The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(40)

And fuck, I wanted her.

Without another word, I left, hoping I was doing the right thing.





16





Cameron





The sun hadn’t risen, but I was wide awake. I sat on a tall stool in my workshop, the parts of a dismantled blender spread out on the spacious worktable. The walls were lined with shelves, drawers, and bins, all my tools and materials neatly organized. I had everything from plastics and heat guns to a 3-D printer and a soldering iron.

Some women dealt with stress by going to the spa or with retail therapy. Others meditated, practiced yoga, or took long, hot baths with a glass of wine. I did those things, too. But my favorite way to de-stress was tinkering.

I’d been a tinkerer from the time I’d had enough hand-eye coordination to take apart my toys. As I got older, I started putting them back together again—only with modifications. I’d happily put motors on model airplanes to make them fly, built solar-powered robots that walked and had lights that flashed, and tried to enhance every household appliance I could get my hands on.

I didn’t want to brag, but the modifications I’d made to my Lady Jam Personal Erotic Massager had become the stuff of legend. My friends had all bought the same model and made me trick out theirs too.

Pushing the safety glasses back up my nose, I inspected my handiwork. This blender had never worked as well as it should. I’d swiped it off the kitchen counter this morning while I’d waited for my coffee to brew, suddenly determined to make it better.

At the moment, it was still in pieces. But I wasn’t finished.

Someone knocked on the partially open door.

“Yeah?” I asked, not looking up.

“What is that?” Inda asked. “Your blender?”

“Uh huh.” I kept my eyes on the tiny screw I was reinserting.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why do you think something would be wrong?”

“Because you’re out here destroying your blender and it’s not even six in the morning. Did you sleep?”

I tested the fit of the base that housed the motor. I was going to have to shave down some of the plastic to make it fit. Or maybe fabricate a new one. “Yes, I slept. I woke up early. And I’m not destroying my blender. It sucks. Or it did. It won’t when I’m done with it.”

“Okay,” she said in a tone that made it clear she didn’t believe me. “Are you going to finish up first, or…?”

“Why? Isn’t it my day off?”

“From work? Yes, it’s Sunday.”

“No, from you.”

She laughed. “Nope. Leg day.”

I eyed her over the top of the glasses. Evil woman. “Fine. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“I already set your workout clothes on your bed.”

“You think of everything, don’t you?”

“Just doing my job,” she said with a smile, then turned on her heel and left.

Of course she was just doing her job. Most of the people in my life were around because they worked for me. They had a job to do, and they did it.

I took off the glasses and set them on the table. I knew I was being sensitive because of what Jude had said last night. He was just doing his job. But what else did I expect? That in the aftermath of a tense and scary situation, we would have fallen into bed together? Had wild, adrenaline-fueled sex until we both collapsed from exhaustion?

The stupid part of me had thought that, yes.

The uncomfortable ache that still lingered between my legs was entirely my fault. I shouldn’t have been fantasizing about him like that. Not when I’d almost been hit by a car.

And why did my thoughts keep returning to Jude and his annoyingly hot body? If he was right, and last night hadn’t been an accident, I had an enormous problem on my hands. Someone was trying to intimidate, hurt, or possibly even kill me. This wasn’t the time to be indulging in daydreams about getting naked with the man who was supposed to protect me.

But it wasn’t just the sex fantasies that had me so distracted my brain was prioritizing the bulge in Jude’s pants over the very real problems in my life. I liked him. There was more than physical attraction at work here, and it was scaring the hell out of me.

I wasn’t ready for this.

My heart was still bruised by Aldrich’s betrayal. I’d let him into my inner circle, and the number of people I allowed that close was very small. My three best friends. To a much lesser extent, the people who worked closely with me, both at Spencer and here at home. But even there, the natural boundaries of being the boss kept distance between us.

And Jude worked for me. I was his client, he was my contractor. That was the nature of our relationship, and I needed to remember that.

Leaving the still-dismantled blender, I went upstairs to change, then subjected myself to leg day with Inda. She coached me through heavy squats, walking lunges, stiff-leg deadlifts, squat jumps, and various other tortures.

I focused on her voice, giving me brisk words of encouragement. On the heat and burn in my muscles. On the sweat that dripped down my back and glistened on my forehead. On the steady stream of eighties music blasting in my home gym.

But even the musical stylings of Wham! and A-ha weren’t enough to break me out of my funk.

When I finished, she sent me out to the kitchen for a breakfast protein shake. Nicholas was there, grumbling that the blender had gone missing. I patted him on the back, told him not to worry about it, and grabbed a premade protein drink from the pantry.