wall and fired the thing up, running it over another patch of plaster until that shit was as smooth as a baby’s ass.
Even that couldn’t drown out the sound of her laughter, of their easy conversation. Jagger hadn’t expected rainbows and sunshine with Kate—there was too much history there, too much unsaid shit between them—but he didn’t think it would be so damned impossible. In three days of working close quarters like this, they could barely say hello without ripping each other’s heads off. But this guy saunters through the door like a world-class asshole, ready to sweep her off her feet with nothing more than that pussy-melting accent…
Just before the drywall caught fire from all the friction, the sander suddenly lost power. He turned to find Kate in the same position as before, cord dangling from her hand, frustration written all over her face.
Good.
“Are you finished?” she snapped.
“What happened to Benedict Cummed-His-Pants out there? Late for a polo match at the yacht club?”
“Seriously? Could you be any more rude?”
Jagger let out a dry laugh. “Believe me, honey. I’m just getting warmed up.” When it was clear she wouldn’t take the bait, Jagger let it go. He thumbed toward the front room, trying to keep the snarl off his face. “That guy a friend of yours, or what?”
Kate folded her arms across her chest. “Or what.”
Fucking great.
“He’s Jared Blackwell,” she finally said, exasperated.
“Fuck is Jared Blackwell?”
Kate rolled her eyes. “FierceConnect?”
Jagger shrugged. “Got nothin’. Sorry.”
“He’s the CEO of the company hosting the Valentine’s event next week. Show some respect. He’s pretty much the reason you have a job.”
“The reason I have a job, sweetheart , is the bush league assholes you hired before me fucked everything up.”
“Nice try.”
“I don’t like how he looked at you.”
Kate smirked. Fuck. Jagger hated letting her see how much she was getting to him. How much that guy was getting to him.
“Yeah?” she asked. “How was that?”
“You know how.”
“That’s rich, considering you couldn’t even see us from in here.”
“I saw enough.”
“Well guess what, Jagger Barnes. When it comes to guys looking at me, you no longer get a vote.”
“I’m just saying, he—”
“Same goes for guys coming in here to buy my coffee and pastries. Guys talking to me. Taking me out for dinner. Taking me to bed—”
“Jesus fuck .” Was she trying to send him to an early grave?
“I mean it, Jagger. You have no say in my personal life. No say in my friends, my dates, my clothing, my finances, my business affairs. Other than what’s happening with this wall?” She pounded it twice with her fist. “I don’t want your opinion or your judgment on anything. Frankly, I don’t even want to know you’re here .”
“Yeah?” Jagger laughed. “You keep telling yourself that, Miss Molina .”
“Oh, I will.” She took a step toward him, eyes blazing. “Because it’s the truth.”
“Whatever you say.”
“It is!” Another step. She was close enough that Jagger could smell her perfume.
Cinnamon and spice, everything nice.
He fought to keep his face neutral. “Fine by me.”
“Me, too!” she shouted. “It’s fine! Everything is fine!”
For the second time in ten minutes, Kate was in his space, crowding him, closing in on him, glaring at him with a look that could only mean one thing—no matter how angry she was.
Jagger lowered his eyes, forcing himself to focus on a patch of drywall that needed plastering. He may have been rusty on reading a woman’s signals, but unless his shit was totally broken…
Believe me, Kit-Kat. There’s nothing I’d love to do more than take you right here against this wall, no more talking, no questions asked.
Fuck, he was so worked up by the idea, he couldn’t stop the collision of thoughts crashing through his brain.
Kate, gasping as he shoved her hard against the
Even that couldn’t drown out the sound of her laughter, of their easy conversation. Jagger hadn’t expected rainbows and sunshine with Kate—there was too much history there, too much unsaid shit between them—but he didn’t think it would be so damned impossible. In three days of working close quarters like this, they could barely say hello without ripping each other’s heads off. But this guy saunters through the door like a world-class asshole, ready to sweep her off her feet with nothing more than that pussy-melting accent…
Just before the drywall caught fire from all the friction, the sander suddenly lost power. He turned to find Kate in the same position as before, cord dangling from her hand, frustration written all over her face.
Good.
“Are you finished?” she snapped.
“What happened to Benedict Cummed-His-Pants out there? Late for a polo match at the yacht club?”
“Seriously? Could you be any more rude?”
Jagger let out a dry laugh. “Believe me, honey. I’m just getting warmed up.” When it was clear she wouldn’t take the bait, Jagger let it go. He thumbed toward the front room, trying to keep the snarl off his face. “That guy a friend of yours, or what?”
Kate folded her arms across her chest. “Or what.”
Fucking great.
“He’s Jared Blackwell,” she finally said, exasperated.
“Fuck is Jared Blackwell?”
Kate rolled her eyes. “FierceConnect?”
Jagger shrugged. “Got nothin’. Sorry.”
“He’s the CEO of the company hosting the Valentine’s event next week. Show some respect. He’s pretty much the reason you have a job.”
“The reason I have a job, sweetheart , is the bush league assholes you hired before me fucked everything up.”
“Nice try.”
“I don’t like how he looked at you.”
Kate smirked. Fuck. Jagger hated letting her see how much she was getting to him. How much that guy was getting to him.
“Yeah?” she asked. “How was that?”
“You know how.”
“That’s rich, considering you couldn’t even see us from in here.”
“I saw enough.”
“Well guess what, Jagger Barnes. When it comes to guys looking at me, you no longer get a vote.”
“I’m just saying, he—”
“Same goes for guys coming in here to buy my coffee and pastries. Guys talking to me. Taking me out for dinner. Taking me to bed—”
“Jesus fuck .” Was she trying to send him to an early grave?
“I mean it, Jagger. You have no say in my personal life. No say in my friends, my dates, my clothing, my finances, my business affairs. Other than what’s happening with this wall?” She pounded it twice with her fist. “I don’t want your opinion or your judgment on anything. Frankly, I don’t even want to know you’re here .”
“Yeah?” Jagger laughed. “You keep telling yourself that, Miss Molina .”
“Oh, I will.” She took a step toward him, eyes blazing. “Because it’s the truth.”
“Whatever you say.”
“It is!” Another step. She was close enough that Jagger could smell her perfume.
Cinnamon and spice, everything nice.
He fought to keep his face neutral. “Fine by me.”
“Me, too!” she shouted. “It’s fine! Everything is fine!”
For the second time in ten minutes, Kate was in his space, crowding him, closing in on him, glaring at him with a look that could only mean one thing—no matter how angry she was.
Jagger lowered his eyes, forcing himself to focus on a patch of drywall that needed plastering. He may have been rusty on reading a woman’s signals, but unless his shit was totally broken…
Believe me, Kit-Kat. There’s nothing I’d love to do more than take you right here against this wall, no more talking, no questions asked.
Fuck, he was so worked up by the idea, he couldn’t stop the collision of thoughts crashing through his brain.
Kate, gasping as he shoved her hard against the
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