"Understood," he said gruffly, watching as Louisa paced over to the window and began to stroke the leaves of one of the plants as she stared out toward the water that was just visible above the rooftops and tree line.
"There's not more to it than you're telling us, is there?" Cabe lowered his voice. "Did something already happen between you two?"
Six looked at Cabe, who was watching Louisa too. He had no intention of sharing what had happened between the two of them that morning. It was too important. Words to define it seemed just out of reach, but there'd been a hell of a lot more to it than purely physical. The way she'd looked at him, the way he'd drowned in those eyes of hers … it was everything, or it had been. Now he had to step away, be the good soldier, set the tone for the other guys.
"I got it, okay. Go home, Cabe," he said. Six really did get it. Nothing good ever came of mixing business with pleasure, but his feelings for Louisa had been developing way before she'd decided to hire them. Hell, they'd been developed before she had ridden his cock with an abandon he'd never experienced. And now he was anxious to see what they could be together.
"Left you a case of beer in the fridge. See you tomorrow, asshole."
"Yeah. 'Night," he said, not unkindly. It would all blow over before the morning. Grudges never worked out, no matter how pissed they were at one another. Plus, it wasn't as if he and Louisa could never get together. Putting their exploration of each other on hold would be a short-term thing. A postponement, not a cancellation.
He watched as Cabe said something to Louisa, who kept her head down but nodded before looking over toward Six. Cabe let himself out and Louisa walked over to him.
"You want a drink, Lou?" he said.
"I'd love one. I know it's wrong to use alcohol as a crutch, but if I don't do something to take the edge off, I might never get to sleep."
"I'm pretty sure you're a long way from the alcohol-abuse side of the drinking spectrum." Six stood and placed his hand on her lower back. "Believe me, you deserve a little something." They walked to the kitchen and he opened the fridge. "I got beer or pinot grigio. Take your pick."
"Wine would be great," she said as she squared the stools against the counter. She was a conundrum. She wasn't consistent enough to be OCD as far as he could tell with his highly untrained eye-there was a pile of bills on the counter, for instance, that she hadn't straightened. It was as if she just needed something to do with her hands when she was stressed out. Or worried. Or both.
He opened the bottle, grabbed a glass, and poured her a larger measure than he usually would. It would help her sleep. Her fingers brushed his as he handed the wine to her. They were frigidly cold, and the urge to pull her into his arms, to warm her and reassure, was so strong that he had to force himself to act busy getting his own beer.
"You ever surf?" he asked her as she set her wine glass on the counter and folded her arms on the countertop. Goddamn. The position gave him a clear view straight down the V of her blouse, revealing the curves of two perfectly tanned breasts. It drove him crazy. He remembered what they'd felt like in his hand, pressed up against his chest. So did his cock, which was certainly starting to tent his shorts, though he didn't dare look down and draw her attention to it.
She shook her head. "Never took the time to learn."
"Then that's what we'll do. When this is over, I'm going to teach you how to surf."
"I'm not sure that's a good-"
Six laughed. "It's the best idea." He'd love to see her in a bikini on a board. She'd be focused. And hot. And damn. He was back where his thoughts had started. "Listen, Lou. Now you're a client … I'm not supposed to … Well, I can't set a bad example for the other guys."
"A bad example about what?" she asked, cocking her head so her bangs fell to the side. She had no idea how he'd do anything she asked if she looked straight at him.
"This." He gestured between the two of them. "Exploring us. It needs to wait until our work with you is over."
Disappointment saturated her features. "Oh … right. Okay."
"I'm sorry, Lou. It's just that-"
"No. No. I get it. It's fine," she said, pushing her half-drunk wine toward him. "I understand. I'm tired. Anyway … so … I'm going to go to bed. Good night, Six." He watched her hurry off toward her room, one that was less than ten feet away from his, and sighed.