Good with His Hands Read Free Page B

knew she’d spent the day here alone.
    But it turned out the building wasn’t entirely deserted. As she juggled her belongings in her arms to lock the brokerage door, she heard footsteps in the hall behind her. She glanced back immediately; her dad, who’d been far more comfortable teaching her self-defense than taking her bra shopping, had coached her to be aware of her surroundings.
    Her eyes widened. Hot Architect! It was like a sign. Or fate, if she believed in such nonsense.
For today, be a believer.
“Hi.”
    â€œHi,” he echoed. “I didn’t think anyone else was cooped up in the building on such a gorgeous day.” His lips quirked in a lazy half smile, his gaze dropping in a brief but appreciative once-over before returning to meet hers. “Never been so happy to be wrong.”
    He was
flirting
with her? His unexpectedly playful tone was like diving into cold water on a scorching summer day—an initial shock to the system, but damn it felt good.
    Although he still hadn’t given her a full smile, humor danced in his eyes. “I hope your presence here on a Saturday afternoon doesn’t mean you’re a stuffy workaholic,” he teased. “That would be tragic. But I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
    â€œYou’re here, too. Workaholic tendencies?”
    She could almost believe the man she normally saw in well-tailored suits was a workaholic. But now?
Lord have mercy.
His dark hair was rumpled. With no trace of styling product, it looked shaggier yet sexy. He filled out a pair of jeans in a way that could make a grown woman weep, and his T-shirt... She tried not to gape, scarcely believing how he’d hid those biceps under his suit jackets.
    He crossed his arms over his chest, giving her a great view of corded forearms. “I wouldn’t describe myself as a workaholic.” This time, instead of the half smile, he flashed a wicked grin. “But I don’t stop until the job’s done to everyone’s mutual satisfaction.”
    Her mind raced, full of suggestions on how such satisfaction could be reached. Hadn’t she promised herself that when he finally smiled at her, she’d make a move?
    â€œAre you on your way to the elevators?” he asked.
    â€œStairwell, actually. I prefer physical activity.”
    His grin widened. There was a bracketed indentation to the right of his mouth, not deep enough or boyish enough to be called a dimple, but close. “Sounds like you and I have a lot in common.”
    Two days ago, she’d offered the innocuous suggestion of buying him a pastry. Now she wanted to offer a whole lot more than that. Dinner, maybe. And dessert, back at her place.
Slow your roll, Yates. The guy doesn’t even know your name yet.
“I’m Danica, by the way. My friends call me Dani.”
    â€œMine call me Grayson. Or just Gray.” He reached out to shake her hand, his fingers calloused and warm against her skin. She suddenly wanted to know what that touch would feel like along the rest of her body.
    â€œDo you have anywhere you have to be?” She blurted the question before she could change her mind. “Because, personally, I’m dying to let off some steam.”
    Heat flared in his eyes, his smile fading into something more intense. “What did you have in mind?”
    â€œFor starters, a drink at a bar I know.” The delicious way he was looking at her made her reckless and lightheaded. “After that...well, I guess we’ll see.”
    He stepped closer. They weren’t touching, but the proximity was intimate. Her body prickled in heightened awareness and if her hands weren’t full, she’d be fanning herself. “Consider my evening cleared.”
    Wow. She was really doing this. Exhilaration and desire were a potent mix, an electric buzz along her nerves.
    They fell in step together, and he opened the door for her when they reached