The Closer You Come. Gena Showalter
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I’m still reeling.
“No judgment,” she said and stood. “And now it’s time for me to jet.” Before I do or say something more stupid. “I’m late for work, so...this is goodbye.”
His gaze still locked on her, he stepped closer to her, too close for comfort. She should have backed up, if only out of a sense of propriety, but she remained in place. He crossed his arms over his massive chest, those green eyes heating, burning. A sign of...arousal?
The provocative scent of him filled the air between them; it was masculine, sultry and heady, and it fogged her thoughts. It must have. Why else would she have continued to gaze up at him instead of running away?
“Jase?”
“Brook Lynn.”
Her heart must have heard music her ears couldn’t pick up, because the treacherous organ whipped into a frenzied beat, perhaps even doing cartwheels. Her breaths began to come faster, and shallow. I’m panting. I’m freaking panting. She shifted from one side to the other. He took another step toward her, as if compelled, then another, the last whisper between them vanishing.
He’s the predator, and I’m the prey.
Need more space. Now!
Finally, the synapses in her brain connected, and she hopped backward. As one minute ticked into another, relief remained just out of reach. In fact, she’d just made everything worse, her body aching...desperate to be close to him again...determined to hold on to a strength unlike any she’d ever encountered...to be held on to, as if she were precious, as if she were worth anything, worth everything.
The distance had the opposite effect on him. He snapped out of...whatever they’d been doing and gave a clipped shake of his head. He massaged the back of his neck and even took a step backward on his own, asking, “How much money do you make at the jewelry store?”
No way. No way he’d gone there. “What size is your penis?” she snapped.
He didn’t miss a beat. “Ex-large.”
His balls were that size, too. “Well, my paycheck isn’t your business.” It was so pathetic, she almost wished it wasn’t her business.
She carried her empty plate to the sink, at last spying her phone and keys...right next to a check for two thousand dollars, made out to her. She nearly hyperventilated as she clutched the small piece of paper to her chest. It was more than she’d ever had in her possession.
“I don’t...I can’t...”
“Don’t even think about refusing,” he said.
“I...I won’t.” She couldn’t. And she couldn’t face him, this man who’d just saved her from certain financial ruin. She’d finally do what her body wanted and throw herself at him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Her phone vibrated, signaling a text had just come in. She checked the screen to find three missed calls and four texts, all from Edna.
You’re late, Brook Lynn. I’m going to assume you meant to call and alert me?
Edna had never learned to abbreviate.
Where are you??????? the second text read.
Third: Are you coming in today or not?
Fourth: THIS IS VERY UNPROFESSIONAL MISS DILLON. PERHAPS YOU AREN’T SERIOUS ABOUT WORKING HERE OR BUYING THE SHOP.
Just peachy. “I’ve got to go,” she said on a sigh. “If you could give Jessie Kay a ride home, I’d appreciate it.” Brook Lynn continued to do her best to avoid looking at him, although her reason for doing so had changed. Reminded of her sister...reminded of what this man had done to Jessie Kay, with Jessie Kay, a flood of guilt swept through her.
I shouldn’t want to hold him or be held by him. I should want to slap him.
Jase opened his mouth, closed it. He ran a hand through his hair, the thick muscles in his arms knotting, his body radiating a frustration his facial features failed to project.
“I’d...like to offer you a job,” he finally gritted out.
That was what bothered him? The thought of offering her a job?
Wait. Back up. He actually wanted her to work for him? Shock forced her to meet his gaze once again. His eyes were darker, deeper...infinite. She shivered, her tone breathless as she asked, “A job?”
He inclined his head, saying more easily, “As my assistant.”
“Your assistant?” When had she become an echo?
Another incline of his head.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why do you need an assistant? What do you even do?”
“I live.”
“You live.” Echoing again. “What does that mean?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Look, I have to fix this place up, make sure it’s safe. Habitable. I can’t do that if I’m always leaving to buy supplies.”
“So you’d want me to buy supplies?”
“Among other things,” he muttered.
“What other things?” Love-shack cleanup? Finding all the panties stuffed in his mattress?
“This and that.”
“Wow. You’re so informative.” But she needed another job. Desperately. Her Rhinestone Cowgirl wages weren’t enough to survive and thrive. “How much would you pay me? What hours would I work? Monday through Saturday, I wouldn’t be able to start until sometime after noon. And why do you want me?”
The words reverberated in her head, the burn returning to her cheeks. “I mean,” she added, “what skills do you think I bring to the table?” She’d graduated high school, sure—barely. After her mother died, she’d stopped caring about her grades. And after Uncle Kurt left, she’d been too busy working any odd job she could find, trying to make money and remove some of the burden from Jessie Kay’s shoulders. Delivering newspapers and running errands for her neighbors hadn’t exactly allowed her to build a sought-after skill set.
Jase thought for a moment, sighed. “You’re loyal and dedicated, two of my favorite things. In an employee,” he was quick to add.
Her brow furrowed as she considered his words. “How do you know I’m loyal and dedicated? This is only our third conversation.”
His expression said do we really need to get into that?
No, she supposed they didn’t. The answer was simple. The way she chased after Jessie Kay.
“I’ll pay you five hundred dollars a week,” he said.
What! Did he expect her to hand over a kidney, too? Did she care? The greatest opportunity of her life had just presented itself on a maple-syrup-soaked breakfast platter. And, really, the job would be easy. A basic fetch and carry, with a little of this and that on the side. Baking? Getting rid of one-night stands?
Done, done and done. With a smile.
But she couldn’t rush into anything, had to chat with her sister, weigh the pros and cons. “I need a day to think about it,” she said.
He nodded, as if he’d expected such a response. “Call me tomorrow.”
“I’ll need your—”
“My number is already programmed into your phone.”
Uh... “How is it programmed into my phone? I didn’t add it.”
“No, you didn’t. But I did.”
How—