Although pole dancing was definitely on the list, she was distracted by the sounds of other people being industrious, and the glorious sun-shiny afternoon—which, by the look of the sky, wasn’t going to last much longer. And, of course, she was distracted by him. Cruz. Even though he wasn’t in the room, he was nearby.
She couldn’t concentrate on freaking pole dancing knowing that he might walk through the door at any moment, shirt off, muscles moving beneath tanned, damp, glistening skin. If Cruz’s earlier promise of letting her tie him up was true, she couldn’t wait for the Latours to leave.
She’d felt like an idiot earlier. She was genuinely petrified once she’d climbed to the top of that ladder. Who knew fear could be so incapacitating? Yet, the moment Cruz put his arms around her, she felt safe. Safer, at least. And, she now realized, it was the first time she could remember that she’d not only needed someone else’s help but had accepted it willingly.
Tapping the orange highlighter on her chin, Mia glanced outside, checking on Charlie again as he played on the bank near the water. No sign of Cruz. The ladder was gone, and she didn’t hear him hammering on the roof. His truck and camper were parked in the side yard, next to her truck.
The child’s dark head was bowed, and he’d stopped throwing sticks. Shoulders hunched, hands shoved in his pockets, he looked the picture of dejection. Mia wondered if she should go outside to talk to him. But she knew nothing about kids, and besides, both of his parents were within shouting distance.
“Oso, do you want to play? Go outside to Charlie.” She gave the alert dog an encouraging push with the side of her foot. “Go on. Go play with Charlie. Good boy!”
The dog streaked out of the kitchen, his nails clicking on the wood floor as he dashed outside. Had he understood her? She rose to see if dog and boy were together. They were. Oso danced around the little boy, tail wagging like crazy. Mia stood there for a full minute watching the two greet each other, one shyly, the other with manic exuberance.
For a moment everything looked normal.
Until she looked behind the happy pair to the dark and dangerous bayou, perilously close by. Nothing was ever as light and carefree as it appeared.
• • •
Dark clouds hung low in the sky and the odd light on the trees and water made the colors almost surreal, much like her favorite Turner painting, hanging in the entryway of her house in San Francisco.
Hot and muggy outside, it wasn’t much better inside, since she didn’t have air-conditioning. “I should get an air conditioner,” she said, talking to herself as she sat on a high stool at the island just as Cruz walked into the kitchen.
He’d ditched the shirt he’d tied around his head, and his hair hung to his broad shoulders. Wearing jeans and still bare-chested, he looked delectable. Tanned, fit, and sweaty. Mia wanted to jump his bones.
“You planning on being here long enough to need one?” he asked, opening a cabinet, taking out a glass, and walking over to turn on the tap. Turning his back to the sink, he chugged the water, then refilled the glass. Fascinated by the way his throat moved, Mia had to try to remember what the conversation was about. He looked like one of the hunky half-naked male models in an ad for Seduction, Blush’s top-selling male cologne. Better.
Models imitated men like Cruz. Good ones came close, but none that Mia had ever laid eyes on—and there had been many—ever managed to pull off the raw masculinity that Cruz exuded. Seduction? Yes, he could sell that. Easily. It was a great scent. But the reality was, this man could sell anything by the gallon if he ever appeared in an ad.
“I need one now.” Tucking the booklet under her computer, she closed the screen and gave him a bland look. Which was no easy task. She wanted to race across the kitchen and jump into his arms like a motherless monkey, take him down to the peeling linoleum floor, and screw his brains out right there in the middle of the kitchen. She gave him an appreciative up-and-down look, lingering strategically now and then.
The prospect of making him vulnerable and at her mercy had fueled all sorts of creative and erotic thoughts for the last hour.
“There’s lemonade and tea in the fridge, and Daisy made you a ham sandwich for lunch. Which I ate, because I told you lunch was ready three hours ago, and I was hungry an hour ago. You snooze, you lose, Barcelona.”
“I’ll grab something before I go back outside.” He opened the fridge and took out the jug of tea, then filled his glass with ice and poured. Finding the sugar, he dumped a stream straight into his drink.
Mia shook her head. “I see diabetes and massive weight gain in your future.” There wasn’t a spare ounce of fat on him anywhere. Just tanned, sleek skin pulled taut over impressive bands of muscle. The man was in his prime and didn’t need to flex those biceps to look like sex on a stick.