What a Bachelor Needs (Bachelor Auction Book 4)(23)

“It’s unused, yes, but it still came from the thrift store. They got a few rolls in from somewhere.”

“Are you lying to me? Because, if you are…please don’t. I hate being lied to, manipulated, or taken for a fool. I’ve been there. Didn’t like it.”

His eyes narrowed. “I got it from the thrift store – unused and discount priced – and I want to make a deal with you when it comes to honesty and expectations. I will never lie to you. In return, you will never compare me to Boyd Prescott. Ever. I am not him.”

He hadn’t moved from the doorway. Nor had he raised his voice, but Mardie didn’t need to be Einstein to know she’d offended him.

“Jett, I’m—

“Training camp 101,” he interrupted. “Put your needs and wants on the table. Identify them. Tell people what those goals are and, more often than not, people can and will help you reach them. No confusion. Want to try it?”

“I—yes?” A man who knew what he wanted and how to voice it? One who left enough space for her needs as well? She should probably bottle him. “Yes. We can do that.”

He smiled and sunshine broke out, never mind the storm surrounding them.

“Want to see the rug?” Action man was in action again, crouching down and reaching for his pocket knife. “This one’s supposed to be ivory, but whether it’s the same pattern as the blue one in the store is anyone’s guess. It’s a mystery rug.”

The plastic came off. Mardie helped him roll it out to reveal a textured carpet made of wool and what looked like silk, in varying shades of white-on-white for added depth. The pattern involved flowers and fans and looked vaguely oriental and utterly feminine.

Mardie ran her palm across it and it was just as soft and luxurious to the touch as it looked.

Claire was going to love it.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful.” It fit her vision for this room exactly, never mind that practicality would probably have had her hesitating over the color and the undoubted expense. “It’s just what the room needs. When will the floor be finished so that I can start moving furniture in?”

“Probably not until next week. I’ll put a coat of poly on in the morning, but it’ll take another few days for it to dry in this weather. The next coat can probably go on early next week.”

“I can do that,” she said.

“I can come back,” he countered, but she shook her head.

“One week. That was the deal.”

He frowned.

“Besides, Ella told me not to sweat you on the little stuff. Told me to dream big. How would you feel about getting rid of the red cupboards in the kitchen and knocking the wall out from between kitchen and dining room? Make it one big open space.”

“I’d feel enthusiastic.”

Enthusiasm was addictive. “Note that I don’t want you to start knocking walls down right this minute. There’s wine on the table for you or beer in the fridge.”

He smiled again and she curled her fingers into the soft pile of the carpet in a concerted effort not to reach for him.

She stood, feeling awkward, what with nothing whatsoever standing between her and Jett. Not the past, no Claire to see to. Nothing but the rest of the day coiling out in front of them.

She didn’t want to make a mess of it, but she did want to know something. “Jett, should I be treating this afternoon meal like a date?”

“Yes. You should definitely be doing that.” He had a way of looking at her that made her feel so warm and willing.

“And when you date, do you usually go really fast or really slow?”

“I’m not slow to hook up when I’m interested in someone. And I swear that this isn’t just the honesty kitchen effect, although come to think of it, yes, yes it is. The point is, I will never force my attentions where they’re not wanted. We can go as fast or as slow as you want. Your call.”

“Oh, good,” she said, and kissed him.

*

Jett had a lively imagination, one of the best, but he had never imagined his Wednesday afternoon going anything like this.

He was lost in the taste of her three seconds after her mouth hit his. Perfectly willing to help her take his shirt off moments after that. Whatever the hell Mardie wanted from him, she could have.

Her lips to the pulse point beneath his jaw, not a problem. Hands on his chest? Yes, and anywhere else she cared to put them.

“I don’t need more time, when it comes to you,” she said with a pretty little hitch in her voice that turned him inside out. “You’ve been my go-to fantasy since I was fifteen.”

Well, there was food for thought. Her hands were at the waistband of his jeans, her fingers enticingly close to where he wanted them to be. He took her hand and dragged it across his length even as her mouth met his again for a deep and dirty kiss. “How do I measure up?”

She dragged her hand down his erection, firm and bold, just how he liked it. “Better than expected.”

She undid his zipper next, carefully, given the delicate obstruction. He relieved her of her shirt.

And then he hitched her skirt high, cupped her buttocks and lifted her up against him. Still a lightweight and perfect in his arms as she wrapped her legs around him, buried her fingers in his hair and tugged his head back so that she could attack his mouth again.