn’t on high lusty-goo alert, but far enough away that she couldn’t quite smell his cologne. Which changed the game entirely.

If his presence weren’t already hard enough on her dirty, dirty libido, his cologne would surely trump all varieties of goo. She’d gotten a lingering whiff of him when he’d left Call Girls for the night and she’d had to drop some reports on his desk. Clean and fresh. Like Tide and sunshine.

Jax’s step closer roused her from her thoughts. “Em?”