After looking around, Joe met her gaze. “How big is the house?”
“About fifteen-hundred square feet. One bedroom and a den. Kitchen, family room combination and formal dining room. It’s small, but my budget and I like that. It’s perfect for me.”
Perfectly calculated to keep her personal space from admitting anyone else, he noted. But she was a lady who knew what she wanted and where she was going. He liked that. In fact he liked everything about her.
“Taking a wild guess, I bet that desk is going in the den.” He blew on his coffee, then took a sip.
Faking amazement, she shook her head. “You are just full of surprises, Joe. You’re not just all brawn and no brains. There’s some intelligence tucked away behind that pretty face.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m a sure thing, lady. You don’t have to use flattery to get the job done.”
“And speaking of the job, those boxes are waiting in the den.”
“Plural? As in more than one?” he said skeptically. “It really is a big desk.”
She led the way down the short hall to the room across from her bedroom. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He watched the seductive sway of her hips and ruefully acknowledged that he needed a warning. But not about the ups and downs of desk assembly. She had a trim back and narrow waist. Her graceful, sexy movements were guaranteed to make a man sit up and take notice. She hadn’t warned him about that. Not to mention the lush curves of her thighs that tapered to shapely calves and ankles. She was so not his type. His taste ran to tall, statuesque redheads. Liz was compact, curvy and cute. But man, oh, man. She packed a powerful punch in that petite body. Her rounded derriere was just the right shape and looked soft—the kind of soft that invited a man’s touch.
Whoa, Joe. Suddenly he was glad that Liz kept her distance, because thoughts like that could take him to a place he didn’t want to go—no way, no how. If he went there, it was a surefire way to send her running for cover. He found he wanted very much to have her around. The best way to do that was hands at his sides, nose to the grindstone.
But he couldn’t help peeking into her bedroom. The quick look gave him an impression of utter femininity—queen-sized four-poster bed, floral spread, lots of pillows in shades of green, maroon and pink. And lace. That den of delicacy begged for a man’s presence, if nothing else to help Liz tangle the sheets beneath that tempting coverlet. He pushed that thought away, wondering if it was a mistake for him to have volunteered to help her with anything. Sharing her space gave him all kinds of ideas.
She walked into the den and surveyed the two long, flat, rectangular cardboard boxes. “Here it is. Hard to believe the large, three-dimensional piece of furniture I fell in love with fits in those tiny boxes,” she said ruefully.
“Never fear,” he said. “Marchetti is here.”
“I’d feel better about that statement if you were a construction worker instead of a people person.” She rested her hands on the hips he’d so recently admired. “I don’t suppose the Human Resources Director has much experience in the field of building furniture.”
“Resources is the key word,” he said. “I’m a resourceful guy. No job too big, too small, too challenging.”
“I’ll go get my tool box.”
He lifted one eyebrow. “Liz Anderson, tool chick?”
She grinned. “Joe Marchetti, carpenter dude?”
He grinned back. “Touché.”
Liz slid her chair away from her kitchen table, stood up, then picked up Joe’s empty dinner plate as well as her own. A very late dinner, she thought. But well worth it since her desk was assembled and organized. Joe had done a wonderful job, especially since the directions were about as long as War and Peace and as complicated as the Russian translation. She had ordered pizza for lunch, but as the hours of frustrating work added up, she knew a meal cooked with her very own hands was definitely what the tool-man deserved.
“Let me help you with the dishes,” he said standing, too.
“Are you kidding?” she protested. “You’ve done more today than one simple home-cooked meal can repay. No way do you have to help with cleanup.”
“That chicken was great,” he said.
“I wasn’t fishing for compliments.”
“And I wasn’t saying it just to flatter you. I sincerely enjoyed your cooking. Just be gracious and say thank you.”
“Thank you. I choose to believe you. And from a restaurant-type person like yourself, that was high praise.”
“I still want to help you clean up.” He put his hands on lean, jean-clad hips as he stared down at her.
She hadn’t been prepared for her powerful physical response to his presence. Her breath caught at that ultra-masculine pose, not to mention the snug T-shirt that teased her imagination about what was underneath. Her imagination was just getting warmed up she realized, as her gaze wandered over his worn jeans covering muscular thighs.
All her gazing added up to torment for her nerves. As grateful as she was to have her desk, she was wondering if it had been a mistake to accept his offer of help. She’d meant what she’d told him about her house having no memories. Well, today she’d made a whole pile of them, and every last one starred Joe Marchetti.
“Okay, you can help with the dishes,” she said, her voice a husky version of her norm.
He nodded, then took two long strides to the sink where he turned on the water. He lifted a plate and started to rinse, wincing when water splashed on a nasty cut he’d acquired in the line of carpenter duty.
Liz’s bedside manner kicked into high gear. “Okay, hero, it’s time to dress that battle wound.” She reached over to shut off the faucet.
He glanced at his thumb, the slash where his screwdriver had slipped and gouged a long crevice. “It’s just a flesh wound. No big deal.”
“This is me you’re talking to. Never fear, Nancy Nurse is here. No laceration too big, too small or too challenging. Just wait here while I go get a needle and thread from my sewing kit.”
