Messing with Mac. Jill Shalvis

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      But what did she care how much money he lost in wages unearned? Mac wasn’t exactly sure what had happened yesterday, why she’d momentarily drawn him, given who and what she was—that being a woman too close to Ariel’s type to make him comfortable. But whatever it was, whatever little spark or electrical current of attraction he’d felt in spite of himself, he wouldn’t feel again.

      She wore a pair of pale blue capris with a matching short, little cropped jacket, looking like she should be getting ready to walk down the runway instead of standing on the step of her ugly building.

      Her hair was pulled back in a careful twist and she wore more of that peach lip-gloss from yesterday.

      She was a long, cool drink of water, and even knowing it, even having prepared himself to see her again, he was suddenly dying of thirst, and couldn’t seem to tear his eyes off her.

      When she saw him, she stopped talking, rubbing her lips together in a little gesture that signified either nerves or arousal. Either way, awareness shot straight to his groin.

      So much for ignoring her. “Why are you here?” he asked.

      She lifted a brow, assuring him and everyone around that she considered him a Neanderthal for asking such a question. And okay, yes, maybe his tone had been a bit brusque. After all, she did own the place. But there was some inexplicable…thing going on between the two of them, some amazing thing that reminded him of…a shark bite. Painful, and probably lethal.

      But they’d signed a contact, he and she. Every possible little detail had been decided on, down to the last shade of paint on the walls. Her presence here wasn’t required, and in fact, he knew the ratio of work done today would be directly related to how far away she was.

      The further the better. “You agreed to move out for the duration of the restoration,” he reminded her.

      “I agreed to make sure there were no tenants during the duration. Suzanne and Nicole are gone.”

      “But you’re not.”

      “I’m not a tenant.”

      Shaking his head, he took the last step that put him on even ground with her. Mostly he towered over everyone around him, and knowing it, he usually made a conscious effort not to use his size as an intimidation. But right now he wasn’t thinking intimidation so much as self-preservation. He wanted this job. He needed this job. It was the first thing he’d cared about in far too long. And in a way he was just beginning to understand, he needed to lose himself in the pure joy of the work itself, something he couldn’t do with her parading around all damn day.

      “You can’t mean to be here while we work.”

      She lifted that chin, eyes flashing. “I’ll do as I please.”

      Damn. She did, she meant to be here while they worked. Because she didn’t trust him, or because she wanted to drive him crazy every step of the way?

      “Why?”

      “I won’t be in your way,” she said in lieu of a real answer.

      In his experience, clients couldn’t help but be in the way, always wanting to change the logical order of things, waiting until paint was on the walls or tile on the floor before deciding the color was off, or the brand not quite right. And he had the Town Council and historical society to impress on this one. “Look, Princess—”

      “My name,” she said, still smiling that cool smile as she carefully shifted the vase from one hand to the other in a way that suggested she was considering smashing it over his head, “is not ‘Princess.”’

      He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not trying to be a hard-ass here, it’s just that we’d all be better off if you’d just let us do our jobs.”

      “You are a hard-ass, it’s one of the reasons I hired you,” she said, surprising him. “And I think you could try trusting me a little. I’m not going to bog you down.”

      Mac didn’t do trust, and even if he did, he’d be crazy to give in to a woman quite used to crooking her little finger and having the entire male population fall over its own feet to please her.

      “I’m not,” she repeated, a little softer now, watching him with those clear, clear eyes that weren’t going to give an inch.

      He ran his hands over his face, put them on his hips and stared at her, but she was still just waiting with what he figured was the patience of a cobra. “Okay, whatever.”

      She was wise enough to keep her smile to herself but he saw the triumph in her eyes, the eyes that only yesterday had turned him on.

      Still turned him on.

      “You’ll finish the demo downstairs this week?” she asked.

      “And upstairs.”

      “Oh.” Now something else flickered in her gaze. “Is it really necessary to push your men like that?”

      “Like…what?”

      “Well, I would think demolishing just the downstairs would be enough for the next week. In any case, it’s going to be awfully hot.”

      “We’re doing both up and down this week,” he said firmly.

      “Hmm.”

      The sound that escaped her throat suggested he was not only a hard-ass but a brutal boss to his crew. “Demolition is back-breaking, hot, filthy work,” he explained, trying not to resent having to do so.

      “I realize that.”

      “Then you also realize we’re far better off digging in and getting it over with quick as possible.”

      “Okay…well, maybe you guys can start and complete the entire renovation downstairs before moving to the next floor.”

      “No. Not cost-effective.”

      “Hmm,” she said again doubtfully, and he narrowed his eyes. Why didn’t she want them upstairs this week? He would have pushed for answers but each of his crew’s heads were whipping back and forth between the two of them as if they were watching a tennis match.

      He was not going to make a scene. The woman wanted to breathe down his neck all day long? Fine. Today was going to be particularly brutal. By the end of it, her hair would be in her face, her creamy skin smeared with dirt and no way was that million dollar linen going to make it through unscathed.

      She’d be, at the very least, hot, sweaty and rumpled, and he could only hope he would get that insane urge to see it right out of his system.

      “Let’s move it,” he said to his crew, and they scattered.

      3

      FOR SEVERAL DAYS, Taylor kept close tabs on the demolition, from a safe distance of course. She wasn’t stupid enough to rile the beast any further, though she had to admit, she had been able to rile him with little to no effort so far.

      She supposed that meant he felt СКАЧАТЬ