From the Moment We Met

by Adair, Marina

  “We can’t be in a relationship because I haven’t finished listing my terms yet.”

  Who knew the word terms could be so damn hot?

  “Darling, I don’t think I can handle hearing any more of your terms right now.” Then, holding up a finger, he turned his back on the brooding trio. “Although you name the time and place to finish this discussion, and I’ll be there. But I don’t want to press my luck with your family.”

  After a long pause, during which she took a bunch of breaths and even huffed a few times, she whispered, “I’m really sorry if I embarrassed you or made things awkward with my brothers.”

  “You could never embarrass me, and don’t worry about them.”

  “Okay.” She gave a relieved sigh. “Why don’t you meet me at the bottlery tomorrow morning and we’ll finish talking terms?” Yup, his new favorite word. “Oh, and make sure you bring your tool belt.”

  “Darling, I always come equipped.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Temperamental, my ass.

  Flashlight in hand, Abby stared up at the electrical schematics on the wall of the bottlery, then at the electrical panel to her immediate right, and felt a bead of sweat roll down her back. After making sure every switch was in the correct position, every wire was properly connected, she sent up a heartfelt prayer to the electricity fairies and, putting some weight into it, yanked down on the huge lever marked MAIN FLOOR LIGHTS.

  Not a single thing happened.

  Swallowing down a growl of frustration, she glared at the detailed notes in her hand, trying to see what she was doing wrong. Perkins Baudouin, owner of the St. Helena Corkery, whose electrical was installed by the same madman back in 1933, had kindly given her a list of ways to troubleshoot issues as they arose. Apparently, troubleshooting was not her strong suit.

  She looked at her list, checked it twice, and pulled down on the switch again.

  “Dang it!” She drew back her foot and kicked it. Hard. Which did nothing for the lights, but managed to scuff the toe of her favorite leather boots.

  No matter how long she stood there or how many times she flipped the stupid switch, she couldn’t seem to get the warehouse lights to work. It seemed that after four years of interior design school and another six spent in the field, Abigail DeLuca, founder and owner of Abby’s Designs, couldn’t manage to turn on a light.

  Something that would have been hilarious if she wasn’t expecting Tanner any minute. On the off chance he brought his crew ready to work, Abby wanted to at least have the lights working so they could see what needed to be done. Not to mention she’d already had two cups of coffee and really needed to use the bathroom—something that was not going to happen if she couldn’t see what else was using the facilities. The cobwebs on the door were enough to let her know she wouldn’t be alone.

  At that thought, she yanked on the lever one more time. “Shit!”

  “Darling, all the yanking in the world won’t accomplish what a little finesse can.”

  “That hasn’t worked out so well for me in the past.”

  Not bothering to face him, Abby reached for the lever, but before she could pull it again, he placed his big, warm hand over hers. And if that wasn’t enough to render her immobile, he scooted closer, until she could feel all of that six and a half feet of solid muscle and sculpted male perfection pressing up against her back. “Maybe you’ve been finessing the wrong people,” he said.

  Before she could comment, his hand moved to a little unassuming switch off to the right, flipped it, and—bingo—the lights came on.

  Abby looked up and smiled. “How did you do that?”

  “I know which switch to flip.”

  With a roll of the eyes, Abby turned around and—good Lord—the man was big, bad, and equipped to flip every female switch she owned.

  Not only was he in a pair of low-slung tan cargo shorts, which had a thousand little pockets and flaps inspiring a thousand different fantasies and adventures, but he had on a tool belt that said everything there was to be said—and more.

  Even worse, he unleashed those dimples her way and leaned a shoulder against the wall, making the soft gray HARD HAMMER CREW shirt he wore stretch and pull over his impressive chest, barely containing all that was Jack Tanner. And something entirely inappropriate began to pulse below her belly button. As if she didn’t already have enough to deal with.

  “But that switch isn’t on the schematics,” she explained.

  “I installed it yesterday after our call. I wanted to know what I was signing on for so I called Babs, asked her if I could get in and assess the project, see if getting this done on time and budget was a possibility. The last electrician left the panel a complete disaster, so I did a quick patch so you wouldn’t be in the dark, but I’ll have my guy start on the rewiring right away.”

  “Right away?” She swallowed. Did that mean the sexy part of the bargain would start right away too?

  “Depends on two things. How did it go with Eddie?”

  “Besides the fact the town’s inspector is not a leg man? It seems he likes boobs,” she said.

  Tanner’s gaze cut to Abby’s chest and he smiled. “I know.”

  “Then why did you tell me to wear a skirt?”

  “Because I didn’t want him looking at your boobs.” Why that sent little warm fuzzies racing down her spine, she had no idea. Abby didn’t do possessive or overbearing in her men. But on Tanner it worked. “Plus, you have great legs.”

  She looked down, taking in her pencil skirt and knee-high boots. “So you’re okay with him looking at my legs, but not my boobs? Is that why you gave me a hickey?”

  At that a big, cocky smile covered his face. “I was enjoying myself and got caught up. The hickey was just a bonus.”

