Again, I see amusement when my gaze flickers back up to his. He’s really enjoying me making a complete fool of myself.
Pulling my hand from his grasp, I clear my throat and look over at the house. “So, this is the main home on the estate?”
When Jake says nothing, I’m forced to glance back at him. He’s smiling at me, a devilishly wicked grin, as he wrings out his shirt. He’s chewing a toothpick again, reminding me of the way his mouth tasted all those years ago. “Yes, this is it. Would you like me to show you around?”
“That would be helpful, thank you,” I say stiffly, feeling mortified by my reaction to him.
He tips his head toward the house, his lips still curved in a cocky half smile. “Then come with me.”
As I follow along behind him, I wonder at his ability to make every look, every word, and every gesture seem so . . . so . . . suggestive. I have no doubt it’s intentional. He obviously knows I’m flustered and is exploiting that, which makes me mad. Unfortunately, that anger isn’t nearly enough to help me keep my head on straight, as evidenced by the fact that I watch his butt all the way on the walk to the house.
After mounting the steps, he turns at the front door to allow me to precede him. I jerk my eyes up, looking guiltily away from his backside, hoping he didn’t see what I was doing.
When he winks at me as I pass, I realize that he did. I feel my face go up in flames.
Oh my God! Just kill me now!
The house is quiet and dark, and the interior smells slightly sweet and homey. At first glance, it’s hard for me to fathom a guy like Jake Theopolis being raised here. He’s the type that I imagine landing on the scene with a loud bang, like life just spit him out, fully grown and wild as a buck. Never a sweet, innocent child.
Jake tips his head toward a sage green couch in the den. “Have a seat and I’ll get us a beer.”
“No, no thank you,” I rush to say as I make my way to the sofa. As I perch demurely on the edge of one cushion, I glance over at Jake. He’s eyeing me from the doorway leading into what I presume is the kitchen.
He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”
A few seconds later, he returns carrying a beer and a glass of some other kind of golden liquid. I look up at him, frowning as I take the proffered wineglass. “What’s this?”
“Peach wine,” he says, watching me intently. “Did you think I’d forgotten?”
My cheeks flame and I take a nervous sip of the sweet drink, any excuse to get my eyes off of his. “Thank you,” I mutter, avoiding his question.
After a tense moment, Jake plops down in an armchair across from me, crossing his legs to rest one ankle on his knee. He still hasn’t put on a shirt and, when I look up, all I can see is an ocean of flawless skin.
“Would you mind getting dressed so we can discuss what’s ahead for your family?”
With his golden eyes trained on mine, Jake rubs his hand across his bare chest. “Why? Does this bother you?”
I know he’s teasing me, but I’m trying to keep things professional. And I can’t do that with a gorgeous, half-naked man sitting a coffee table away.
“Not at all, but it’s hardly appropriate.”
One black brow shoots up. “Not at all, huh?”
I hold his gaze, hoping he doesn’t see the lie of my words. “Not. At. All.”
“Well, then I’ll just have to see what does bother a prim and proper woman such as yourself.”
The warning is not lost on me. However, my only option is to ignore it. I can’t very well do my job if I let Jake Theopolis strike me stupid and speechless every time he’s in the room.
Jake gets up to leave. With one foot on the bottom step, he turns toward me. “Are you ever gonna tell me your name? Or should I just call you ‘peaches’?”
“Laney,” I offer, adding another brick to the huge pile of my embarrassment. “Laney Holt.”
He nods slowly. “You from around here, Laney Holt? Or were you just working the kissing booth for pleasure that day?”
“Originally I’m from around here, yes.”
Jake starts to turn away again, but stops himself, his brow furrowing. “Holt. You’re not related to Graham Holt, are you?”
“Yes, I am. He’s my father. Why?”
Jake throws back his head and laughs heartily. “Oh, God! That’s perfect! The preacher’s daughter!”
It seems like he’s making fun of me, and I bristle. “And why is that perfect?” I ask sharply.
Jake lowers his head and looks me square in the eye. “Because I’ve got a thing for forbidden fruit, Laney Holt. Consider yourself warned.”
With another cocky grin tossed my way, Jake turns to mount the steps, leaving me feeling nothing short of breathless.
FOUR: Jake
The following afternoon, I’m driving home, thinking to myself that this unforeseen, undesirable incarceration in Greenfield on my family’s peach farm is looking decidedly more promising. Between the part-time job I just got and the tasty little piece that’ll be wandering around my house for the next couple of weeks, I’m feeling pretty optimistic about the time I’ll be spending here. Boredom and I don’t mix, but it’s looking like I won’t have to worry about that any time in the near future.
When I turn into the driveway, I see a speck of blue through the trees. That’s bound to be Laney. She said she’d see me today, but she didn’t say when. I just assumed she’d call. Luckily, hers is the kind of unexpected visit I could get used to.
As the lane widens just in front of the house, I see Laney marching angrily toward her car. I steer the Jeep toward the garage and cut the engine, hopping out before she can leave.
“Where you off to?” I ask as I approach.
She doesn’t answer, just yanks on the car door handle. It doesn’t open on the first try, which seems to make her that much madder.
“Hey,” I say, reaching out to touch her arm and turn her toward me.
She whirls to face me, her eyes flashing furiously. “Don’t touch me!”
I hold up both hands in surrender and take a step back. “What the hell is the matter with you?”
I’m not irritated, just curious. It’s a simple question, but she gets all huffy. Which totally turns me on.
Laney takes a deep breath and pokes me in the chest with one finger. “Listen here, Mr. Theopolis, I didn’t come here to be trifled with. I’m here to do a job, but if you refuse to show me the most basic respect and common decency, I’ll be more than happy to turn your case over to another paralegal.”