A skeptical look crossed his face just before he ever so casually stuck his hand in his pocket. “No offense, Nancy, but I’d like a little novocaine with my sutures.”
“You? Just-a-flesh-wound Marchetti?” She grinned. “Don’t be a wimp. I’ve got a turkey baster you can bite down on.” She turned away and started down the hall.
“Liz,” he called. “You really don’t have to do this.”
“You don’t want to have a big, ugly, scar marring that perfect body, do you?” Take it lightly, she thought, as she rummaged through her medicine cabinet. She carried her supplies back into the kitchen.
Joe inspected the disinfectant, ointment, and bandages she plopped down on the table. A wry expression turned up the corners of his attractive mouth. “You were pulling my leg,” he accused.
“Would I do that?”
“Yes. And take great satisfaction in making me squirm,” he added.
“I’m not kidding now, Joe, this really does need to be cleaned up. Infection can be nasty and painful. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.” She took his big hand into her smaller one.
The difference in their hands made her feel delicate and feminine to his bigger, tougher masculinity. That thought started her insides buzzing like a beehive at peak pollinating time. He had nice hands—long, strong fingers. She put the brakes on that train of thought before it could go any farther, like how those hands would feel holding her, touching her. Grabbing the brown plastic bottle of peroxide, she pulled him over to the sink.
“This won’t hurt a bit,” she said, unable to keep the twinkle from her eyes.
“You told me you’re lying when you say that,” he protested.
“Don’t be a baby. How bad can it hurt? This little scratch hardly slowed you down today.”
As she held his hand over the sink, their forearms brushed and bumped. Her breast scraped his arm and she thought he sucked in a quick gulp of air. Although she was disinfecting his wound
at the same time so she couldn’t be sure stinging pain wasn’t what had caused his reaction.
“We need to let that bubble for a bit,” she said. She liked holding his hand. She liked being close to him, and enjoyed the scent of his aftershave as it burrowed inside her and started the buzzing all over again. How long could she keep him in this position without him getting suspicious, she wondered.
She reveled in his strength. His company wasn’t bad either. He was charming and certainly not hard on the eyes.
“After we clean up the kitchen, want to watch a video?” The words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to think about them. Part of her wanted to call them back. Part of her was afraid he would turn down her offer.
“Sure,” he said.
“I just picked up a previously-viewed action thriller at the video store.”
He held up his wounded hand. “You haven’t seen enough blood today?”
“Or I have an old musical guaranteed to clear the room of testosterone in five seconds flat.”
“Let’s go with video number one. I’d hate to deprive you of your plasma quotient. Besides, if it’s new, you should check it out and make sure there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“Right,” she said, pretending to go along with his thought process. She poured a little more peroxide on his thumb. Couldn’t be too careful.
“I have something I’d like to ask you,” he said.
Her body tensed. Habit sent her to the place where she believed badly of what he was about to say. She shook off the feeling. Anger bubbled up inside her as strongly as the peroxide on Joe’s thumb. Her father and his chronic unfaithfulness had made her distrustful. She hated that he’d robbed her of the ability to meet a man without automatically assuming he was a deceptive jerk who would make a fool out of her.
“Okay. Ask away,” she said with a bright smile.
“You know my brother Nick is getting married in four weeks.”
She nodded. “A June wedding. What about it?”
“Would you like to go with me?”
She halted in the act of dabbing at the moisture on his hand. “Me?”
“Yeah. We’re friends and you would be doing me a big favor.”
“How’s that?” she asked.
“Number one, it would get the meddling Marchettis off my back. Ma never misses an opportunity to play cupid. She keeps asking me if I’m bringing anyone and uses the excuse that she needs a head count for the caterer. Number two, there’s the problem of someone to ride shotgun for me.”
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“Every wedding I’ve ever been to has an unattached female looking to go home with an unattached guy in the wedding party.”
“You’re one of the groomsmen?”
He nodded. “I’m the best man. And before you have a field day with that, it’s the traditional title, not my own comment on my character.”
She bit back a grin as she dabbed cream on his cut. “I wasn’t going to say a word.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Except that being the best man would make you the best target.” Even if he wasn’t good-looking enough to give whiplash to a parade of nuns.
He ignored her comment and continued. “Anyway, if you come along as my guest, I won’t have to worry about predatory females and I’ll be able to enjoy my brother’s wedding day.”
“Your cover?”
He thought for a moment and said, “You could say that. So how about it? Will you go with me?”
“Yes. For two reasons. Number one, I really like your family and I would very much enjoy seeing them again. Number two, you held back. You didn’t say I owe you for this whole desk thing and you easily could have. But if I can repay the favor by riding shotgun to protect your virtue, then I would be happy to.”
“Good,” he said.
After putting ointment on his hand, Liz finished up with a very large Band-Aid. She gave Joe her stern nurse look. “I’m about to give you the benefit of my medical experience in layman’s terms. Keep this booboo clean and don’t get it wet.”
He saluted. “Aye, aye. In that case, do you mind if I make a phone call?”
