Eric grinned. "What's the problem? I'm enjoying this whole telecommuting thing. I could totally get used to ditching the jacket and tie. And baby, in case you hadn't noticed, it's way hotter down here than in Chicago. I'm too uncomfortable to wear clothes. When is the AC guy supposed to arrive? I hope he's more competent than that idiot Mike."
She sighed. "The electrician came highly recommended. I have a list of contractors. He was the first on the list."
"Seriously? Who gave you the list?" Tate sounded irritated.
"My grandmother's lawyer. You guys seem to have taken a dislike to Mike, but his quote is very reasonable and he seems to know what he's doing. So let him do it." The sooner she got the wiring fixed, the faster she could figure out how much money she had left for the pretty stuff. For now, focusing on prepping the living room walls for paint would force her to look at something besides the lovely male chests on display.
Another knock sounded on the door. Tate scowled. "I don't like all these people coming in and out. We don't know who they are. Baby, our place in Chicago doesn't need this much work. You could move right in. We'd make sure you were totally happy and comfortable."
She tried to squeeze between the two men to head for the door. But she brushed her breasts against Tate's chest. Then she felt it. He had a massive, gloriously thick erection that pressed against his sweatpants and prodded her belly. The feel of him, hard and wanting, caught her off guard and she stepped back-into Eric.
Eric laughed, glancing down at Tate's junk. "Dude, I have no idea how you run with that thing."
But she felt Eric's too, jutting against her ass. He wasn't at all small or flaccid either.
"I can't help it," Tate defended. "The average adult male gets approximately eleven erections daily during waking hours, but when I'm around Belle or think about her-or even remember something that reminds me of her-I get hard. I'm probably skewing the average." He shrugged. "I'm a guy who happens to be really crazy about a girl. Sue me."
"Nah, I'd have to sue myself, too," Eric admitted.
"No doubt." Tate slapped his buddy on the shoulder and headed toward the stairs. "I'm going to take care of this thing, then I need to conference on the Harrison case."
"Take care of what?" Belle just blinked. He couldn't mean what she thought he meant.
With a wink, Tate jogged up the stairs with more energy than a man who'd already spent an hour running should have. He would have that stamina in bed. The thought slammed her out of nowhere. This time, more than her cheeks flamed.
"He's going to go masturbate," Eric said matter-of-factly.
Someone knocked on the door again, this time more insistently.
"More information than I needed." She scurried for the kitchen door, trying to put space between them. They were driving her completely insane, and if she didn't spend the next hour imaging Tate bringing himself pleasure, it would be a miracle.
"We're in your face because you're being a stubborn little thing." Eric caught her before she escaped by placing a palm flat on the door, caging her in. "Come home with us, Belle, to a place we can all share. Give us another shot, baby. Let us show you this can work."
He was so close, his mouth lingering just above hers. She nearly lost herself in his glittering greenish eyes. All she'd have to do was lift her chin and inch up on her tiptoes to feel those firm, talented lips against her own. Already, her body prepared itself for him. She'd softened and had to force herself not to lean into him. Her nipples peaked. Her pussy moistened and throbbed.
Whoever stood outside banged impatiently against the door again, and the moment was broken.
Biting out a curse, Eric stepped back. "I'm going to set up that conference. This afternoon, we'll help you paint."
She shook her head. "You don't need to do that. I understand you have work."
"I said we'll help you after lunch. And I expect you to eat today. Lunch is at noon. See you then." Eric turned and planted himself at the breakfast table again.
Shaking her head, Belle pushed her way out of the room and hustled to the door, signing for an overnight package of new bedding she'd ordered.
As soon as she shut the door, she leaned against it and closed her eyes. What was she going to do? The guys weren't going to leave. They'd already made that point crystal clear. If she kept them here, their business would eventually suffer.
Or they might do exactly what they threatened and move the whole damn office here permanently. Tate had already bought a book on passing the bar in Louisiana.