He didn’t know if he should sneer or sigh. Almost a decade later and he was still the bad boy of Santa Vera? You’d think they’d have found something else to gossip about after all this time. Then again, he hadn’t changed his wild ways much, so why would he expect the town to quit being a pain in his ass?
“I didn’t realize you worked for your father,” she said with a frown.
“I don’t.” He wasn’t about to admit that his mother blackmailed him, though, so he just shrugged. “I’m helping out on a couple jobs. It’s just temporary.”
“Right, short-term. Sounds like the perfect plan…” Her voice trailed off, and an intriguing look crossing her face. He suddenly felt like a one-pound box of rich, creamy chocolates sitting in front of a starving woman. And damned if he wouldn’t enjoy her diving in for a taste.
Maybe this stint in purgatory wouldn’t be too bad with the help of the sweet Ms. Santos.
Then, like she’d given herself a mental shake, her face cleared. “So in a roundabout way, you’re working for me, hmm?”
At his shrug her face went smooth, a professional mask falling over her porcelain features. Dante grimaced. He hated masks.
But unlike his typical reaction—to sneer and turn away—Isabel’s mask made him want to coax it off her. Odd, since he was a man who definitely preferred the easy route. And coaxing anything from a woman, no matter how sexy, always ended up with him wrapped in strings. And strings were never easy.
With that in mind, Dante wasn’t sure why he gave Isabel his most charming smile. The kind that usually made women melt and go all soft and agreeable. He leaned close, just enough make her eyes widen. Her perfume, the scent of spicy sensuality, swirled around him.
“I’d say we’re working together, if you know what I mean.” Grin in place, he watched for her reaction. Sweet thing like her, he figured she’d go all outraged and uptight.
Instead, her full lips twitched and Isabel’s eyes twinkled with humor. A soft gust of wind sent her curls bouncing around her shoulders.
“If you think I’m going to do you any good when it comes to hammering drywall, you’re going to be sadly disappointed,” she informed him. “I have many talents—” her pause sent a shaft of heat straight through Dante’s body as he imagined two or three he’d like to try out “—but construction isn’t on the list.”
“No?” He cast another look over her body, then met her eyes and winked. “What is on that list of yours?”
“You’d be surprised,” she said with a laugh that hinted at nerves. “For now, let’s focus on the renovations, hmm?”
Dante glanced around the tidy commercial neighborhood. Quaint and picturesque brick sidewalks flanked cute buildings. The whole street screamed uptight, upright and closed-minded. Dante was willing to admit he might be a little bitter, given his history here. In truth, he’d earned the wild reputation they tagged him with, but that still didn’t make this his kind of place. He wondered how soon he could finish and go home to the beach. He missed Southern California already.
“The details were a little vague when I got the call to come help. Just that you’d paid your money and had a deadline. Want to fill me in?”
“Sure. Your father’s already finished the basic renovations. The apartment upstairs is done and the storefront has been framed, but not completed. Before your father broke his foot, we’d discussed making a few changes to the initial plans.”
She reeled off a grocery list of jobs still to be done. Two refrigerators, the small kitchen, finish work, floor, bathroom tiles and fixtures. Among other things.
“Damn, that’s a lot of work. And you want it all done by the original date?” Dante paused, wondering how that was going to translate, time-wise. He wanted to be on the road by the end of the month. Could he finish this job in twenty-six days? “I’ve got a tight schedule myself. I hope you’re okay with me being here a lot.”
Her eyes had heated to a smoky haze. Dante didn’t know what had inspired the change, but the sexy look was doing wild things to his body. Watching those heavily fringed gray eyes blur made him want to see if he could make them go even darker with a little loving.
He’d bet his Harley he could.
“C’mon in, I’ll show you around,” was all she said. “After you’ve seen what’s what, I’ll get you the list.”
He gestured for her to go ahead. After a long look, she nodded and turned to lead the way up the wooden steps to the house. He noted the outside was in good shape. An ode to its time period, the gingerbread trim and spindled porch seemed to say “c’mon in and check us out.” He wondered what she’d be selling inside.
Dante slid his gaze down her body, letting himself linger on the way the silky fabric of the skirt molded itself to her legs and butt as she walked ahead of him up the stairs. She had amazingly long legs for a woman of less-than-average height.
Long enough to wrap around a man and hold tight. He’d imagine they were silky smooth, too. His fingers warmed at the thought of sliding them down her leg. He’d start at the calf, there just below her skirt. He’d smooth a path over the delicate curve of her ankle and down to her toes. Then he’d give himself the pleasure of a return trip, only this time he’d keep heading north.
“You do work in construction, right?” Isabel asked, pulling him out of his sexy little detour. She shot him a sidelong look as she opened one side of the double door. “I don’t remember your father saying anything about this being a family business. I’m not questioning your abilities or anything, but it’d definitely be a plus if you’re experienced enough to handle this job.”
“I don’t work for Luciano Construction, no.” According to his old man, Dante was the end of three generations of tradition. Not because he wasn’t any good at construction, he was making his living at it, after all. But because he sucked at taking orders. And Frank Luciano was big on orders. The old man was probably dancing in fury, cast and all, over the fact that his worthless son was bailing his ass out. If his wife had even told him. Sylvia Luciano was big on keeping the peace.
“Don’t worry about it, though. I’m sure I’m experienced enough to handle just about anything you come up with,” he assured her.
ISABEL’S PULSE SKIPPED at the image of how Dante could handle things. She’d bet he could handle them just fine—and then some.
It was all she could do not to pinch herself. Dante Luciano, bad boy extraordinaire and hunk of her fantasies…here, in front of her. It was almost too much to accept. Was it a dream? A hangover-induced birthday fantasy in 3-D? Her mind whirled with possibilities, but it felt real. Her body’s reaction was definitely real.
But she’d already done her idiot impression for Dante, ten years before. Holding tight to the image of her humiliation, she vowed to keep it cool this round. If fate had brought him back into her life, she’d make the most of it. Lucky for her, she’d never even registered on his radar, so he didn’t remember her.
Excited—if deluded—triumph surged through her. This was her chance to meet him on even ground. Or as close as possible, all things considered. Sure, she might peek at the man while he worked, but she’d be damned if she’d blush and stammer when caught. After all, she was all grown up now, hardly an inexperienced sixteen-year-old good-girl.
“Yeah, but I’m talking about construction,” she corrected, proud of her offhand tone. He grinned in response. “I don’t suppose you have references or anything?”
“No references, but I’ve never had a single complaint.”
She slid an appreciative look over his body and gave a little hum. Years of hot, wet dreams flashed through her mind, all starring the man in front of her. She was sure complaints were the last thing he heard