“Go ahead, Shea,” says Emma, falling into a chair and snatching up a pair of chopsticks. “Gush about the table.”
“It’sperfectfor this space.” The praise bursts out of me. “The minimalist pedestal. The tambour paneling. It complements the cabinetry without being too matchy.”
“Thanks,” Jason says with a wry smile, tipping a bottle of beer to his mouth, his throat muscles rippling with a swallow. Now I’m not sure where to look. The gorgeous table or his thick Adam’s apple, the black and gray stubble that adorns it. “I’ll let the carpenter know you approve.”
“You’rethe carpenter, Dad,” Emma snorts.
I take a seat at the table, my knees wobbly. “You are?”
He nods, taking a spot to my right. “I’ve got a workshop out back.”
Concentrate on the sushi.Stop staring at his hands and imagining how they look handling wood. They’re probably calloused and rough. Scarred. Not designed to touch skin as soft as mine, right? Yet the feel of those experienced palms is all I crave suddenly.
“You made the furniture. Did you have someone help you design the space?” I ask.
Jason shakes his head. “No, that’s a little fussy for me. I just bought what I liked.” He pauses for a second, then leans forward on his elbows, beer cradled between those two big bear hands. “But as the company expands, I’m starting to consider the possibility of bringing designers on board. Make it more of a full-service deal.”
I try to imagine a future where I work for this man, interior designing the homes he builds. Spending all that time with him. Taking directions. Having him sign my paycheck…
Abruptly, I stop picturing that future when my sex starts a slow squeeze, leaving moisture in my panties. My breath is coming too quickly for this casual meal with my friend and herfather. Why am I getting so overwrought at the idea of Jason being the boss of me?
“That’s a great idea, Dad. But if you hire anyone but us, we’ll have to kill you.”
He laughs. It’s a deep, smoky sound that stiffens my nipples.At the dinner table.
“That would be nice,” Jason says, nodding at his daughter. But he’s looking at me as he takes a long draw from his beer. “Eat, Shea,” he says, a touch sternly.
Until he gives that command, I don’t realize my dragon roll is sitting in front of me, untouched. A sort of exhilaration rolls through me when Jason demands I start eating. As if he pressed a button, I pick up my chopsticks and take a bite. What isthatabout?
“So, Dad. I think Shea and I are going to hit up a party tonight. Is that cool? If you give us a spare key, we’ll be quiet on the way back in.”
“Sure.” he responds with a chin dip. “I’ll give you both a spare, since you could be here a couple of days.” In the following silence, his gaze slides across the table and caresses the tops of my breasts. “You didn’t bring any clothes with you, though. You going to a party dressed in pajamas?”
Emma laughs. “Yeah, why not? We’ll start a trend.” She pops a sushi roll into her mouth. “Besides, my party clothes cover a lot less.”
Jason sighs and downs the rest of his beer.
He sets the empty bottle down carefully, lines of tension forming around his mouth. “What about you, Shea? Do you want to borrow a sweatshirt or something?”
Wear this man’s clothes?
My pulse flutters crazily at the prospect.
Also, yes. I’m already nervous about my first party. I’ll feel much better having a layer of protection. “That would be great, thank you.”
He pushes back from the table and stands up. “I’ll go see if I can find something that won’t swallow you whole.”
“Good luck with that,” Emma snorts. As her father leaves the room, she points her chopsticks at his retreating back. “You should go help him or you’re going to end up in an old, paint-splattered construction sweatshirt.”
That sounds kind of amazing. I wouldn’t mind that at all. Knowing I’m wearing something that Jason sweated in. Wore for countless hours.
Wait, is Emma suggesting that I join her father in his bedroom?
“Go help him…look through his closet?” I stammer.
She waves at me impatiently, just as her phone starts to ring. “Go,” she mouths, answering the call and launching into a rundown of our plans with God knows who.
I’m tingling from head to toe as I stand, moving through the kitchen and turning down a hallway that instinctively I know leads to the primary suite. Sure enough, I find myself in the doorway of yet another masculine design masterpiece, watching Jason search through a closet full of clothes.
