As Nick pounded up the stairs to the attic, Eva began unpacking the box and spreading the items around her on the carpet. Winifred’s collection included satin corsets in various colors, thigh-high boots, fishnet stockings, crotchless panties and several transparent negligees.
Nick’s progress back down the stairs was more hesitant. Either he was carrying something very heavy or he’d figured out he’d have to pass by her to reach the hall. She was going with reason number two. Grinning, she surveyed the colorful array of racy items.
He appeared lugging a wooden crate and walking briskly. On his way through the living room, he cast a furtive glance at the items on the carpet. Then he gasped and froze in a perfect deer-in-the-headlights stance. “Good Lord.” His cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink before he bolted.
She was still giggling when he came back through.
“Not looking,” he sang out as he hurried toward the stairs and bounded up to the second floor. His voice drifted down to her. “Any chance you could tuck those back in the box for now?”
She swallowed another giggle. “Of course.”
“Thanks.” He continued up the next set of stairs.
Before beginning that task, she took out the final item—another journal. The one stored in the black trunk had a virginal white cover, likely chosen on purpose to signify Winifred’s determined chastity. The vibrant red cover on this one practically glowed. Eva longed to untie the red ribbon holding it closed and dive right in.
No time. Laying it aside, she began repacking the sexy items. By using a battered old cardboard box and labeling it Odds & Ends, Winifred had disguised the contents beautifully. Good thing the tape had come undone or this box likely would have been the last one sorted. If someone else had bought the house, the box might have been tossed in the trash unopened.
But no one else would have bought the house, because she was destined to have it. Closing the flaps on the box, she moved it to a corner of the living room.
She’d just retrieved the journal from the floor where she’d left it when Nick came down with another cardboard box. He handled it as if it weighed nothing.
Balancing it against his hip and holding it one-handed, he looked around until his gaze settled on the box in the corner.
She smiled. “Out of sight, out of mind.”
“I’m afraid not. The sight of those items spread out on the carpet is burned into my eyeballs.”
“You’ve never seen that kind of thing before?”
“Only in magazines on women I didn’t know. This is a whole other level of…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what. Do you have a plan for what to do with them?”
“Not really.” She couldn’t help herself. Watching him blush was too much fun. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“No, ma’am, I do not.” His cheeks turned pink. “I get what you were saying before. Can’t exactly donate that sort of thing to a local charity.”
“But it’s all in such great shape. Throwing it away seems wrong.”
He sighed. “I’m opposed to wasting things, too, but how do you recycle something like that?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.” She held up the journal. “This was at the bottom of the box.”
He eyed it warily. “Read any of it?”
“Haven’t had a chance, but I will. I’m dying of curiosity.” If this journal turned out to be as hot as Winifred’s outfits indicated it might be, she’d be wise to read it in small doses, especially with a sexy cowboy on the premises.
“Do you suppose she wrote about—”
“I can’t imagine what else if she put it in the same box with her outfits.”
His chest heaved. “Yeah.” He gestured toward the box. “I’d better take this to the back porch.”
“I’m sure it’s past time for your iced coffee and cinnamon roll break.”
“No point in stopping now. I’m almost done. Give me another ten minutes and I’ll have everything out of there except the big mirror and the coat tree. Do you want those brought down, too?”
“I would love that, but the cheval mirror’s going to be a bugger.”
“Cheval?”
“That’s the name of that style, with a tilting mirror in a standing frame. Theoretically you can tighten the screws on the swivel part to stabilize it, but that part’s worn. It’s gonna tilt.”
“Where do you want it?”
“In my bedroom, but—”
“That means it only has to go down one set of stairs. Could you stuff something between the mirror and the frame to stabilize it?”
“It’s not recommended. Puts a strain on the frame.”
“Duct tape, then? Only has to be on there long enough for the trip down the stairs.”
“That could work.”
“If the mirror’s stabilized, I could back down the stairs holding the base while you support the top. I think it’s doable.”
“It’s a deal. Are the rest of the boxes like that one? If they’re light, I could come up and help you finish.”
“I’m not sure if they’re light or heavy, but it’s broiling up there. I’m already sweaty. No reason for you to get sweaty, too.”
She could think of a reason, but it had nothing to do with moving boxes. And speaking of sweat, it looked darned good on him, dampening the front of his T-shirt in a vee-shaped pattern from his strong neck to his impressive abs.
