Later he learned how she’d gone to Washington to work for a congressman who shared her interest in sustainability and was trying to protect small farms. Scott never would have guessed that beneath the polished, glossy exterior beat the heart of a crusader. But maybe with what he’d seen here so far it made sense. She had a strong sense of service and wasn’t the type to walk away from a problem.
Which were both things he could get behind.
She’d thought about law school and had applied for the job at the Pentagon to save money to go, when Mick came into her life.
The reminder of Mick was enough to stop his questions for the day. But today he found himself handing her tools as she took apart a toilet to try to fix a slow leak, and couldn’t resist asking, “How did you learn so much about fixing toilets?”
She’d tried the rubber flapper first, but when that hadn’t worked she’d had to replace the entire fill valve. He wasn’t sure he’d ever removed the top part of the toilet—the tank lid, she’d called it—before, let alone tried to fix one.
She blew a wisp of hair that had come loose from her ponytail out of her face as she leaned down to finish screwing something in place before answering. “My dad was handy, and I liked to follow him around to help when I was little.” She looked over at him and smiled. He tried to ignore the sudden tightness in his chest, but how could someone fixing a toilet look so freaking adorable? “I pretty much did what you are doing. Sitting there and handing him tools and watching. Eventually he started to let me really help.”
Scott lifted one eyebrow. “Are you suggesting that I’m not really helping?”
She laughed. “Pretty much. But you are good at lifting heavy stuff—and you’re pretty mean with a hammer.”
“Good to know I’m not completely useless,” he said dryly.
Nothing like having the holes in his skill set pointed out. It had been a long time since he’d been humbled.
Well, maybe he wasn’t Mr. Fixit, but he could take out terrorist cells, rescue hostages, and lead cover operations deep behind enemy lines with some of the most highly trained operators in the world. Shouldn’t that count for something?
She grinned as if she knew exactly what he was thinking—she probably did. Not many people could read him as well as Natalie could. Apparently he wasn’t as opaque as the guys on the team thought.
She shrugged unrepentantly. “We didn’t have a lot of money and my father didn’t believe in picking up the phone to pay someone for something you could do yourself.”
“I like to think of it as adding to the economy.”
She laughed, knowing he was joking. “You don’t know Herb Andersson.”
No, Scott didn’t. But he wished he did. From what Natalie had said the past couple of days, her father sounded like a tough, hardworking family man who loved his wife and adopted daughters more than anything in the world. “Any other hidden talents I should know about? Like fixing carburetors?”
“I’m not as good with cars as my father is, but I can fix farm equipment.”
Jesus. “I was joking.”
She grinned. “I know.”
“But you weren’t?”
She just smiled and went back to the toilet.
• • •
Something had changed. It wasn’t like the way it had been before, but it wasn’t like a few days ago when Scott had first showed up, either. The wariness and distance was still there, but the biting layer of ice had cracked.
Natalie knew not to put much hope in the temporary lull while they waited for the doctor to call, but it was hard not to think that Scott had softened toward her. He wasn’t looking at her as if he hated her anymore, which was definitely an improvement. Once or twice she’d actually caught him looking at her with something else entirely in his gaze. Lust... desire...I want to rip your clothes off and push you up against the closest door—whatever you wanted to call it. He was trying to hide it, but it was clear that Scott still wanted her.
It was a crack, but not one she wanted to press. No matter how difficult it was not to respond to those heated looks. There never had been a lot of holding back between them; it was hard to get used to not touching him when she wanted to. All the time.
She was tempted to put in air-conditioning with how hot all this working-together time was making her. The rooms in this house were generously proportioned, but he made it feel like a dollhouse. He dominated the space and sucked up all the air. Every time she moved around she seemed to be bumping into that big, too-hard-and-muscular body. And not much had changed since that first time at the bar. Her nerve endings still flared with awareness.Heatedawareness that was worse because she knew exactly how incredible it was to make love with him.
Yes, she was tempted. Very tempted to press her one advantage. But she didn’t want to be accused of trying to seduce him and reinforcing every negative Mata Haristereotype that he probably thought about her. Whatever he might think, sex had never been her weapon, and she wasn’t going to make it one.
Besides, she didn’t think it would be effective. Even if she could get him back into bed, she knew better than to think that would translate to anything more. Scott was too compartmentalized. He would never let his personal feelings or emotions impact his duty or what he thought was the right thing. That was why trying to spy on him had been so useless. And why she hadn’t gone to him for help the first time around.
No, if he was going to help her this time, it wouldn’t be because she gave great head. Although he did love it when she got on her knees....
Not what she should be thinking about when he was sitting on the edge of the tub and she was on her knees next to the toilet to access the base (the entire assembly unit needed to be replaced). It would be so easy to move around in front of him and...