  Abby didn’t even bother rolling her eyes. “Yeah, well, now he isn’t sure if he can move the inspection to Friday. He said appointments are made to be kept.” She used her best Eddie voice. “And that the proper procedure when one can’t make the scheduled date and time is to reapply. Then I explained I just came on board and could he please make an exception since we are on a time crunch.”

  “And?”

  “And he said he’d have to call me back. But he sounded all put out.”

  Abby looked at the exposed pipes running the length of the room, the wires sticking every which way out of the fuse box, and knew that even with wine country’s fastest hammer and his supercrew on the case, there was no way they would be ready by tomorrow.

  Damn. She should have worn a V-neck shirt. Tanner’s eyes were saying he wouldn’t mind if she’d worn one today.

  “Did you tell him I was the new GC?” he asked, tearing his gaze off her chest to poke around in the fuse box, trying to locate the source of the suspicious-looking puff of smoke drifting from the right side of the panel. “Eddie’s a huge football fan.”

  “Fan? The man had a life-sized poster of you hanging on his door. And no, I didn’t.”

  Calm and unruffled, as though he wasn’t holding enough live volts to scramble his brain, he pulled out a handful of old wires that were spliced and frayed, studying them intently. “Why not?”

  Tanner sounded casual, like her answer didn’t matter, but the way he was leaning against the wall, head down, still studying the already capped-off wires in his hands, told her differently. “Because if he can reschedule he should just reschedule, and having Hard Hammer Tanner as the GC shouldn’t make any difference.”

  “But you know it does,” he said, looking at her, and suddenly Abby had the urge to hug him.

  “I also know what it’s like to have everyone looking at you a certain way, with certain expectations,” Abby said gently.

  The second she had seen Eddie’s GO GOLD OR GO HOME Niners mug, it was clear that dropping Tanner’s name would—what had Brandon said?—oh, yeah, grease the wheels.

&n
bsp; “It gets old. Really fast,” she continued. “And I wasn’t going to leverage your fame.”

  “Even if it means we don’t get the extension?”

  “Even then.” Abby was beginning to understand something about the town’s easiest going celebrity and toughest running back in the NFL. The easygoing was a front, and the big, bad giant of a man wasn’t built as tough as everyone thought. “So if I don’t hear from Eddie by lunch, then I guess I’ll pull out the big guns and go back wearing my tightest tank top.”

  Whoa, and there went the dimples. “Which brings us to the second point in the morning’s agenda. Your terms.”

  Dropping the wires, he stalked toward her until their bodies brushed.

  “Right. Terms.” Telling him over the phone exactly what she wanted was one thing. Telling him while he was standing so close that she could smell the body wash on his skin was another.

  “And then after you lay out your list, which I am sure is lengthy, I get to add a few of my own,” he said, his gaze taking a leisurely journey down her body and back, causing the big guns to take off their safeties.

  Then he stepped even closer, his hands went to her hips, and her mind went from thinking about terms to thinking about sex. With Tanner. Right here.

  Which would be in direct violation of rule number one.

  “No touching in the workplace. I don’t want people thinking I got this job because of my,” she looked up at him, way up, “pipe work skills.”

  “All right, no touching at work,” he said, skimming his palms down her thighs and breaking the first rule on so many levels. “But as soon as it hits five o’clock you have free rein of my pipe.”

  She shoved at his chest, which did nothing except to have him pull her closer, hard proof his pipe was in excellent working order. “I’m being serious.”

  “So am I.” And so were his thumbs, which were now running under the hem of her skirt and along the patch of skin on the back of her thigh. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, no kissing at . . . oh, God,” she moaned, her head falling back when his mouth brushed her neck. She told herself to ignore how sexy he smelled or how good his mouth felt on her throat, nipping and sucking, but her hormones weren’t listening. “Definitely no kissing at work.”

  “I’m not kissing, I’m nibbling,” he whispered against her neck, and that’s when the reality of exactly what she had gotten herself into settled. Terms, rules, guidelines, or not. There was no way she could keep it platonic at work. Not if they were doing this at home.

  But she had to try, she reminded herself, while tilting her head to give him better access.

  There was no sense in busting her butt to prove to the town her talent was enough to carry her, only to get a reputation for getting frisky with the contractor.

  “And no one else,” she said, closing her eyes. “I mean not forever, but for as long as we’re doing, um, this, I need to know I’ll be the only one you’re doing this with.”

  Tanner froze. Hands on her ass, lips on her throat, body shrink-wrapped to hers in a way that had her brain short-circuiting—all of it went stock-still. She felt him pull back and knew he was looking at her. Just like she knew that mere minutes into whatever they were calling this, she’d managed to disappoint him. Which was why she kept her eyes closed.

  “Abby,” he said, his voice so serious she squeezed her lids tighter.

  He didn’t speak again, instead sliding his fingers through her hair, tipping her face up, and she knew he was waiting for her to open her eyes. Never one to do well in contests of patience, she finally did and, oh boy, Tanner looked a little dazed, a whole lot turned on, and completely pissed off.

