He snorted. “Please. As if I’d know what to do with a butler. It does, however, come with an awesome man cave.”
“I can only imagine. Maybe I should have showered at my condo. I feel guilty tracking dirt inside.”
“Em, I’m a contractor. I’m always dirty. Nothing wrong with a bit of sweat and grit under your nails.” He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth, groaning as he tangled his fingers in her short hair. “You taste so good, even filthy.”
“Um, your neighbor is watching.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “That’s Mrs. Sanders. She’s a shameless curtain-twitcher and likes to scowl from her back window when the boys and I have a beer on the deck in the summer.”
“Poor thing. Maybe she’s angling for an invitation.”
“Right.” As he opened his car door, he waved. “Mrs. Sanders. You look nice today. Your pedal pushers are a lovely shade of orange.”
Mrs. Sanders mumbled something and retreated into her open garage.
Emily got out of the car and giggled. “I’m pretty sure that lady is running my photo through some database to see if I have enough money to step foot in The Kingsway.”
He looped an arm around her shoulders. “Stick with me, sweetheart. I’m sure my presence will elevate you in the eyes of others.”
As he unlocked his door, she elbowed him in the gut. He opened the door for her and slapped her ass in retaliation as she squeezed in front of him.
Emily made a show of wiping her shoes, at least five times each, and removed them by the door. Michael walked in wearing his work boots, only kicking them off after he realized he’d tracked in some mud. She’d been expecting Martha Stewart-esque interiors but the main floor felt cozy despite its grandiose dimensions. Warm colors and lots of dark wood gave it an intimate feel. That and the humungous fireplace she spotted in the living room. “It’s beautiful. I almost don’t know what to say.”
“Come in. Let me show you around.” He led her over to the fireplace and Emily ran her hand over the stonework, the same variety that comprised the exterior of the house. “Would you believe it was a fixer-upper when I bought it?”
“No way. It’s a show home.”
“Not at first. When I saw it initially, I remember being sad because it seemed neglected. Unappreciated. Great features that no one seemed to recognize.” Michael smoothed his hand over her lower back. “Like a beautiful woman who’s made to feel inferior.”
Kind of how Trent made Emily feel. “The former owners didn’t take care of it?”
“Not that I could see. Different priorities for different people, I guess. By the time the house went on sale, they were already elderly so I don’t imagine they were able to fix anything themselves. When I saw it the first time, I thought I’d wandered into the Brady Bunch house. I had to put a lot of muscle into it, a lot of time and love.” He stood in the middle of the room and pointed out various features. “The wood beams had to be stripped and refinished and all the moldings and doors needed to be replaced. I won’t even tell you what the bathrooms looked like, other than saying the general theme of the house was ‘overripe avocado.’”
“It must have been a big job.”
“The kitchen was the hardest part.” He led her down a tidy hallway toward the kitchen in back. “It had to be gutted. I renovated everything from top to bottom.”
Emily ran a hand over the new black granite counter, almost sighing when she spotted the state-of-the-art stainless appliances. It was still very much a man’s kitchen, decorated in modern neutral tones. Not a single flower or frill decorated the place, but everything was clean and fresh. Michael cared for it, that was clear. “You put in all this cabinetry, all these fixtures, yourself?”
“My brothers helped. It’s been a labor of love but also a place for us to experiment.” His face reddened. “I wanted to make a home suitable for a family. The sort of place anyone would want to return to at the end of a hard day.”
A sanctuary. The house oozed warmth and good vibes. If Emily lived there, she might add a couple of feminine touches, maybe a splash of bright color here or there, but the room was no less beautiful in her eyes. She could just imagine Michael holding court in the kitchen during a party, handing out beers and bowls of chips. She joined him in the middle of the room and wrapped her arms around his waist. “It’s gorgeous. You should be proud.”
He cupped both her cheeks and nibbled her bottom lip. “You’re gorgeous.”
She leaned into his kiss, relishing the salty tang of his skin. He was right. Nothing wrong with a little bit of healthy sweat.
He ended their kiss, his chest reverberating with frustrated desire. “Maybe we could do the rest of the tour later.”
Emily began to unbutton her shirt. “I think I’m too dirty to walk around such a nice house anyway.”
“Definitely too dirty.” Michael bent down and scooped her up, throwing her over his shoulder.
She let out a whoop, temporarily winded. “You did not just throw me over your shoulder like a caveman.”
“Seems I did.” He ran his hand over her ass and everything in her tightened in need. As he headed toward the stairs in the hallway, his hand grazed the area between her legs. “I’ll have to bathe you myself. I’m not sure I can trust you to do a good enough job. You might miss a spot, but I won’t.”
He walked upstairs and down the hallway, seemingly unbothered by her weight over his shoulder. Using his foot to gently kick aside the bathroom door, he entered. When he set her down, Emily gasped.
