Donna Hill - Sultry Nights

But the real cause of the heat that flooded her cheeks and set her heart racing was when Trevor looked over his shoulder at the sound of the collision.

For a moment, she couldn’t think beyond the pain in her knee and the vision before her. Trevor Jackson was not the stumpy, balding, cigar-chewing, dirty-under-the-fingernails contractor that she’d expected. He was an Idris Elba look-alike, with the build and piercing dark eyes to cinch the deal. If he opened his mouth and out spouted the King’s English, she was done. His right eyebrow lifted and she only wished her lashes were as naturally thick as his.

Concentrating on standing up without wobbling on her aching knee, she made it to her feet as he turned fully around. Her stomach fluttered.

“Mr… .” Her mind went blank.

“Jackson.”

She forced a smile and wondered if she looked as suddenly unnerved as she felt. “Yes, sorry. Mr. Jackson. I’ve seen so many people this morning.”

Trevor let the comment go. Maybe she got a very early start, seeing that it was barely after nine. Either that or she was no different from the rest of the elite that he’d dealt with in the past who didn’t care enough to know the names of the people that they employ.

Dominique’s knee was pulsing in time to the thudding in her chest. She finally had the presence of mind to extend her hand in his direction. And what did she do that for?

Trevor’s large work-roughened hand enveloped hers. His long fingers wrapped around her palm and gently squeezed.

Heat sluiced through her veins, filled her body, loosened her inner thighs and made her tiny pearl stiffen and twitch.

He was a full head above her, even in her heels, and she was forced to look up at him to make contact with eyes that were framed with thick lashes and orbs that were inky black, almost bottomless. There was a slight squint to his gaze as if he was staring into sunshine.

“Is it okay if I sit down?”

Damn, was she staring? Only the flickering light of good home training kept her from snatching her hand away. “Of course.” She smiled and extended her scorched hand in the direction of the couch and briefly shut her eyes the instant he turned his back and willed herself to get it together—and grabbed the folder with his paperwork.

He would never know how stiff her knee was becoming the way she managed to catwalk across the short space to join him in the cozy seating area. She opted for the club chair and slowly eased down into the plush comfort of the seat. Her knee was on fire.

Trevor leaned back against the plump cushions and draped his arm across the back of the couch. The rolled up sleeves of his tan chambray shirt revealed the tight tendons of his arms and he looked quite comfortable, as if sitting in her office relaxed and nonplussed was something he did regularly.

Dominique ran her tongue across her dry bottom lip and then opened the folder that was on her lap. “So…” She glanced across at him and forgot what she was going to say.

“Yes?” The corner of his mouth flicked.

Dominique adjusted herself in her chair and switched her focus to the papers in front of her. “Well, as you know, my organization has plans to expand. We recently purchased the two floors above us and I need them converted into work space, well classrooms, a library and a resource center.”

“Right.”

He wasn’t going to make this easy. “I’ve received dozens of proposals but yours met all of our criteria.”

He nodded.

Dominique swallowed. “If you’re still interested, we can discuss terms and when the work can get started.”

“I’d like to see the space.”

“Of course.” She started to stand and winced at the pain in her knee. She gripped the side of the chair.

Trevor was halfway to her side. “You okay?” He almost grabbed her but caught himself.

She bobbed her head. “Fine.” She pushed herself to a standing position. “I’ll show you the space.” She led the way out of her office, toward the back of the building and around to the side entrance that led to the upper floors.

Dominique gripped the wobbly wooden banister and gritted her teeth as she mounted the stairs. She was going to need some ice and not just for her aching knee.

* * *

Trevor dutifully followed Dominique up the stairs, trying to keep his mind on the steps and not the gentle sway of Dominique’s hips or the curve of her legs or the soft scent that she trailed in her wake. Fortunately, they wouldn’t have too much contact. Once work began he couldn’t imagine a woman like Dominique Lawson being in the mix of dust, buzz saws and sweaty men.

Chapter 3

Dominique opened the door onto the first floor that had once upon a time been an apartment.

“Here we are.”

Trevor took in the space. The wood floors were warped and coming up in spots and some of the boards were missing. It was clear that there had been major water damage from the stains on the ceiling and the buckling walls. The kitchen would have to be ripped out completely along with the bathroom. The two back rooms that must have served as bedrooms were in no better shape. He took pictures as they walked through the space. Then they went up to the top floor that was in a similar state of disrepair before returning to Dominique’s office.

Dominique stood in the center of her office and folded her arms in front of her. “So…what do you think?”

“Anything is doable. It will take some work but it can be done.” He walked past her and caught another whiff of the scent she was wearing before sitting in the chair she’d been in earlier. He could almost feel her warmth.

Dominique perched on the edge of the couch with her delicate ankles crossed.

“I’ll take a look at the pictures, talk it over with my partner and put some sketches together based on what you say you need. I can get back to you in about a week.”

“A week…is great. How long do you think it will take to complete?”

“Once work is started, barring any surprises, about two to three months.”

Her eyes widened. “Really? I had no idea it could be done so quickly.”

He pushed up from his seat. Her gaze followed his rise.

“As I said, barring any obstacles.” He gave her a half smile. He tucked his iPad under his arm and extended his free hand.

Dominique placed her hand in his. “I’ll get the contracts drawn up as soon as I see the design,” she said, sounding a little breathless even to her own ears.

“Fair enough.”

“Can I offer you some coffee before you go?”

“Thanks. But no. I have another appointment.”

She offered a tight smile. “I’ll walk you out.”

“I’m good. I’m sure you have things to do.”

Inwardly she flinched. Was she being blown off?

She crossed the room to the door and opened it. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Jackson.”

Trevor met her at the threshold. “I look forward to doing business with you, Ms. Lawson.” He walked out, stopped then turned. “You really should get some ice on that knee.”

The air got stuck in her throat. She didn’t know if she was embarrassed or ticked off by his offhanded comment. It wasn’t so much what he said, it was the delivery, as if he had one up on her.

She spun away from the door and her knee screamed. She slammed her office door shut, limped over to the couch and plopped down. For the first time she took a peek at her knee. It was already obviously swollen. Tenderly she placed her hand, the hand that was still warm from holding his, over the knee that throbbed beneath her touch.

Trevor’s half grin and probing eyes seemed to tease her as she replayed their meeting behind her closed lids. There was nothing special about Trevor Jackson. She’d been with much more handsome men, men with money, class and prestige, men who would do just about anything to be with her. So, what was it about Trevor that had gotten so quickly under her skin?