Wild For You. Debbi Rawlins
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was light pink and on the small side.
“Your wife’s?’ she asked, startled at the thought.
“It’s my mom’s. She forgot it when she visited. She won’t mind.”
Well, hell... That didn’t tell her anything. “Are you married?”
“No.”
“Good.” Erin almost choked on the word. She stared at Spencer, praying there was a chance she hadn’t actually said it out loud.
His brows had risen slightly. “You want the robe or not?”
She grabbed it and shut the door.
Well, at least he wasn’t laughing. Anyway, good could mean lots of things.
She finished undressing while keeping her eyes on the folder. All she needed to worry about was getting him to give his permission to film on his land. It was easy money, for heaven’s sake. The crew would leave his property just as they found it, if not in even better condition.
By the time she’d slipped into the robe and made necessary adjustments so her bra wouldn’t show, she could smell coffee. Spencer clearly liked his brew strong.
He was standing at the kitchen sink with his back to her, and she took advantage of the moment to study his long denim-clad legs and narrow hips. Great butt, good enough to be a body double...although she’d have to see him naked to know for sure.
He turned suddenly, as if he’d sensed her watching him. His gaze took in the robe, the exposed lower half of her calves and bare feet, before motioning with his chin. “You know where the laundry room is.”
“Yep. Thanks.”
Erin had been to so many Laundromats in her twenty-eight years that she thought she’d used every model and brand of washing machine on the market.
She was so wrong.
Studying the list of different cycles was getting her more excited than was probably healthy. But she didn’t care, because this baby could do everything but make a bed. And she hadn’t even looked at the dryer yet.
“Is there a problem?”
At the sound of Spencer’s voice, she glanced at him standing in the doorway, but only briefly before she turned back to the washer. “Check this out...it has seven wash cycles and—”
“I’m aware.”
“Oh, right.” She’d already put in detergent and her clothes, set it for an extra-small load and cold water, then chose a cycle before moving over to the dryer. “As soon as I start making some real money, I’m getting a pair of these. You remember how much they cost?”
“Around thirty-five hundred, I think.”
“Dollars?” She realized what she’d said the same second he tightened his mouth. Wow, he’d almost smiled again. “Go ahead and laugh.” She turned to stroke the dryer. “I’d never have to iron again.” Erin hadn’t touched an iron in years. “Or wear wrinkled clothes.”
“If you want, there’s fabric softener and dryer sheets in the cabinet in front of you.”
She’d seen them on the shelf above the laundry detergent. Everything was so clean and orderly, it kind of made her nervous. It wasn’t that she was a slob or anything, but as soon as she’d started living out of a suitcase most of the time, her main priority was remembering to pack everything.
She opened the cabinet and knew reaching the second shelf was iffy. Even with raising herself on tiptoes, her fingertips only grazed the box of dryer sheets.
Spencer came up behind her and brought down the box. “How about the fabric softener?”
“No, thanks,” she murmured, feeling his heat against her back. He wasn’t actually touching her, but he wasn’t giving her any space, either. Experimentally, she inched back, and it was like she’d hit a brick wall. Despite his lean build, he was solid muscle.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah,” she said, turning around to face him. Her right breast grazed his arm, and a shiver raced down her spine. Spencer backed up a step. It didn’t help. Hell, he’d have to leave the state before the flutters in her chest would stop. “How about we talk a little business while I’m waiting for my clothes?”
She’d always had a husky voice, even as a kid. But it sounded different, lower than usual, as though she might be coming down with a cold. Ignoring it, she waited for him to say something, not sure how long she’d be able to hold his piercing gaze.
The silence between them seemed to suspend time, which Erin didn’t foolishly mistake for the possibility he’d changed his mind. A sudden chill coming from him took care of the fluttering problem.
“Okay, wait,” she said, catching his arm when he turned to leave. “How about a tour of the house? Not the bedrooms or anything. Just, you know, common areas.”
He stopped to stare pointedly at her hand. “Why? So you can see if all the cameras would fit?”
Erin sighed, hating the shift in his demeanor. “Come on, you can’t blame me for trying...” she said, lowering her hand. “I know we got off to a rocky start. Completely my fault. I rushed in without explaining how it works. We’re only asking for a two-week window to access your property. None of the crew would come anywhere near you or the house—”
“I don’t blame you at all,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “In fact, if you have some other trick up your sleeve, go for it. Let’s see what you got.”
“Trick?” None of this made sense. He’d known all along why she was here. “You think I fell in the mud on purpose?”
“I don’t know. Did you?”
“Of course not.” She couldn’t read him. Was he teasing, or trying to distract her? “I swear to you, the land would be left in perfect condition. And the money is more than generous.” Pausing for a breath, she moistened her dry lips. “Better than the boilerplate.” She wasn’t lying. She’d nearly gotten her head chewed off for the offer she’d extended him.
His brows rose expectantly. “That’s it?”
She stared at him, thoroughly confused.
“I have to admit, I’m disappointed,” he said. “I expected something interesting. Not that it would’ve mattered. I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Wait. Don’t you have any questions for me? Whatever is holding you back might not be an issue at all. At least let me try to put your concerns to rest.” She grabbed the folder off the dryer and followed him into the kitchen. “Can we do that?”
“Do what?”
“Start a discussion.”
He poured coffee into a black mug and ignored the blue one that she presumed he’d set out for her. Leaning against the counter, he took a sip while staring at her over the rim. It wasn’t so much his silence as the sudden narrowing of his eyes that unnerved her.
“What?”
“I do have a question.”
“Great,” she said, relaxing and pouring some coffee. Maybe they could come to terms after all. “Ask me anything.”
“What exactly are you prepared to do to get me to agree?”
The sugar she was lightly sprinkling into her mug slipped for a moment. It wasn’t so much his words but his tone that set off alarm bells. “I don’t think I understand the question.”
He gave her a slow smile. “I think you do.”
She really hoped he wasn’t implying what she thought... She looked up and followed his gaze to where the robe had slipped off her shoulder. The thick chenille fabric had taken her bra strap with it. Easy to