Midnight Kiss (Virgin River #12)(42)

It was her hands doing this, she realized with a jitter. Will had let go, though he still stood right behind her, his body big and warm and—

Another crooked groove. “Sorry.” Focus, Jordan. She redoubled her efforts and moved the tool along the wood as she’d watched him do, weaving in and out and fashioning a curve not nearly as beautiful as his own, but not a total loss.

She pulled away and studied the piece still whirling in front of her. “Not bad, huh?”

Will leaned into her to flip off the switch. “Quite good, in fact.”

“For a beginner?” she asked, turning toward him.

His eyes were hot on her mouth, then flicked up to her eyes. “Accept your due, Jordan. You did well.”

Though her insides jangled, her rush of triumph overrode them, and she had to smile, throwing her arms wide. “I loved it!”

“Careful, now.” He plucked the instrument from her hand, but just as she would have retreated, he took a step toward her, and she lost her breath.

She hastened to cover her intense reaction to him. “Can I do another one?” Then she experienced a moment of unfamiliar shyness. “If you can spare the wood, I mean.”

Those blue eyes saw too much. As happened so often, she had the sense that Will Masterson understood her in ways that disturbed her.

Fortunately for her, he stepped away then, just before she could decide whether to yield to the kiss they were both obviously dying for or to run for her car before things got out of hand.

He turned back with another piece of wood. “All right. Let’s try this one. It’s oak, not pine. You’ll want to pay attention to the difference in them.” He went on to discuss those differences as he removed the turned piece and replaced it with the block.

And Jordan couldn’t decide whether to be miffed or relieved that she’d dodged that bullet.

“WHY WOULD YOU NEED a wife?” Jordan asked much later after a delicious dinner. “You’re a really good cook, on top of everything else. What can a woman do for you that you can’t do for yourself? I can’t believe you actually baked that bread.”

Will settled beside her in the porch swing, looking down at her with a knowing grin on his face.

“Well, sex, sure, but you don’t need marriage for that,” she said.

He chuckled and rested his arm behind her. “Man was not made to live alone.” He glanced over at her. “Nor woman, either.”

“You’re wrong. I prefer to be on my own.” Jordan lifted a shoulder. “Some of us just aren’t meant for the long term.”

Will smiled indulgently, then set the swing in motion with a shove of one foot. “For an intelligent woman, you’ve a feather brain at times.”

Jordan smacked him on the belly, but that didn’t faze him. “Protest as you will, sweetheart, but you know I’m right.”

“I do not.” She frowned and glanced over at him again as the feel of his belly registered. The man had a six-pack, she would swear. Suddenly she really, really wanted to see him out of that flannel shirt and the T-shirt beneath.

“What has that lovely brow so wrinkled?”

“You. You weren’t supposed to be sexy, damn it.”

“What?” He did a double take, then guffawed. “How is one man supposed to keep up with that odd mind of yours?”

“You’re big,” she accused.

“I am. And what, might I ask, am I to do about that?”

“Nothing.” She crossed her arms over her stomach and harrumphed. “My type is lean and dangerous.”

Will sighed and set them swinging again. “You’ve no idea what your type is.”

“I suppose you think it’s you.”

He captured her chin. “Now, why would I be wanting to make myself miserable, getting involved with a difficult woman like you, hmm? Last I looked, I’d not taken leave of my senses.”

Stung, Jordan didn’t respond. How could she argue? She was difficult. And, okay, maybe sometimes she was tired of being so on edge all the time, but… He was so not her type, she reminded herself. A man who worked with his hands, who gardened and cooked. Who wanted some country-girl type and had no taste for night life, for the dangerous edge of risk.

“What’s going on in that serpentine brain?” he asked.

“Nothing. I should go,” she said abruptly. “I never meant to spend the whole day here.”

“Coward.” His face was deadly serious.

“I most certainly am not.”

He merely arched one eyebrow. “You know there’s something between us, and you run rather than face it.”

“Face what?” she scoffed. “You barely even kiss me. Who’s the coward?”

His normally affable manner vanished completely. In a blink, he’d plucked her from her seat and settled her on his lap, sliding one big hand to cradle the back of her head.

And kissed the living socks off her.

For a second, she froze.

Then she dived in. To take control, she’d thought…but control wasn’t in the cards. She dug her hands into his sides and felt muscles even more impressive than she’d realized. For all that Will looked stocky, he actually had great muscle definition. She’d had a fling with a bodybuilder once, and Will’s torso and arms, not the product of steroids, she was sure, would have made that guy jealous.