“Help yourself. Phone’s in the office.”
He nodded. “While I’m there, I’ll make a notation of the wedding date on your calendar.”
While he was gone, she refused to give in to suspicions of him calling another woman. He had every right to call anyone he wanted. It could just as easily be a guy he needed to touch base with. One of his brothers. It was none of her business. The jealousy spreading through her like a tidal wave could easily be explained away. Right, she thought disgusted. And maybe she would flap her arms and fly to the moon.
A few minutes later, he returned. “Did I stay gone long enough to get out of work?” he teased.
“Your timing is perfect,” she answered, folding the dishrag and settling it on the divider between the two sinks. “Now you get to relax.”
She led the way into her family room and inserted the video into the VCR. She grabbed the remote control and sat down on the sofa, too late realizing her mistake of picking her territory first. He took the spot right beside her, so close that their arms and thighs brushed. Did he feel the sparks as warmly as she did? Why couldn’t he have picked the other side of the couch, the chair across the room, or a place in another county? But she decided not to say anything to her hurt handyman. After all, he’d injured himself helping her. Not only that, she didn’t want him to think she had feelings for him other than friendship. Because she didn’t.
He released a sigh that sounded tired. “Any time you want to start the movie,” he said.
She pushed a button and watched the trailer appear on her TV screen. Joe put his arm around her. Is that what friends did? She’d dated guys and had even gotten very close to one. But no guy had ever been her friend. She had no experience at this. But again she decided protest would bring more scrutiny to her feelings than she wanted.
She concentrated on the images flashing across the screen to keep her mind off the man beside her. But the faint fragrance of fabric softener that clung to his T-shirt, the pleasant smell of his skin, the warmth of his body all combined to increase her breathing. Flutters started in her stomach and if she took her own pulse, she knew it would be elevated.
Not again, she thought. This was probably the least romantic setting she could imagine. Certainly not in the same league as the night they’d sat by the pool under the stars. But darn it, she had the same feeling now as she had then. Nary a star in sight and she wished that Joe would kiss her.
She glanced at him, a surreptitious look. What she saw made it safe to inspect him as closely as she wanted. His eyes were closed. His breathing was deep and even. His body slack and relaxed. The man was asleep!
“I didn’t mean for him to relax quite this much,” she said wryly. She waited for his eyes to open, but he didn’t move.
“I guess I’m about as exciting as dirt,” she said, resigned to the situation.
He didn’t respond.
Hurt in spite of herself, she tried to move away from him, sliding forward on the couch. He mumbled something as he leaned sideways and stretched out, his long legs hanging off the end of the sofa. When Liz tried to stand, he tightened his hold, circling her waist with his arm. She couldn’t break his grip without a struggle and that would wake him. In spite of her pique, he’d worked very hard today and she didn’t have the heart to disturb him.
“I guess we really are nothing more than friends,” she said with a big sigh.
That thought should have pleased her. Instead sadness burrowed inside her clear down to her soul. And for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why.
Chapter Seven
Joe felt movement beside him and tightened his hold on the warm, soft, curvy body snuggling there. Liz, he thought with a smile. The sensation of her next to him was incredibly pleasant, profoundly relaxing and he never wanted to move. He wanted to stay like this forever.
He felt himself drifting off again.
But a small noise got his attention and relaxation vanished in a heartbeat. Was that a sniffle?
He opened one eye. His sleep had been so deep, so peaceful it wasn’t easy to clear the cobwebs. When had he last rested so completely? He couldn’t remember.
He was on his side, Liz’s back pressed to his front, with his arm encircling her waist. The end credits of a movie scrolled by on the television. He realized he’d fallen asleep on her couch. Man what a jerk! He couldn’t go to sleep in his own top-of-the-line bed. Why her couch? But that wasn’t the worst. Was she crying?
He sat up quickly, trying not to feel guilty that he felt more refreshed and rested than he had in a very long time. “Hey.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “I hate sad endings,” he said, hoping that and not his being out for the count had produced her sniffles.
“Hey, yourself, sleepyhead. Nice try, but I’m calling your bluff. You obviously slept through the entire movie.”
“Yeah. I can’t believe I went out cold in about a second and a half. I guess the desk construction took more out of me than my pride would admit.”
She slid into the corner of the sofa and pulled her knees up to her chest. “Don’t worry about it.”
Joe didn’t miss the hurt in her eyes. He remembered her confession about her father’s carousing and recalled her question that morning when he drank his coffee. She thought he was tired because he’d been out with someone else the night before. She’d kept her voice teasing and her veneer perky. But he’d seen that it bothered her. He refused to examine too closely why anything that bothered her bothered him. He only wanted to reassure her.
“Liz?”
“Hmm?”
“I just want you to know I’m not dating anyone else.”
She had started to run a hand through her pixie hair and stopped. She went completely still. “Dating? Anyone else?”
He held his right hand up. “Scout’s honor. I didn’t believe in playing the field when I actually was looking for someone. And it was the truth when I told you I’d given up the search for a lasting relationship. I was tired this morning, but not because I was out with another woman last night.”
With a Little T.L.C. Page 8
