Free A Place to Call Home by Christina James

pulled away.
     
    She smiled while butterflies swarmed in her belly. “I think you’ve done enough for me.”
     
    “Give me your cell number,” he demanded, entering it into his cell when she recited it. “Like I said, I’ll give you a ride to pick it up.”
     
    Folding her arms, she studied him. “You’re very pushy, you know?”
     
    He grinned and strode toward his truck, his muscular butt displayed nicely in his worn jeans.
     
    “Mac?”
     
    He faced her and grinned. One look at him and her breath caught. Maybe it was a combination of exhaustion and his constant attentions, but she couldn’t remember a time ever being so in tune to a man’s presence.
     
    “I don’t need to check any references. You’ve more than proved yourself worthy of the job. It’s yours.”
     
    He hesitated before he spoke. “Fine. I’ll be your contractor as long as you’re not here while I’m working.”
     
    That was rude. “Why not? I won’t get in the way.”
     
    “Like hell. You’d be a distraction, Hannah.”
     
    “How?” she demanded, hands on her hips where Mac’s T-shirt formed a knot.
     
    His gaze raked her body from toes to head before stopping at her face. “Sexy body. Nice eyes. Great smile. If I had to watch you waltz around in front of me all day I couldn’t promise much would get done other than me having a constant hard-on.”
     
    She closed the distance between them and ran a finger along his jaw. The freshly shaven skin invited her kisses, but she willed herself to behave. For now. “Well, that works two ways. I’ll have to watch you play with tools all day.”
     
    He cleared his throat, his eyes lighting with a sexy gleam loaded with promises of temptation and fulfillment. “This could be a lot of fun.”
     
    “I’m hoping so.”
     
    § § § §
     
    The morning flew by quickly. Hannah spent most of it setting up her bedroom and unpacking her clothes. The tiny apartment needed to be gutted and remodeled like the rest of the house and not one appliance had been updated. The mildew stench had been unbearable until Hannah had bleached and scrubbed every surface. Now the place smelled like a toxic cloud. But at least now it shone clean, free of dust and germs, and her things could be unpacked without getting ruined.
     
    She lugged six large trash bags down to the backyard, sweat covering her skin in the hot late morning summer sun. Outside she breathed deeply, not caring how hot and humid the air hung. Anything felt better than smelling bleach. As she walked through the overgrowth, Hannah noticed that the gardens had been neglected like the house. Bushes not pruned, trees roots not mulched, roses not pruned or weeded. But visions danced in her head of what the space could become with a little TLC. She’d ask Mac about laying a brick patio out here, so in the cooler months, her customers could enjoy dining outside.
     
    When her phone rang, she ran around the kitchen searching for the chime, rummaging through the cluttered countertop to find it. She answered breathless.
     
    “Panting for me already?” Mac teased.
     
    “Of course. I like your tools.”
     
    He laughed, the familiar deep rumble echoing over the line. “Join me for lunch before we pick up your car.”
     
    She could listen to that Southern drawl all day and it’d still sound sexy.
     
    Clearing her throat, she spoke softly. “No, I can’t, but thanks. I’m filthy. I’ve been cleaning all morning.”
     
    “Well, I’m heading over to you in half an hour, so get ready.”
     
    “I said I can’t,” she insisted. Was the man thickheaded?
     
    “You still need to pick up your car and I need to eat. So I’ll be there in thirty minutes, and you can either eat lunch with me, or watch me eat. I don’t care. Don’t matter none to me either way. Just be ready.”
     
    The phone went dead.
     
    Thirty minutes. She looked in the mirror, dirty face, sweaty skin, dusty clothes. How could he expect her to be ready in