  “I know we’re not in high school anymore,” she started, “and I’m not asking to wear your jacket or anything, but this is all new to me and . . .” Lord help her, her lips wouldn’t stop moving. “Mature affair or not, I just don’t think I could handle being one of many. So if that isn’t okay, I get it, but I spent most of the last ten years not telling people what I want, and with you I want to be honest,” she swallowed, “about what I want.”

  “Are you done?” he said. She nodded. “Good. Then let me tell you what I want.” His big blue eyes, so intense and sincere, locked on hers. “You. That’s it. No one else. I don’t need or want anything else from this but time with you. So no pressure, no games, just us . . . being real. Starting tonight. Got it?”

  Again with the nod. The man had just said the most romantic thing in the world, and all she could do was move her head.

  “Good.” He gave her a hard smack on the lips. “Now, I agree to your terms, but I have a few of my own.”

  Abby didn’t know if she should be thrilled he’d thought about this enough to have his own conditions, or terrified. Because how the hell would a woman who hadn’t had sex even once in the better part of the last decade measure up to his terms?

  “Okay, first one, and this is nonnegotiable.” Tanner took in a deep breath and looked at the ceiling for a minute, as though considering if he even wanted to go there. “If this is going to work, I need you to let me have the final say on the project.”

  Abby took a step back. “As in, your word is all-powerful because you don’t believe in my judgment?”

  “No.” He frowned, then ran a hand down his face. “No, I meant in terms of the crew. I need to bring a crew of my choosing, no questions asked, even though I know not all the choices will seem logical.” He expelled a long breath. “Okay, only my dad will seem illogical, but I don’t know what else to do. The doctor said he shouldn’t be left home alone anymore. Dad won’t even consider letting me hire outside help. And if he finds out this job is just my answer to babysitting he’ll walk.”

  “We’ll make it work,” Abby said, slipping her arms around his middle. “And we’ll do it in a way that saves his pride.”

  She felt his body sag with relief. Had he really thought she’d tell him Gus couldn’t work on the project? She knew he was being pulled between work and taking care of his dad. And she knew it was wearing on him.

  “Anything else?”

  “Yup.” This time when he looked at her, his face was more relaxed, more Tanner. “I also need piano lessons to resume. ASAP. Because sitting next to you while you wear those little tops of yours is the best part of my week.”

  “Easy enough. I already called my students and have resumed lessons.” Canceling lessons for an entire week when her students’ next recital was scheduled for the beginning of October had been pushing it. Regardless of how many hours she put in at the Pungent Barrel, Abby couldn’t let her students down.

  “I didn’t get a call. And I’m one of your students.”

  “I did call you, only you put me on speaker.” Which, had she known lessons were the best part of his week, she might have risked her brothers’ tempers and booked him immediately.

  “And I’ll have you know I already ordered another phone. It doesn’t have speaker capabilities. Because the next time you call me with an offer like that, I’ll be damned if I don’t get to hear the whole thing. Uninterrupted.” He winked and her heart gave a hard pump to the ribs. “As for lessons, I’ll bring my sheet music. The Imperial March.” Of course the fate of her world came down to Star Wars sheet music. “Tonight. Oh, and make sure mine is the last lesson of the evening so we can share coffee and dessert afterward.”

  “Seven o’clock, then.” This was really happening. “I’ll make another wine cake.”

  And with that, his smile went full-blown. “Yeah, that sounds good too.”

  “Is that all?” she asked, giving him a little “yeah, right” shove to the pecs. But she knew one more lesson sitting next to his hard, sculpted body on that way-too-small bench and he’d have her saying “Yeah, right.”

  Yeah. Right there!

  “Nope. One last thing.” This was the one he’d been gearing up f
or. She could tell because his smile turned wicked—and hot. “Since I don’t want to rush you, but I also need you to give this a real chance, you have to promise me we have until the end of this project. Think of it as half up front and half on delivery.”

  “What half do you want first?”

  Six hours later at a meeting Tanner had called to see where everyone stood, he was still hard-pressed to choose which half of Abby he wanted first. Maybe it was the high-collar shirt, but he’d always considered himself a breast man, and Abby was beyond impressive in that department. Hell, the way her snug blouse hugged her every curve as she studied the electrical plans in front of her was more than inspiring. But when she rested her hand on the table, lifting one of those sleek black boots, which had her even sleeker black skirt tugging across that perfect handful, he was having a change of heart.

  Not that Abby didn’t have a pair of perfect tens. But her ass was the kind locker room legends were made from.

  “The good news is I can start on the main runs and conduits as soon as the stock arrives, which should be tomorrow,” Ben Burns said. Tanner tore his gaze off Abby and back to the meeting at hand.

  “Don’t you know you should always lead with the bad news? That way you end on a high note,” Abby said, studying the impressive electrical plans Ben had thrown together in the past few hours.

  “Yeah, well, since the good news pretty much blows in comparison, I didn’t think it would matter, because unless I can find a new electrical panel that will work, none of the rest will matter.” Dressed in a black graphic tee and pair of black skinny jeans, floppy hair hanging in his face, Ben looked more like a basement-dwelling gamer than an electrician. Despite being only in his early twenties and preferring wires to people, he was one of the best electricians Tanner had ever worked with. Fast, creative, a perfectionist—and staring right at Abby’s cleavage.