The Closer You Come (The Original Heartbreakers, #1)(60)

Feel free 2 take the entire day off.

Those freeze-out walls really needed work, didn’t they?

Her response: Nah. My errands R 4 YOU, bossman.

A minute passed, then another.

What kind of errands?

Grinning, she stuffed her phone into her pocket. He’d find out when she was good and ready and not a moment before. Until then, he could stew.

Excited, nervous, she left the serenity of redbuds and strawberry vines behind to drive into the city, where she bought a fancy frame and a bundle of heavy paper, as well as time on a computer. As she typed, she constantly glanced over her shoulder to ensure no one was reading what was on the screen.

When she finished her project, she had it printed on the paper, her cheeks burning with embarrassment—and they stayed hot the entire drive to Jase’s house.

Didn’t help that he was on the front porch when she arrived, shirtless and sweaty. The moisture in her mouth dried.

What if he viewed her gift as an attempt at manipulation rather than a way to ease his fears? What if he was right?

Just need a chance with him. This was the only way.

As she traversed the porch steps, he crossed his arms over his muscle-ripped chest. With the farmhouse behind him, framing him, she felt as if she’d just been transported into the pages of a Hunks of Small Town, USA calendar. A place she wanted to live forever.

“You mentioned errands for me,” he said, and she would have sworn she heard excitement underneath his irritation. “You finally get me those ex-large condoms?”

“Nope.” Don’t grin. “First, it’s time for today’s affirmation. You ready? Here goes. I need not suffer in silence while I possess the ability to moan, whimper and complain.”

He went still, not seeming to breathe. “Are you suffering?”

“In a way.” She closed the distance and held out the plaque she’d made. “Here. This is for you.”

He backed away from her, saying, “If this is a resignation letter...”

After all the times he’d fired her, he would complain if she quit? “Do us both a favor and read it.”

He took the thing reluctantly and looked it over, his frown vanishing. His eyes flipped up to her, flames sparking to life deep, deep inside their emerald depths. She shifted from one foot to the other, waiting for him to say something, anything.

“Well?” she asked and gulped.

“‘I, Brook Lynn Dillon,’” he read, the tenor of his voice husky and rough, “‘hereby promise Jase I’m Not Sure What His Middle Name Is Hollister one night. Only one. Afterward there will be no tears, no clinging and no romantic gestures of any kind. I will be an employee of Hollister Slave Trade, nothing more.’”

“I even signed it,” she said—with what had felt like blood.

“I see that,” he replied.

When he said nothing more, she once again shifted uncomfortably. “Well?”

His stare returned to her, hotter than before, with absolutely no sign of frost. “We will discuss this after eight, when you’re off the clock.”

*

JASE HAD NEVER been so turned on, and he’d never watched a clock quite so intensely, trying to stare it into flashing the number he wanted. Brook Lynn’s gift had surprised him. More than surprised him. It had set off a waterfall of the most exquisite, terrifying need inside him—one that had been close to drowning him since he’d gotten her into his bed.

He hadn’t been sleeping well, his attempts to avoid her leaving him restless and irritable. Yesterday West had called him a he-beast without equal, and Beck had just flat-out announced he was an *. But how was a man supposed to go about normal business once he’d held Brook Lynn Dillon in his arms?

Jase had continually replayed the things they’d done together. The kissing, the touching. The way they’d writhed against each other. Afterward, as the days passed, his craving for her had begun to seem bottomless, endless, but so had his guilt. He wasn’t right for her, and while he knew it, she didn’t. Not yet.

He wasn’t just a petty con man, like her uncle. He was a murderer. There’d never been a stronger deal breaker.

Plus, he lost complete awareness of his surroundings whenever he put his hands on her, and for someone who liked to stay on guard at all times, that left him exposed. In more ways than one.

Despite all of that, he wanted her. And now she wanted a night with him. He only wished she had demanded more for herself. More from him.

Complaining? Seriously?

Soon he would have her, all of her, and nothing else mattered. His gaze made another mad dash for the clock. Only five. Damn it!

Brook Lynn puttered around in the kitchen, preparing dinner. The smell of home surrounded him—something that was brand-new to him but quickly becoming familiar—a little sweet, a little spicy. He fell on the couch, propping his elbows onto his knees and resting his head in his upraised hands. He was going to have a heart attack before he got her naked, wasn’t he?

And how the hell was he supposed to sit across from her at the table, knowing she ached for him?

He should have carried her to his bedroom the second she’d given him her gift. Like an idiot gentleman, he’d decided to wait, unwilling to let her feel cheap or as if he was paying her for sex. He couldn’t offer to give her the day off, because she would just refuse payment for work she hadn’t done, and the girl needed every cent she could get. Especially since she kept attempting to pay him back for the hospital bill.