Wild For You. Debbi Rawlins

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      It felt good to get her circulation going, though. The autumn day had started off mildly enough, but the puddle had been cold, and the brisk wind sweeping off the foothills made her teeth chatter.

      He held the door open and gestured her inside. She stopped on the thick woven floor mat and tried to scrape off her muddy right shoe, wishing she’d worn her usual Nikes. The heel caught in the roping. A discreet jerk didn’t help. Stooping or bending over wasn’t going to be fun. Or easy.

      “Hold on a minute.” Spencer crouched behind her and lifted her foot out of the shoe, then freed the heel. “You want to leave these off for now?”

      “Yes,” she said, feeling like a five-year-old, bracing her hands against the door frame and still clutching the folder. It not only held the contract but Lila’s list. “Thank you.”

      Unexpectedly, he wrapped his fingers around her other ankle, and a jolt of heat shot up her leg. For a big guy with big hands, he had a gentle touch. She almost didn’t notice when his palm slid partway up her calf as he removed her other shoe.

      “Don’t worry about the floor,” he said, and she realized he was waiting for her to move forward. “It’s just the mudroom.”

      “Oh.” She glanced at the parkas and jackets hanging on hooks, at the cubbyholes filled with heavy gloves. “I’ve never seen a mudroom before.”

      “On second thought, you’d better use this.” Rising, he grabbed a towel hanging on the side of a deep utility sink. “I don’t care about the floor, but you could slip.”

      He threw the towel on the tiles in front of her, his hand poised near her elbow, ready to catch her if she stumbled. His brown hair was a bit longer than last time but still pretty short. It was an expensive cut, not something a regular barber would do.

      “Don’t you have a rag? I don’t want to stain your towel.”

      “That is a rag. Go ahead.”

      Probably a good thing he never smiled. Who knew what that would do to her? Normally, she wasn’t a clumsy person. “I’m sure some of the homes in California have mudrooms, but not in the area where I grew up,” she said, wiping the bottom of her feet on the rag. “Most people think of LA or Hollywood, but there are lots of ranches in the southern part of the state.”

      He looked as though he couldn’t be less interested in her rambling. “Right through that door is the laundry room.”

      The nervous chatter wasn’t like her. Not even around good-looking guys. And then it hit her. “I can’t wash my clothes.” She turned to look at him. “I have nothing to wear in the meantime.”

      Spencer ran his gaze down her body. “I’ll find something for you.”

      “Oh, no, that’s—” Erin stopped herself from rejecting his offer. Why give up the extra time to convince him to sign the contract? She let out a breath. “That would be great.”

      He placed her heels in the sink, managing to look amused without even a hint of a smile, and gestured for her to keep moving.

      Sunlight flooded in through a window in the laundry room. The washer and dryer both looked new and high-end. Above them was a row of dark wood custom cabinets. The room was narrow but well organized, with lots of shelves and hooks and hangers on the opposite wall.

      “Come with me,” he said, walking past her. “You can change in the bathroom while I get something for you to wear.”

      They walked into a large airy kitchen with gleaming wood floors and stainless steel appliances. The butcher-block island in the middle was the only thing that looked old.

      “Is the house new?” she asked, skimming a hand over the smooth countertop. It wasn’t granite but something similar.

      “No, but I had some work done. There’s the bathroom.” He nodded at a door to their left and then headed for the staircase.

      She hoped he’d give her a tour later. The place looked so much more interesting than it had from the outside. The open floor plan couldn’t be part of the original layout, nor the oversize windows across the back that allowed a stunning view of the Rockies. Tastefully decorated in earth tones, it was nothing like the man cave she might’ve envisioned had she stopped to think about it.

      There was some Western artwork on one wall and three framed pictures sitting on the mantel that she was dying to get a look at. But that could wait. She didn’t want him to catch her snooping.

      Just after she’d stripped off the skirt and was deciding on her top, which had only a few smudges, she heard the knock at the door. She opened it a little and peeked out. He held up a robe. Not one that belonged to him. It was light pink and on the small side.

      “Your wife’s?’ she asked, startled at the thought.

      “It’s my mom’s. She forgot it when she visited. She won’t mind.”

      Well, hell... That didn’t tell her anything. “Are you married?”

      “No.”

      “Good.” Erin almost choked on the word. She stared at Spencer, praying there was a chance she hadn’t actually said it out loud.

      His brows had risen slightly. “You want the robe or not?”

      She grabbed it and shut the door.

      Well, at least he wasn’t laughing. Anyway, good could mean lots of things.

      She finished undressing while keeping her eyes on the folder. All she needed to worry about was getting him to give his permission to film on his land. It was easy money, for heaven’s sake. The crew would leave his property just as they found it, if not in even better condition.

      By the time she’d slipped into the robe and made necessary adjustments so her bra wouldn’t show, she could smell coffee. Spencer clearly liked his brew strong.

      He was standing at the kitchen sink with his back to her, and she took advantage of the moment to study his long denim-clad legs and narrow hips. Great butt, good enough to be a body double...although she’d have to see him naked to know for sure.

      He turned suddenly, as if he’d sensed her watching him. His gaze took in the robe, the exposed lower half of her calves and bare feet, before motioning with his chin. “You know where the laundry room is.”

      “Yep. Thanks.”

      Erin had been to so many Laundromats in her twenty-eight years that she thought she’d used every model and brand of washing machine on the market.

      She was so wrong.

      Studying the list of different cycles was getting her more excited than was probably healthy. But she didn’t care, because this baby could do everything but make a bed. And she hadn’t even looked at the dryer yet.

      “Is there a problem?”

      At the sound of Spencer’s voice, she glanced at him standing in the doorway, but only briefly before СКАЧАТЬ