Then again, perhaps it was his fault she was so clumsy.
Mason clicked the key fob for his Camaro and reached for the handle of the passenger side, glad he’d stopped and gotten a car wash earlier. He loved impressing women with the sleek black finish. He was proud of his car and women always swooned when they saw it.
But not this woman. She didn’t say a word. She bent down and slipped inside as gracefully as possible in her short dress. When she was settled inside, he shut the door and rounded the rear, wishing he’d been short enough to see between her legs as she’d entered. The only glimpse he’d had was in shadows.
Dude. Hands off, remember?
Mason took a deep breath as he entered the driver’s side and started the engine. He turned toward Jenna as he pulled from the lot. “So, Jenna, what do you do when you aren’t in charge of poorly constructed ribbon bouquets?”
She smiled at him with a twinkle in her eye as though she knew a secret. “Actually, I construct them for a living. Glad to know my hard work is appreciated.”
Mason swallowed his tongue. “You what? You make floral arrangements out of bows for a day job?”
She giggled, a sweet tinkle that made his dick harder. He fought not to adjust himself in the cramped space. Had the interior of the car gotten smaller?
“I’m a florist. So no, not just ribbons. I design arrangements though, usually with actual clipped flowers. I’ll be doing the wedding tomorrow if you want to think up something snide to say before you get there.” She winked at him, clearly proud of herself for making him squirm.
He growled. Damnit.
“What do you do, when you aren’t busy gloating about your perfect body and your broad shoulders?” she added.
“Touché.” He chuckled. “That’s fair. I’m an accountant. I work for the same firm as Rafe.”
“Ah, so a numbers guy. Do you keep a spreadsheet for every woman you manage to lure with your good looks and fancy car?”
“Oh, so you
did
notice my chick-magnet car.” He loved this woman. She was sexy, smoldering hot,
and
could hold her own in a battle of words. Though those first two might have been the same thing…
“Eh, I’m not much of a car girl, but I can tell
you
love it.”
“How’s that?” He lifted a brow at her and glanced her way. She sat prim and perfect. Her knees squeezed together, and her hands folded in her lap. She’d regained some of her composure since earlier.
“It’s in pristine condition. No trash. Freshly washed. Great sound system. You like the seventies and eighties, huh?”
Oh, the music. He reached to turn it down a bit. “Yeah, Rush is my favorite.”
“So how does a guy who works with numbers all day get so buff?”
Mason inhaled, his chest puffing up at her comment. She hadn’t overlooked a single characteristic about him that normally left women swooning. She just chose to pretend she was unaffected. “I work out. A lot.”
More than you can imagine
.
When Rafe had said to keep his hands to himself, Mason was pretty sure he also meant for him to keep his mouth shut about a lot of things.
“Really? Huh. Couldn’t tell.” Oh, she was all spit and vinegar.
“What about you? What do you do when you aren’t lining up roses?”
“Lining up roses?” She laughed again. “You are so good with words.”
You have no idea. My words can make you cream in your panties if I so choose
.
“I read. I jog. Hang with friends. I work a lot of hours.” She looked out the window.
By her body language he knew she was leaving out several parts of her life—intentionally.
What are you hiding, Ms. Jenna the rose girl?
Whatever it was, it couldn’t be as big as his own personal secrets. He was not one who should judge.
Jenna reached for her purse on the floor and rummaged around inside until she produced a hair clip. She lifted both arms and pulled her long straight locks back, twisting the glossy strands into a knot at the back of her head.
“Don’t.” The word slipped out before he could stop it.
She froze, the clip between her teeth, and turned to look at him.
He couldn’t help it. If he was going to spend the evening with her, he wanted to at least have the pleasure of admiring her silky black hair. The librarian look wasn’t going to do it for him. “I like it down,” he muttered. “It’s beautiful.” As he pulled to a stop at a red light, he turned and reached for her wrist, tugging her hand down. “Leave it?”
He was so out of his league here. It had been years since he’d entertained a woman for thirty minutes who didn’t know who and what he was. His words tumbled out haphazardly under the stress.
Women didn’t usually ignore his demands, but this particular woman didn’t know that.
The look she gave him made his vision blur for a moment. She took a deep breath, and the clip fell from her lips to her lap. Her right arm still held her hair in the air, but it slowly slipped between her fingers and cascaded back around her shoulders.
Mason ran his hand through the locks and leaned in to smell the scent of her shampoo. He closed his eyes and learned her scent, feminine, floral of course.
Someone honked and he jerked his gaze back to the front and grabbed the steering wheel. He hit the gas a bit too hard and they lurched forward.
Jenna didn’t comment. She lowered her arm and stuffed the clip back in her purse. She turned her gaze to look out the passenger window again. He saw her chest heaving with breaths out of his peripheral vision.
Fuck Rafe and his demands. There was no way in hell he could let this woman go. He’d had good intentions, but for Christ’s sake she was so damn malleable he wanted to pull over and see what else he could command her to do.
Instead, Mason gripped the wheel harder and concentrated on driving. He might not be able to keep any promise about leaving Jenna alone, but he could at least get her from point A to point B without mauling her in the car. Later…