Free Sweet Surprise by Candis Terry Page B

pay for his services without actually taking a cent.
    “I’m willing to take it out in trade,” he said.
    Her blue eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
    “Cupcakes.” He couldn’t help but grin. The look on her face was priceless. “And shame on you for what you thought I meant.”
    She blushed about three adorable shades of pink, and he almost felt bad for teasing her. Luckily, in the short time he’d known her, she’d proven herself to be a pretty good sport.
    “I’m sorry.” She brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I just don’t know you well enough to know when you’re kidding.”
    “Most of the time I’m pretty serious.” He stepped closer and allowed himself to inhale her sweet scent, even as he admonished himself for doing so. “I promise in the future to make it apparent when I’m not.”
    She looked up at him, and the tip of her tongue swept her luscious bottom lip. He nearly groaned with the desire to taste her. Strike that. He didn’t just want a taste. He wanted to devour her from head to toe in a slow, seductive way neither of them would ever forget.
    “This . . .” He pointed to himself. “Is me being serious. How about you tell me what you’ve got planned here, so we can get to work. The sooner we get things done, the sooner you can open your shop.”
    “I am not paying you in cupcakes. There’s too much to do, and I’d never be able to fulfill my debt.”
    “No worries. We’ll figure out payment later.”
    As they’d done before, her eyes searched his face. He appreciated that she was cautious. The careful consideration gave them something in common. And while he knew what caused him to be on guard, he had to wonder what had happened to put her in that same rickety boat.
    “So you’re agreeing to let me pay you?”
    “I’m agreeing to whatever it is that will let me get to work,” he said. But what he meant was, he’d agree to whatever was necessary so he could be done and gone. The faster he got away from her, the better.
    His sanity depended on it.

 
    Chapter 5
    T he hours crawled by as they worked side by side. Mainly because Fiona had a hard time keeping her mind on her project. Each time she dipped her roller in the paint and lifted it to the wall, she’d tell herself “Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.”
    A litany that led to less than appropriate thoughts.
    And then, without any effort at all, her eyes would inadvertently find Mike bent over a sheet of wood with the white cotton T-shirt stretched tight across his broad shoulders and flexed biceps, and his 501’s cupping his perfectly divine posterior. For most of the afternoon, her body hummed with awareness louder than his damned miter saw.
    As if she’d called his name, he looked up, and their eyes met. For a long, hot moment, they stayed connected, and Fiona could feel the impact of his dark allure down from her head to her toes and all parts in between.
    Because she couldn’t take the heat, she got out of the kitchen and into her rental car. Picking up Izzy from day care was not only a necessity; it was a necessary diversion. It was also a cowardly exit, but Fiona didn’t care. Maintaining sanity for the duration of their working together was vital. And she could hardly accomplish that feat if she were drooling like a St. Bernard.
    When she returned about an hour later after chatting some more with Andi, she’d expected Mike to be long gone. But he was still there. Still nailing stuff together. Still looking hotter than a man had a right to.
    Izzy skipped inside the shop as Fiona dropped her keys in her purse. “I thought you’d be gone.”
    He looked up, pushed the protective glasses up on his head, and set down his electric drill. “Wishful thinking?”
    “Not at all,” she lied, tossing her bag on the counter. “It’s your day off from the fire station. Don’t you have a date or something fun you want to do?”
    “No date. And believe it or not, this is relaxing for me.”
    Izzy worked