Free Caught Up in the Touch by Laura Trentham Page A

prickling nape. “Um … what?”
    He stood and wiped his hands and face on a blue rag. “Why’s your daddy got such a hard-on to hire me?”
    Her gaze dropped to his crotch, and she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. Get your head back in the game, her pantsuit-wearing conscience demanded. She hummed to buy time to get her thoughts straightened out. “Your reputation, I suppose. Once I get your agreement, we can amend the contract with the details. What do you say?”
    She stuck her hand out for a shake, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight tremble. His face was thoughtful and serious. She swallowed. Something flared in her chest when his hand inched toward hers, but instead of clasping her hand in a firm manly shake, he grasped her fingers and pulled her hand up, toward his mouth. Shock left her hand pliable in his. He brushed his lips across the back and let go.
    “I haven’t made up my mind yet, Jessie.”
    She curled her fingers in and cradled her hand against her chest like his kiss was something precious. No wonder Scarlett O’Hara had fallen hard for Rhett Butler.
    He pushed the ATV backward, out of the garage. A duffle bag and a shotgun were bungee-tied on the back rack. “I never imagined my reputation would bring me an insane job offer.”
    Stepping out of the way, she stared at his biceps, expecting the fabric to rip into Hulk-like shreds. Her butt hit the lowered tailgate of his truck, leaving her half-sitting on the edge, her purse slipping off her shoulder. He pulled the garage door down, his back flexing under the T-shirt. She wanted to run her hands over the bulges of muscle.
    She’d never experienced the kind of mind-numbing lust Logan Wilde inspired. A flash of him on the cover of Guns and Ammo in only a pair of underwear distracted her. Did Guns and Ammo do Mountain Man beefcake?
    Her mind leapt down another tangential, thorny path. What did he look like naked? Probably even better than he did clothed. She shaded her eyes with one of her hands as if he could divine the inappropriate, unprofessional thoughts traipsing around in her head.
    The machine growled to life with a shudder and a puff of smoke. He threw a leg over and adjusted some knobs. Over the noise, he yelled, “We can discuss it when I get back. How about dinner Wednesday night?”
    Wednesday? Three days? No way could she call her father back and tell him that Logan had put her off … again. Eric and his Porsche would be pulling into Falcon by then.
    “With the money we’re offering, you could get a Porsche or a Corvette or—” Her mind blanked on the names of expensive cars. She pushed off the tailgate and wrapped her hand around his forearm. The vibrations of the ATV cascaded up her arm.
    “Anything you want.” She added in a hoarse voice, not sure he even heard.
    He flashed her a grin, his gaze skimming down her body and away. “You don’t mean that, darlin’. Let’s talk Wednesday.”
    He revved the engine, the noise scattering a group of birds off the garage roof. The ATV rolled forward, pulling his arm from her hand. If she let him get away, she might as well kiss the CFO job good-bye. Without thinking about anything but the next second in time, she hopped behind him, sidesaddle, and grabbed the metal rack on the back, careful to avoid the barrel of the gun.
    He hit the brakes, throwing her forward into his broad, sun-heated back. He half-turned, his face a mask of disbelief. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
    “You’re not blowing me off.”
    “I’m heading into those woods”—he pointed as if it needed clarification—“and not coming out until Wednesday morning. You are not prepared. You’re in three-inch heels, for God’s sake.”
    If he intended to scare her, it worked. Just a little. From here, the woods seemed an endless, unbroken ocean of brambles, wild animals, and dirt. “I’m tough.”
    He shook his head and laughed a “you are insane” kind of laugh. “Hop off. Last