head. “Oh.”
In all the years she’d known him, Emma had never seen Archer without his shirt. She knew the reasons why, that he wasn’t comfortable with people seeing his scars, but she’d wondered what kind of body was under his clothing. All her sisters, Zanny, and even Sarah, had speculated. The reality was beyond words. Compared to the man’s beauty, the scars were incidental.
He had the kind of muscles typically found on a male model, and the golden hair she’d glimpsed earlier widened as it went up his chest. There was just enough of it that a woman could have fun playing with it but not enough that she would feel like she was running her fingers through a carpet. Despite the fact that as far as she knew he never took his shirt off outside, he was golden all the way to his belt. That made her wonder if his skin was warm as honey all over.
When she realized she was staring, the towel clutched to her chest and her mouth agape, she felt her cheeks heat to almost painful levels. “Sorry! Here. Um, I’ll throw your shirt in the dryer.” She snatched the T-shirt from his hands before he could respond, then fled back to the utility room. She didn’t realize the shirt was too wet to put in the dryer until she was standing there with it in her hands. Shaking herself, she wrung it out over the laundry sink.
“You okay?” Archer asked from the doorway, his expression shuttered. He was still holding the towel to his chest with one hand, using the other end to press against his soaking-wet jeans.
“Yes,” she answered too brightly. “I’m sorry. I’ll have this dry in a jiffy. If you want to take the jeans off, too…” When she realized that would leave him close to naked she gave a little whimper and tore her gaze from his chest.
The glance he sent her was puzzled. “I’m fine. Thanks, though. We should be able to pull the old faucet out now and replace it. The shut-off valve is bad but the pipes are still good. You’ll need to get it replaced at some point but it should be okay for now.” He turned and went back into the kitchen, and Emma unashamedly watched him go.
“Definitely almost as good going as he is coming,” she muttered under her breath. With a shaky sigh she turned and emptied the dryer so she could dry his shirt. “Get a hold of yourself, Emma. He’s going to think you’re an idiot.”
With the shirt drying, she girded herself to go back in the kitchen. He was so tempting she wanted to drool, and she felt like every hormone in her body had suddenly clamored to life. If Amelia didn’t get back soon with Sydney, Archer might find himself fighting for his virtue on the kitchen floor.
Chapter Eight
A rcher hid his bitter disappointment as he finished removing the old faucet. His chest wasn’t hideous but the ten-inch scar that bisected it from where they’d had to crack open his sternum during surgery wasn’t pretty. Even though Emma hadn’t recoiled in horror, her stunned reaction and the way her eyes kept coming back to the scar spoke volumes.
The front door opened and footsteps pounded up the stairs. A door slammed overhead and a second later, Amelia appeared in the doorway.
“She had to potty. What in the world happened here? Oh, my God. You’re naked. Damn, Archer.” He heard the smile in her voice before he saw it and when he turned to face her fully, her smile widened into a lascivious grin. She whistled and waved her hand in front of her face. “Emma, there’s a naked man in your kitchen!”
“I’m not naked, thank you very much,” he protested.
“Close enough. Geez, if I’d known all those muscles were under your shirts maybe I would have made a play for you.”
Emma came out from the utility room then. “I started a load of towels. Your shirt should be dry soon.”
“Forget the towels, Em. Look at the view.” She gave an exaggerated wink and leered at him with waggling eyebrows. Archer laughed helplessly in response.
“Amelia, you’re
In all the years she’d known him, Emma had never seen Archer without his shirt. She knew the reasons why, that he wasn’t comfortable with people seeing his scars, but she’d wondered what kind of body was under his clothing. All her sisters, Zanny, and even Sarah, had speculated. The reality was beyond words. Compared to the man’s beauty, the scars were incidental.
He had the kind of muscles typically found on a male model, and the golden hair she’d glimpsed earlier widened as it went up his chest. There was just enough of it that a woman could have fun playing with it but not enough that she would feel like she was running her fingers through a carpet. Despite the fact that as far as she knew he never took his shirt off outside, he was golden all the way to his belt. That made her wonder if his skin was warm as honey all over.
When she realized she was staring, the towel clutched to her chest and her mouth agape, she felt her cheeks heat to almost painful levels. “Sorry! Here. Um, I’ll throw your shirt in the dryer.” She snatched the T-shirt from his hands before he could respond, then fled back to the utility room. She didn’t realize the shirt was too wet to put in the dryer until she was standing there with it in her hands. Shaking herself, she wrung it out over the laundry sink.
“You okay?” Archer asked from the doorway, his expression shuttered. He was still holding the towel to his chest with one hand, using the other end to press against his soaking-wet jeans.
“Yes,” she answered too brightly. “I’m sorry. I’ll have this dry in a jiffy. If you want to take the jeans off, too…” When she realized that would leave him close to naked she gave a little whimper and tore her gaze from his chest.
The glance he sent her was puzzled. “I’m fine. Thanks, though. We should be able to pull the old faucet out now and replace it. The shut-off valve is bad but the pipes are still good. You’ll need to get it replaced at some point but it should be okay for now.” He turned and went back into the kitchen, and Emma unashamedly watched him go.
“Definitely almost as good going as he is coming,” she muttered under her breath. With a shaky sigh she turned and emptied the dryer so she could dry his shirt. “Get a hold of yourself, Emma. He’s going to think you’re an idiot.”
With the shirt drying, she girded herself to go back in the kitchen. He was so tempting she wanted to drool, and she felt like every hormone in her body had suddenly clamored to life. If Amelia didn’t get back soon with Sydney, Archer might find himself fighting for his virtue on the kitchen floor.
Chapter Eight
A rcher hid his bitter disappointment as he finished removing the old faucet. His chest wasn’t hideous but the ten-inch scar that bisected it from where they’d had to crack open his sternum during surgery wasn’t pretty. Even though Emma hadn’t recoiled in horror, her stunned reaction and the way her eyes kept coming back to the scar spoke volumes.
The front door opened and footsteps pounded up the stairs. A door slammed overhead and a second later, Amelia appeared in the doorway.
“She had to potty. What in the world happened here? Oh, my God. You’re naked. Damn, Archer.” He heard the smile in her voice before he saw it and when he turned to face her fully, her smile widened into a lascivious grin. She whistled and waved her hand in front of her face. “Emma, there’s a naked man in your kitchen!”
“I’m not naked, thank you very much,” he protested.
“Close enough. Geez, if I’d known all those muscles were under your shirts maybe I would have made a play for you.”
Emma came out from the utility room then. “I started a load of towels. Your shirt should be dry soon.”
“Forget the towels, Em. Look at the view.” She gave an exaggerated wink and leered at him with waggling eyebrows. Archer laughed helplessly in response.
“Amelia, you’re
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