The Closer You Come (The Original Heartbreakers, #1)(50)

After a night of constantly replaying the best damn kiss of his life, craving Brook Lynn, desperate for her, he’d gotten up at dawn to finish shingling the roof. He’d worked like a madman, pouring his sexual frustration into the task.

He’d had a mere taste, and now his body hoped to gorge. He wanted her more now than he ever had before.

He yearned to go to Brook Lynn, to talk to her...to kiss her again—and more, so much more. Hence the laps. If he kept himself busy, he had a better chance of resisting temptation and staying away from her.

The kiss had been a mistake. Clearly. His favorite mistake, yes, but a mistake nonetheless. It had split him open, allowing some of his secrets to spill out. He’d willingly shared bits and pieces of his past with her, leaving him vulnerable, shaky, on edge. And yet, strangely sated.

Can’t go further with her. Can’t share other secrets.

She thought a woman—herself—would be able to forgive Jase’s past, but her uncle had been a no-good con man, predisposing her to dislike anyone who broke the law. She probably wouldn’t take the time to distinguish a career criminal from a onetime offender, especially when the single crime was so horrific.

More than that, she clung to hope of a happily-ever-after. He knew better, knew there was no such thing. Did he really want to be the one who destroyed her dreams? Of all his crimes, that would be the worst.

He rounded the end of the pool—and found the object of his torment seated on the other side with her bare feet dipped in the water. He stopped abruptly, nearly sinking to the bottom before he had the presence of mind to tread.

The sight before him... Killing me. Flaxen hair glimmered in the sunlight. Tanned skin appeared brushed with hints of copper and gold. A white tank and faded jean shorts hugged the very curves he’d had underneath him almost twenty-four hours ago.

A rush of testosterone...endorphins...whatever revved him up. “I thought I fired you,” he said, annoyed by the way his heartbeat sped up.

“Congrats! You’ve just rehired me.” She whipped a small object from her back pocket and grinned at him—a wicked grin that made him as uneasy as it did hot. “To celebrate, I brought you a present.”

As he reluctantly swam closer, she lifted her fingers from the object, one by one...and he came face-to-face with a tube of Preparation H.

He barked out a laugh, the burst of humor as new to him now as it had been the last time. “You really are a pain, you know that?”

“Well, I’m not letting you rub the medication all over me, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

Wrong words. Provocative words. He lost his amusement in a nanosecond, his mind trapped by images of his hands moving on her, all over her.

Sinking again... He’d been reaching for his erection, because yes, he now had one, his length as hard as a steel pipe. He’d almost stroked himself in front of her.

“You’re not working for me anymore, Brook Lynn.” He meant those words, he really did.

“Please, Jase.” She clapped her hands together, creating a steeple. “Please. I need this job.”

No. Absolutely not. He couldn’t be exposed to this kind of temptation every day.

His silence must have propelled her in another direction. “I still owe you sandwiches, remember?”

“Okay, you’re rehired,” he said, unable to stop the words from leaving his mouth. What the hell was wrong with him? His only excuse was that she gave good lunch. The best he’d ever had.

She rewarded him with a wide, toothy grin. “Thank you, Mr. Hollister. You’re a doll.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he muttered. Though he would have liked nothing more than to climb out of the pool, he continued to tread. He was as far from perfect as she was close to it; his scars might appall her...or lead to questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. “You haven’t heard your new duties.”

“I don’t care what they are,” she said, completely earnest. “I’ll do them.”

Oh, angel. You should have kept those words to yourself. The things I want you to do to me...

This time, his silence must have unnerved her, because she began to babble. “I’m going to work for you from sunup till sundown, and every week you’re going to deduct a hundred dollars from my paycheck, until I’ve paid back every penny you spent on me.”

“Uh, that would be a big, fat no.”

She kicked water at him, saying, “What’s yours is mine, but what’s mine is mine, is that it?”

“Something like that. Which is something you should thank me for, honey.” Something he’d never offered to another woman, but knowing her, she would protest. She always—

“Fine,” she said and sighed. “Don’t take out the money.”

He eyed her with suspicion and thought, Too easy. This has to be a trick. Would he soon find surprise wads of cash stuffed in his dresser drawers?

Bingo. She was just sneaky enough to try it.

He was sneakier.

“Let’s backtrack a bit,” he said. “How can you work for me from sunup to sundown? What about your hours at Rhinestone Cowgirl?” When he’d spoken to Edna the day of Brook Lynn’s injury, her daughter had just returned to town, and the woman had made it sound as though she would be too busy to man the counter herself, that she would need Brook Lynn more than ever.