“Oh, that will allay her suspicions. She’ll think you’re a criminal.”
“Or a conspiracy theorist.” Riley took a thoughtful drink. “You know, that could work. I accused her of being a spy last night. If I behave like I’m generally paranoid, she’ll think it’s just my personality.”
Ashton chuckled. “Can I come along? This sounds entertaining.”
* * *
Kalissa couldn’t decide if Riley was paranoid, a covert operative or maybe even in the witness protection program. He claimed to be a conspiracy theorist, but she wasn’t buying it. Never mind that few conspiracy theorists would describe themselves that way, over the past week she’d found his most dominant characteristics to be intelligence and hard work.
He was far more normal and much more agreeable than he’d seemed at first, and she hated to think that somebody that great looking and sexy would be unbalanced. It wouldn’t be fair to the women of Chicago.
After thinking it through, she was going with the witness protection program theory.
He’d offered to pay a premium, so they’d bumped him to the top of their list. After some initial work, mostly to level the ground and rip out the sickly lawn, the delivery service had dropped off a load of milled, Colorado flagstone. The installers were due on Thursday to lay the rock for the patio.
She was excited about the patio, and in particular that Riley had agreed to a spa and barbecue area. It was exactly how she’d do the yard if she was the owner. She knew the final photos were going to look great on their web site.
The sun was setting now as she made her way around to the back of his house.
“Thirsty?” Riley surprised her by calling down from the sundeck above her.
She looked toward the sound of his voice.
“Looks good.” He nodded to the flat stones piled on wood pallets. Their tones were rich and varied in rust, browns and chalk. “Come on up.”
“Sure.” She crossed the raw dirt to the outdoor staircase and made her way up to join him.
“Iced tea?” he asked as she made it to the top. He gestured to a pitcher on a round wooden table that was bracketed by two wooden deck chairs.
“Love some.”
She lowered herself into one of the chairs, taking the weight off her tired legs.
It had been a hot day, and her powder blue cotton shirt was clinging damply to her body. Her jeans were dusty, and her hair was sticky with sweat and garden dirt.
She pulled out her ponytail and ran a hand through it, discovering a twig and a couple of leaves. She couldn’t help but sigh as she discarded them. It seemed Riley was never going to see her at her best.
He’d arrived home from work about an hour ago, just missing Megan who’d left for another jobsite. He was dressed in his suit pants and dress shirt, his tie loosened around his neck. His hair was neat, his face clean shaven, and his fingernails were spotless.
She glanced down at her own fingers and curled them into her palms. She’d worn gloves all day and kept them relatively clean, but she was in desperate need of a manicure. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn nail polish or had her hair trimmed. She’d pretty much kill for a spa day.
He poured the iced tea. “Looks like you’ve made good progress.”
“Your lawn is gone,” she acknowledged.
“Wasn’t much of a lawn to start with.”
She didn’t disagree. “There must have been a lot of annual ryegrass in the mix. Did you aerate, fertilize, re-seed?”
There was humor in his eyes. “Your lips are moving, and sounds are coming out, but...”
She found herself grinning in return. “Never mind. We’ll take care of it.”
“Where’s Megan?”
“We’re starting another job over in Oak Park.”
“You seem busy.”
She accepted a glass filled with sweet tea and plenty of ice-cubes. “We’re getting there, slowly. We keep adding casual workers to our roster. But it’s hard to be competitive and still make a profit.”
“I hear you.” He gave a sage nod as he sat down.
“You said you own your own business?” She’d come to understand that he was a private person, but she hoped he’d share a few more details.
“We manufacture parts, mostly for the transportation sector. Margins are tough in any business.”
“How long have you been in business?”
“Ten years all told. I started small. You?”
“Just under a year. We’ve been working hard, and our customer base is gradually growing.” She lifted her glass in a toast. “Thank you for adding to it.”
“I’ll tell my friends about you.”
She took a sip.
“Anything you need me to do tonight?” he asked.
Though he rarely got home before seven, Riley had jumped in on several occasions, getting work done after the crews left, both to save money and to make things smoother the next day.
“We’ve leveled the ground.” She rose to gaze over the rail. It was growing dark, but she could still make out the newly worked area in the yard. “Next step is for the installers to lay the stone.”
Riley rose and moved to stand beside her. “Next step requires professional expertise?”
“It does.”
“And I’m not an expert.”
“Not unless there’s something you’re not telling me.” She let the comment dangle, wondering if he’d decide to divulge something new.
A gust of a breeze came up, and she brushed her loose hair out of her face.
“There is something I’m not telling you,” he said in an oblique tone than triggered a shimmer of sexual awareness.
“What is it?” She found herself holding her breath.
The silence stretched, so she looked up. He was closer than she’d realized. His gaze was warm and intimate.
The awareness increased, warming the surface of her skin while paradoxically raising goose bumps.
Without a word, he brushed a stray lock of hair back from her temple.
His callused fingertips seemed to hum against her skin. His touch felt good. It felt sexy.
“You’re incredibly beautiful,” he whispered, easing slightly closer.
The statement took her by surprise. “I’m mostly dusty.”
He smiled. “I can’t see any dust. But I can see your gorgeous eyes, and I can see your beautiful lips.”
His smile disappeared, and he ran the pad of his thumb across her lower lip.
“Soft,” he whispered, leaning in.
She drew in a breath and held it.
His palm slipped up, cradling her cheek, his fingertips easing into her hair. He bent his head.
She stilled, waiting.
The kiss started soft, but soon heated between them. Her fingers curled into her palms, and she stretched up. Her lips parted, and he firmed his own, bracing his free hand across the small of her back.
She opened wider, and his tongue flicked in. She met him with her own, angling her head. She raised her palms to his chest, sweeping them upward, marveling