“JD.” Resting his work-roughened hands on the countertop, he flitted his gaze over her legs.
Her skirt had hitched up too high. She thought about using her handbag as a cover but she had worn the bad-girl, tight red skirt to change her image. Breathing out, she put the bag on the floor, giving him a sideways glance. “I’m guessing. An abbreviation of Juvenile Delinquent?” She held her breath.
He smiled, forming creases that were almost dimples. “From West Side Story?” He scooped the ground beans into the measure.
She half-relaxed. He recognized the musical, and most men didn’t. “Just Deciding might suit you better.” She laughed at her blatant hint but when his gaze connected with hers, her face warmed. He could take all the time he needed and if he didn’t plan on having sex with her, the world wouldn’t end. He might simply have wanted a comfortable ride home. Men invariably preferred using her cars.
Fortunately, he gave her an amused look. Reaching for the mugs, he showed her an impressive back view, wide at the top and angling to lean hips and a tight, hard rear. Although stacked, he couldn’t be called handsome. The left side of his face had been puckered by a scar that wove up his cheek and toward his eye. He looked like the tradesman he was, an appearance he emphasized with his faded jeans and cotton shirt.
“How do you like your coffee?” He stared at her over his shoulder.
“Plain black, please.”
At the party for High Society, she’d used champagne to segue into the new sophisticated Vix Tremain. Awkward, tactless Victoria Nolan had barely spoken to a man in this past year, let alone stumbled into his house. Married young, she’d never ventured into the dating scene. Instead, she had accepted the first man who had shown an interest in her, impressionable fool that she had been. “How complicated was your last set?”
“A single room.” He shrugged. “Three entrances and a flight of stairs.” He brought over a brimming coffee, placing the mug on the blue-painted table adjacent to her seat.
“Sit here,” she said, amazing herself by patting the cushion beside her. She even considered adding a casual touch by kicking off her heels, but couldn’t with any semblance of grace. Her legs were long and her skirt was a size tighter than she usually bought. She should have worn fitted pants. Then she could have crossed her legs or casually hooked one up onto the couch. Dressing to pick up a man needed more planning than she had imagined. She dragged in a breath. “I see we have ten scene changes. That’s enough to keep me painting solidly for the next three months.”
He lowered himself beside her. For a few heartbeats, he sat silently. “Are you being paid for your time or the job?”
“For the job. My specialty is set design, but I’ve never worked. I have to start. So, I thought taking on the painting first would ease my way in, which makes the money immaterial.”
He gave an almost imperceptible nod. “When did it happen?”
“Getting the job?”
“I’m asking about your divorce.” He lifted her third finger, left hand, which still held an indented reminder of the wedding ring she no longer wore.
She no longer owned the platinum band, either. Although she should have flushed the meaningless thing into the sewer, she couldn’t stand waste. Instead, she had gone out to buy herself a box of celebration chocolates, the last she had eaten since then, and sold the ring, dropping the money into the hat of the first street musician she saw on the way back to her car. “You’re observant. I’ve been free for a year.”
“Good.”
She tilted her head to the side, trying an unconcerned smile. “Because?”
His eyebrows lifted.
Her insides began to quiver with hope.
He settled his arm along the back of the couch. His hand touched her hair, and he tugged a lock. “What am I going to do with you?” He used a deep, soft tone.
“Did you have anything else in mind when you offered to make me coffee?” Her tentative gaze met his.
“Not my thinking mind, no.”
“Your thinking mind as compared to…?”
He drew air through his teeth. “As compared to the mind I don’t often use when I’m with a beautiful woman. So...” He rested one large hand on the side of her neck and his thumb under her jaw. Leaning over, he touched his lips to hers.
A delicious shiver ran though her. His eyelashes were thick and brown at the tips and blond near his lids.
When she could breathe evenly, she said, “You have nice, soft lips.”
“That’s my line.” His steady gaze held hers.
“I thought you might need encouragement.”
His mouth tilted at the corners and his eyes gleamed. “More likely discouragement.”
She gave an off-hand shrug, smiling inside. “I’m just not in the mood to do that,” she said, trying for a mock snooty tone.
“To discourage me?” He glanced sideways at her. “Let me get this straight. You want to encourage me?”
“I drove you home. What would you expect if you had driven me home?” She lifted her eyebrows.
He nodded. “I would hope for much more than a cup of coffee.”
She couldn’t look away from him, and she certainly couldn’t breathe.
He meshed his fingers with hers. “And, fair’s fair.” Staring at her face, he put his other arm along the back of the couch behind her. His hand shifted to the nape of her neck and she found herself tucked into his frame.
She glanced up, hoping to be kissed again.
He obliged, dropping his mouth lightly over hers and testing her upper lip with his tongue.
She drew back. “The bedroom?”
“Right now?”
Experimentally, she brushed his upper thigh with her knuckles, noting an exciting shape expanding his jeans. “I can’t possibly give you time to change your mind.”
He picked up her hand and gently took the pad of her forefinger between his lips. “Why hurry? We’re going to be working together,” he said in a relaxed voice.
“Not often. When your job ends, mine begins. I can’t paint a set before it’s built.”
He toyed with her fingers.
She wriggled uncomfortably. “If you’re afraid of awkwardness when we meet again, I’m sure we will hardly ever meet again. I mean…”
“So, you want to get into bed with someone that you expect to hardly ever meet again?”
Her insides began to shake. “If you don’t want to, you can say no. I thought… Well, it’s kind of normal, isn’t it, to have an instant physical attraction to someone? Well, it’s not normal for me, but…”
He leaned back, staring into her eyes. “I didn’t plan on saying no.”
“Are we arguing about what happens next, or are we agreeing?” She started to chew on her lip and, mindful of looking insecure, stopped.
He glanced away. “What color are my eyes?”
“You have light brown hair, so you probably have light eyes.”
“Your eyes are blue.”
“You’re looking straight at them now,” she said indignantly.
“How does that follow? You’re not naturally blond.”
“I almost am.”