she’d offered Wil her water bottle. When Wil had stepped close to take it, she smelled like sweat and sawdust, and Jillian wondered why that should be such an arousing combination.
Now she had to remind herself why she should just hurry up and get the house done and sold, and move on. Certainly, in the beginning flirting with Wil had been a nice distraction, and the sex—God, the sex had been incredible. But then she’d hurt Wil’s feelings, though Wil had hidden it under anger, and things had become complicated. When their interaction was no longer a fun flirtation, she saw no point in carrying on, because it wasn’t as if she intended to move to rural Tennessee and set up housekeeping with Wil Johnson. Though her time there was a nice break from her life, she just wasn’t a small-town girl. Nor could she imagine Wil flourishing in her world back in Cincinnati.
She forced Wil from her mind and concentrated instead on her plans for the house, plotting again the changes she still wanted to make. She’d checked some comps in the area and had worked out her projected asking price. After reviewing Wil’s schedule, she’d also set a tentative date for an open house.
Two hours later, her arms ached, but she’d nearly finished the first coat. That weather guy hadn’t been joking. She took off her shirt, leaving only a tank top, and wiped a towel over her neck and chest. It wasn’t even noon yet and the room was already stifling. She opened the kitchen window and a breeze swept in, pushing out the chemical smell of the paint and cooling her damp skin.
Before she could linger for long, she prodded herself back to work. Wil had only given her the one day for painting before her crew reclaimed the kitchen. Jillian sighed as her thoughts circled back to Wil, and she put a bit more muscle behind the roller to stave off the distraction.
*
“Andy, hand me that pipe wrench,” Wil said over her shoulder and held her arm out behind her. The cool metal handle was pushed into her hand. “Thanks.”
Wil suspected the house had once had the heavy porcelain fixtures of its era, but at some point, the master bath had undergone a renovation. A stock vanity sink and a fiberglass tub and shower shell had been installed, probably in an effort to save money. The changes Jillian wanted to make would bring back some of the classic styles and add a few new trends. So while Andy and Tracy removed the shower, Wil disconnected the pipes that supplied the sink.
“Are you having any problems with that?” When she received no response, she glanced over her shoulder and found she was now alone in the room.
The showerhead and knobs lay on the floor, but other than that, it appeared little progress had been made. Wil didn’t have to look very far for the two women. As she stepped out of the room she found both Andy and Tracy standing in the hallway and peeking into the kitchen.
As Wil approached quietly, Andy gave a low whistle. “So much for prim and proper.”
“What are you—” As Wil looked around the doorjamb, her brain ceased to function. Jillian stood with her back to them, paint roller in hand. Her cutoff denim shorts ended just below the curve of her ass, leaving long legs exposed all the way down to her bare feet. When she stretched to reach the upper part of the wall, her ribbed tank top pulled tight. The muscles in her calves bunched as she rose to her tiptoes, and Wil imagined tracing her fingers down them, then taking one of those perfectly shaped feet in her hands. Busy enjoying the view, Wil was slow to realize that Andy and Tracy still stood beside her.
“Aren’t you two supposed to be taking out that shower?” Wil snapped.
Andy’s eyes never left Jillian, so she didn’t see Wil’s glare. “Are you kidding? And miss this—” She looked at Wil and choked off her words. “Uh, yeah. We’re going.”
“You don’t want Patti to catch you ogling Jillian, anyway,” Tracy teased as they headed for
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