Three
Deacon watched her waver. She wanted him but didn’t like the fact. Yeah? Well neither did he. The woman made himcrave. Deacon knew desire. He liked sex, loved getting off. Who didn’t? But Solene had him aching for more. What that was, he couldn’t say. He just knew being around her, with her, tempted him to be closer. Toknowher in any way he could.
“Fine. An answer for an answer, but that applies to you too. No lying,” she said, putting on her brave face.
“Agreed. Well? Why don’t you like your job?”
“It’s not that I hate it or anything.” She sighed. “I came to Bainbridge after a bad situation, and I needed something to do. I was grabbing a coffee one day when I overheard the previous owner complaining about the job. She had to quit, and she knew there would be a lack of daycare for a lot of local kids. I stepped in to help. Seeing the potential profit didn’t hurt either. I saw immediately that changes needed to be made. So, I got the job done. But…”
She ran a hand over her hair, and he wished she’d take the damn band out, to let him see that waterfall of gold framing her face, over her milky shoulders. He shifted, grateful for the kitchen island that hid his erection. Fuck, but he wanted her in the worst way.
“But?” he prodded.
“But it was more about the challenge than the children. That sounds horrible. I don’t mean it to be. I love those kids, and I take care of them better than I do myself. But I’m not naturally maternal.”
“Not true.” He’d seen the way she’d handled Fiona and the brawling toddlers. With care and exasperated tenderness.
“I take good care of them, but Ash Daycare isn’t my dream job. I like turning upside down businesses into successes. I like making a go of things.”
“Nice.”
“So yeah, I’m thinking of keeping the business but hiring a manager instead of doing it myself. I might get into something else. I don’t know. Maybe a restaurant or coffee shop. I keep leaning that way.”
“I could help you with a menu,” he teased. “One that serves healthy choices.”
“Kale is a four-letter word.”
He laughed, loving the sparkle in her beautiful eyes. “Not the way I make it.”
“Oh, come on, Deacon. What’s your beef with potato chips and Twinkies?”
He shuddered. “How the hell are you so in shape with your crappy diet?”
“Good genes and too many years of being forced to be underweight, that’s how.”
“You talk a big game, but I’ve seen you eat pretty healthy. The Ho Hos have to go, though.”
She smirked. “No way. My kitchen, my bills, my Ho Hos.”
“And that brings me to my second question. So, lady with an appetite. Why do you hate men?”
“Huh? Since when does eating cakes equate to hating men?”
“Actually…” he paused, a bad joke about eating him was more than he could handle at present. Just the thought of Solene’s mouth on any part of him made it difficult to breathe.
“I’m not telling you jack, Shaw. It’s your turn to answer a question or two. How did you get into doing what you do?”
A good enough distraction, he supposed. “I was recruited at a young age, had a thing for melee weapons. You know, daggers, clubs, batons. I was especially fond of throwing knives.” He smiled. “And the rest is history.”
“I don’t think so.” The electric kettle dinged, and she poured two mugs of tea. That she prepared it just the way he liked it gave him the warm and fuzzies. A domestic scene, a man and woman sharing an evening cup of tea. When she handed it to him, their eyes met, and her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. Her lips parted, and he had to look away.
He stifled a groan, took a sip and nearly burned his tongue. “Hot,” he rasped.
“Are you trying to hurt yourself?” She rolled her eyes. “Now stop stalling. I want to know how a man becomes an assassin.”
He cleared his throat. “We prefer the term contractor. Even agentworks. Makes it less sticky if the police come asking questions, so you don’t accidentally slip and call me something that implies I’m involved in anything illegal.”
“Accidentally slip? Problem you once had with an old girlfriend?” she teased.