If she took a couple of steps, she could shove the material up and lick salty beads of sweat from his abs to his pecs. Then she’d—
His soft moan startled her out of her impromptu daydream. Her gaze rose to meet his. Whoa. The heat in his eyes scorched her from head to toe.
He cleared his throat. “Good thing I’m holding this box.”
She sucked in a breath as his intense stare ignited a fire in every one of her erogenous zones. “You could… put it down.”
His laughter was choked. “Don’t think so. I’ve punched holes in it.”
She glanced at the spot where his hand gripped the side of the box. “Yeah, you did.”
“I’ll go unhook myself and… calm the hell down.” He turned and headed for the hall.
She followed his progress with hungry eyes. “Don’t calm down on my account,” she called after him.
“That’s exactly why I will. I’m finishing the work you paid for. It’s a matter of principle.” At the end of the hall he turned back to her. “And I’m gonna need your help.”
“But you said you didn’t want me to—”
“Not with the boxes. With the way you look at me.”
“It’s not all my fault. You’re the one who brought up the subject of sweat.”
“Huh?”
“You said you were already sweaty and there was no reason for me to get sweaty, too.”
“So?”
Frustration ramped up her volume. “Are you telling me you didn’t immediately think about sweaty sex?”
“No. No, I didn’t.” His voice grew husky. “But I’m thinking about it, now. Is that why you were looking at me like you wanted to strip me naked?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I was ready to let you.”
“Except you were attached to a box.”
“Yes, ma’am. Would’ve made things awkward.” His chest heaved as he took a deep breath. “Eva, I’m caught between a rock and a hard place.”
“There you go, talking dirty again.”
He smiled. “You’re not helping.”
She opened her mouth to give him a sexy comeback. Closed it again. “You’re right, I’m not. I apologize. I’ll go start on the chili for our lunch. Let me know when you’re ready for your iced coffee and a cinnamon roll.”
“Thanks. Like I said, about ten minutes. Maybe a little longer.”
“See you then.” She turned away from his hot self, walked into the kitchen and started preparing the chili. What a crazy situation she’d landed herself in. She wasn’t sorry. Just… confused.
Only days ago she’d had Nick in her chair as they’d discussed the bachelor auction and his part in it. She’d only wanted boxes moved and stones dug up. Simple. Straightforward. Not so simple and straightforward anymore, was it?
He took a little longer than ten minutes. The chili was simmering on a back burner by the time he walked into the kitchen.
He breathed deep. “Smells great.”
“Thank you.” She laid a wooden spoon in the spoon rest on the stove. “How soon would you like to have lunch?”
“No rush. Okay if I wash up at the sink?”
“You bet. I’ll get our iced coffee.” His every move appealed to her. She longed to touch him, but evidently they were a combustible combo and she needed to curb that urge, at least for now.
She put ice in two tall glasses and added coffee from the carafe in the fridge. After transferring them to the table, she placed a cinnamon roll on a plate and got him a fresh napkin.
“Will you split that with me?”
She turned to him in surprise. “Why?”
“Because I enjoy the taste, but I don’t want a whole one.”
She frowned. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Never better.”
“Are you sure? I haven’t pushed you to drink water. You could be dehydrated.”
“I’m not. When I picked up the gloves and a rag from the truck, I brought in my jug. I know better than to go without water in hot working conditions.”
“Good. I’m embarrassed I didn’t think of that. I should have offered you water from the get-go.”
He shook his head. “Not your job. I’m your workman, not your guest. It’s up to me to take care of my needs.”
I’d love to take care of your needs. She glanced away, afraid he’d see it in her eyes and they’d be in a pickle again.
“Eva? Did I say something that—”
“Don’t mind me.” She met his gaze. “I have sex on the brain. I never expected this to happen. My friends warned me that a bachelor auction had a sexy vibe. And then you rode in on that horse and… it was like a switch flipped.”
“Yeah?” He looked pleased. “The ride?”
She nodded. “I didn’t want to admit it. I thought this morning I’d be over my sudden infatuation, but instead, it’s worse.”
“Or better, at least from my viewpoint.”
“But I’m interfering with your work.”
His expression gentled. “I love that you want to. But I—”
“You have standards. That turns me on, too.”
“Everything about you turns me on.”
“Then what are we going to do?”
“Make a plan.” He walked over to the table and pulled out her chair.
“Will it end with us having sex?” She slid into the chair.
He scooted her in. “If it didn’t, it wouldn’t be much of a plan.”
“Then I’m listening.”