Emily McKay - Perfectly Saucy

Except for a few short weeks in his senior year when their relationship had evolved into something more. Something he still couldn’t define or explain. Something that still sometimes kept him up at night.

But based on her cool reception, he wasn’t even sure she remembered those weeks. Either way, he’d be damned if he tracked dirt across the floor of the one person in this town who’d never treated him like filth. He reached down and tugged loose his laces, then toed off his boots. Grime ringed his white socks where his boots met his ankles, but there was nothing he could do about that.

He followed her into the kitchen, trying not to notice the seductive rhythm of her hips as she moved. Her long legs accentuated the length of her stride. No pretension or seduction there. Which made the pull even stronger.

“Well, this is it.” She gestured broadly to the kitchen like a game-show hostess revealing the prize behind door number two.

Taking in the room, he frowned. White-painted cabinets, white appliances and dark green laminate counter-tops in a simple galley-style kitchen. Dated, but functional.

Scratching his chin, he asked, “What exactly were you looking to have done?”

She crept closer. Standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder, she studied the kitchen, head tilted slightly toward him. “I don’t know.” She shifted, her bare shoulder brushing his sleeve as she faced him. “I was hoping you’d have some ideas.”

“On the phone you said you wanted to meet as soon as possible. You implied it was an emergency.”

Her gaze shifted nervously away from his. She appraised the kitchen, her forehead furrowing in a frown, before saying, “Haven’t you ever made a decision and wanted to act on it as soon as possible? Just wanted to get it over with?”

Those words, coming from any other rich white woman, would have irritated him. But somehow, coming from her, they didn’t sound selfish or childish, but…frustrated. And very human.

They hinted at the girl he’d known all those years ago. Was the sensitive and kind girl still buried inside this gorgeous creature? The way his hope leaped at the idea made him chuckle.

Dang, but he was susceptible to her.

Her gaze snapped back to his. “You think that’s funny?”

“No, I just…” His hasty reassurance caught in his throat. Her eyes—startlingly blue at this close range—were wide and vulnerable. “It was just unexpected.”

She frowned. “In what way?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Back in school you were always the perfect rich girl. The perfect student. I guess I never pictured you as the impatient type.”

A hint of a smile tugged at her lips. “I’m surprised you bothered to picture me at all.”

Oh, man, she had no idea. If she knew how many times and how many ways he’d pictured her back then, she wouldn’t want him putting his hands anywhere near her kitchen. He could guaran-damn-tee it.

Keeping his mouth firmly shut on the subject, he said, “I’ll tell you what—” He pulled his tape measure off his belt and his notepad out his back pocket. “I’ll take some measurements, make some notes. We’ll see what we can come up with.”

Just holding the tape measure made him feel more at ease. Jessica may have money, but he had skills. He’d come a long way from the boy he’d been back in high school.

Moving from one end of the kitchen to the next, he measured the length and width, noting the depth and locations of each of the cabinets. He put his pad down on the countertop and began making a quick sketch of the kitchen as it was. She stood beside him, closer than was necessary, throwing off his concentration. And damn, she smelled so good he could barely think.

He shifted away from her, propping his hip against the countertop. “Are you willing to give up storage space? Maybe a wall?”

“What do you think?”

What did he think? He thought she was standing awfully close for someone who just wanted her kitchen remodeled.

Think about the money, he ordered himself. If she wanted to drop forty or fifty grand on a whim, he’d be happy to help her do it.

Think about that. Not about how she smells—fresh and clean, yet spicy. Like Ivory soap mixed with something decadent.

He cleared his throat. “If you’re going to do it, do it right.”

“So you think I should…”

“Knock out that wall.” He pointed to the wall separating the kitchen from the living room. “You open up this space, the kitchen and the living room will feel bigger.”

“Really? You can do that?”

“Sure.” He crossed to the wall and rapped on the dry-wall beneath the upper cabinet. “We tear out this wall, put in a structural beam to support the ceiling and you’ve got a whole new kitchen. What’d you say?”

Come on, baby, take a bite. Just a little nibble.

She glanced at him, then back at the wall. Her eyes glazed over, just a little, as if she were trying to imagine what the room would look like. “It’d look great. I—”

She seemed to catch herself just short of saying yes. Shaking her head as if to clear it, she smiled shyly. “I should probably think about it first.”

He’d almost had her. Then, bam, she was gone. Just like that.

Just his luck.

And if his luck didn’t turn soon, he’d be flipping burgers down at the Dairy Barn. Work was scarce in Palo Verde. Scarce, if your name was Alex Moreno.

When he’d moved back here, he hadn’t anticipated the animosity people in this town still harbored against him. But he was determined to prove he wasn’t still the pain-in-the-ass kid he’d been back then. He’d do just about anything to prove it. He’d damn near beg if he had to.

“I’ll tell you what…While you’re thinking about it, I’ll work up a few drawings. Give you an idea of what I’m picturing.”

She looked unconvinced. And again it struck him as odd that she seemed so interested in him, yet so uninterested in her kitchen, when she’d been so insistent on the phone. If she’d been any other woman—anyone other than perfect Jessica Sumners—he’d have assumed she was hitting on him.

The Jessica he knew from high school was smart and fair and always treated people with dignity. And she absolutely did not invite guys she barely knew over to her house for a quick tussle in the sack.

She stepped even closer and placed her hand on his arm. She moistened her lips in a movement that somehow looked both outrageously sensuous and slightly embarrassed all at the same time. “Or maybe we could talk about it more over a drink.” Her voice trembled and her hand felt surprisingly warm against his bare skin.

His gut clenched at her touch. He sucked in a deep breath and the air around him seemed laden with her scent.

Then her words hit him. A drink? She wanted to go out for a drink? Damn, she was hitting on him.

He jerked his arm away from her touch. “By ‘go out for a drink,’ do you mean, go out on a date?”

She shrugged, her shoulders shifting in a movement of graceful self-doubt. “I just thought…well, yes. I’d love to catch up with you. If you’re interested.”

He shook his head, laughing bitterly. Did he want to go out on a date with Jessica Sumners? Hell, yes.

But there was a gleam in her eyes that told him this wasn’t just for old times’ sake. How in God’s name had he been so wrong about her?

One by one, the implications hit him square in the chest.

She’d asked him here to hit on him. Which meant she wasn’t interested in hiring him. Which meant he wasn’t going to get the job he desperately needed. Finally—and strangely, this was the blow that hurt the worst—she wasn’t the sweet, open girl he remembered. She was, however, the kind of woman who liked to order in a little blue-collar fun for the afternoon.