Judith McWilliams - The Matchmaking Machine

“Okay, traditional guy things, then,” Richard said. “Turn on the faucet, will you?”

Maggie obediently turned on the faucet and yelped when cold water spurted up, soaking the front of her sweater. Hastily, she jumped back. To her dismay, the heel of her shoe caught on the edge of his body and she tripped, landing on him.

The feel of his hard body beneath her soft hips had a curiously enervating effect on her. All she wanted to do was stay there and absorb the feel of his flesh pressing into hers. He felt so good. So…

“Are you all right?” Richard demanded, as Maggie winced. The man must think she was a total klutz.

Hurriedly, she scrambled off him and muttered, “Other than being drenched, I’m fine.”

“Sorry about that, but getting wet is one of the hazards of being a plumber’s helper,” Richard said in a cool tone that was totally at odds with the interest in his eyes as he moved from under the sink and noted the way her wet sweater was plastered to her breasts.

“I am not a plumber’s helper. I’m simply an innocent bystander. A wet innocent bystander.”

“I should be able to do something about the wet part. I replaced a washer in the sink in the kitchen earlier and there’s a washer and dryer in there. We’ll just throw your sweater and bra in the dryer. Since no one’s living here yet, no one will mind.”

Maggie felt her cheeks heat at his casual reference to her underwear. It appeared that even the plumber was more sophisticated than she was.

She shook her head, sending the damp ends of her curls flying. “It’s too risky. Suppose Worthington decided to catch an earlier flight. I can just imagine his reaction if he walked in and found me wrapped in a towel. Besides, I don’t make it a habit to take off my clothes in front of strange men.” Even handsome ones, she silently added.

Actually, she was pretty sure she knew exactly what Worthington’s reaction would be, she thought grimly. One of the strongest dislikes her program had registered was that he hated being chased—apparently even more than he hated publicity. Which probably accounted for the fact that the only photograph she had been able to find of him had been a grainy long-distance shot that looked like it had been taken through a heavy fog. Even the holding company’s website hadn’t included a single photo of her quarry, only of his father, the titular head of the company, John Worthington, Sr.

“We’ll hear him if he shows up, and I’ll distract him with a report on his plumbing while you retrieve your clothes. In the meantime, you can wear my shirt.”

Richard casually stripped it off and handed it to her.

“The guard downstairs told me to make a pot of coffee if I wanted to,” he lied. “Why don’t you change while I fix us some? I’m ready for a break anyway.”

Normally, Maggie would have never considered the offer, but she was due back at the office and showing up in soaking wet clothes just wouldn’t do. Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough time to run back to her own apartment to change. Spending the next fifteen to twenty minutes letting her stuff dry was her best option.

Cautiously, she reached for his shirt, her entire attention focused on his bare chest. It was covered by a thick wedge of curly black hair that arrowed downward, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans.

Maggie’s breathing shortened as in her imagination her fingers followed that line of silky hair down his body, all the way down his body. She shivered as goose-bumps popped up on her arms.

“You’re chilled.” Richard misinterpreted her reaction.

“Hurry up and get out of those wet clothes.”

Stepping around her, he left, quietly closing the door behind him.

Maggie released her breath on a long, wistful sigh, then blinked when she could still see the enticing vision of his bare chest in her mind’s eye.

“Okay, so you’ve got a bad case of the hots for the plumber,” she muttered to herself. “There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re a normal woman. Why shouldn’t you respond to male perfection when you find it?”

Heat twisted through her abdomen at the thought of just how enthusiastically she’d like to respond.

Chance was a fine thing, she thought ruefully as she pulled her sweater over her head. She might lust after him, but she’d seen no sign that he felt anything at all when he looked at her.

What kind of woman would appeal to Richard? She wondered and immediately thought of her program. Unfortunately, there was no way she could apply it to a normal man. It was only high-profile ones like John Worthington that she could find out enough information about to use it on.

She frowned as she remembered why she was here in the first place. Unfortunately, her plan to check the apartment for clues to Worthington’s personality wasn’t going to get very far with Richard here. He might be taking full advantage of his boss’s offer to use the facilities, but she doubted that he’d stand by and let her snoop in drawers. He’d be afraid that she might take something and he’d get blamed.

The vexing problem of getting even with John Worthington slipped from her mind as she pulled Richard’s softly worn denim shirt on and the citrusy scent of his cologne drifted into her lungs, speeding up her heart rate and making her nerves tighten. Trying to ignore the unsettling sensation, Maggie buttoned the shirt and then rolled up the sleeves so that she could use her hands. Picking up her wet clothes, the manila envelope and her purse, she went to look for the kitchen.

She had no trouble finding it. She simply followed the tantalizing smell of freshly brewed coffee. She walked into the large room decorated entirely in white—white tile floor, white walls, white cabinets and white ceiling. Even the appliances were white.

“This place could double as an operating room,” she said as she handed Richard her wet clothes. “Make sure you use the delicate low-heat option.”

He opened a pair of white louvered doors on the opposite wall to reveal a tiny laundry room. He tossed her damp things into the white dryer, set it and turned it on.

“I think the owner is into the utilitarian look. Either that or he never comes into the kitchen, so he doesn’t care how stark it looks. Help yourself to some coffee.” Richard gestured toward the steaming pot.

Maggie set her envelope and purse down on the counter, took one of the mugs hanging from a cast-iron holder and poured herself a cup. She sat down on a bar stool at the Corian breakfast bar.

“I hope they don’t take long to dry. I want to get out of here before Worthington shows. Did whoever hired you tell you when he was scheduled to arrive?” she asked.

Maggie noticed his slight frown and assumed it was because he didn’t know whom she was talking about. “Or weren’t you told whom you were doing the job for?”

Thoughtfully, Richard took a drink of his coffee as he tried to decide what to do. He didn’t like lying, even by omission, but the idea of telling Maggie the truth appealed to him even less. If he did, she would probably walk out, and he didn’t want her to. He wanted the chance to get to know her better. Much better.

He’d been intrigued by her from the moment he’d first he’d seen her. Her gleaming brown hair with its reddish highlights and her deep blue eyes appealed to his aesthetic sense, while the perfection of her slender, long legs made him fantasize about what it would feel like to have them wrapped around him.

Richard studied her over the rim of her coffee cup. She really did think he was the plumber, which meant that the sexual interest he could see in her eyes every time she looked at him was for him and not his money. The knowledge sent a fizz of anticipation zinging through his bloodstream—an anticipation vaguely tinged with worry as he remembered her very unflattering opinion of him. Would that spark of interest die when she found out who he really was? And she would have to find out. There was no way he could keep his identity a secret from her indefinitely. Once he showed up at the office on Monday, everyone would be jostling for a glimpse of him. But that was Monday, and this was only Friday. He had a little time before he had to tell her the truth—time enough to convince her that the nasty rumors circulating in the office about him obviously had no basis in fact.