do,” she said, continuing to separate her books according to subject matter: general fiction, non-fiction, how-tos, exercise-related, classic literature...
“Can I read some of it sometime?” he asked.
“That’s a pretty serious request from someone who hasn’t actually taken me on a date yet,” she said. “So, no.”
He looked surprised but amused. “Have it your way. I’ll try after our fifth date.”
She ignored his comment and focused on her organization.
After a few moments, Luke paused in his sorting. “ Independent Woman ... Freedom from Men and Lies ... How to Lose Men and Stay Man-Free ...” He looked up at her, confusion written across his face. “You’re pretty serious about staying away from guys.”
She shrugged. “Yeah. Trust me; I didn’t make the decision because things were peachy. Bad experience after bad experience gets the lesson through.”
Luke looked hard at her; she could practically feel his gaze cutting a hole through her heart. “Not all guys are bad.”
His implication weighed heavily on her—he was tacitly asking her to take a chance on him. Well, she wasn’t going to. “That may be true. But all the good ones are either taken or not interested in me.”
“Are you trying to say I’m a bad guy, then?”
She looked at him sharply. “I don’t know about you yet.”
He was silent for a moment as he shelved her books. “You could take a chance.”
“I’ve taken too many chances. But thanks for the offer.” Isabella let a moment of silence pass. “So where’d you learn to do woodwork like this?”
His eyes lit up. He leaned back on his heels as he looked at the bookcase. “It’s sort of a family trade. All my uncles have been doing it their whole lives, and I got into it when I was really young. I don’t really get the chance to do it too often these days. You’re the first customer I’ve had in awhile where I’ve even had the chance.”
“So this is something you do for your clients?”
“Nah, I just sort of try to see what people need and give it to them.” He winked at her, the beginning of a smile on his lips. “I had this material left over. And it’s a really nice wood; I can’t just toss it. Plus, you being such a smarty pants, I figured you might like it.”
Her cheeks burned as they shelved the rest of her books, her mind racing as she mulled over the interesting facets of the man beside her. He cooked, he was thoughtful, and he could build with his hands. Not to mention the other obvious qualities the guy had. When Isabella stood up, she said, “We can have a nice night out tonight. Just a harmless, friendly date.”
He stood up and pressed himself close to her, the familiar haze of passion darkening his eyes. “But I don’t want it to be just friendly.”
She steeled herself against his advance, trying to block out the feel of his body against hers. The image of him between her legs, rubbing those juicy, pink lips against her skin, sprang to her mind. She didn’t know what to say to him. As she opened her mouth to speak, he whispered, “But, of course, if that’s what you want, that’s what it’ll be.” Before he pulled himself away, he brushed his fingertips over her cheek.
“Great. Then we understand each other,” she muttered, struggling to recall what was so wrong with him touching her.
“I’ll be back in an hour—how does that sound?” He picked up his tools again and started for the door. “Then we can have our nice... friendly ...date.” He winked at her as he pulled the door shut behind him.
***
An hour later, Isabella put the finishing touches on her makeup. She smoothed down her short, black skirt, adjusted the tight-fitting, cleavage-baring top she’d chosen, and slipped her feet into a pair of heels. She spritzed herself with her sexy-smelling perfume and headed downstairs.
She’d curled her hair a little bit to give it volume. She tousled it slightly, smacking her lips in the mirror. Butterflies
“Can I read some of it sometime?” he asked.
“That’s a pretty serious request from someone who hasn’t actually taken me on a date yet,” she said. “So, no.”
He looked surprised but amused. “Have it your way. I’ll try after our fifth date.”
She ignored his comment and focused on her organization.
After a few moments, Luke paused in his sorting. “ Independent Woman ... Freedom from Men and Lies ... How to Lose Men and Stay Man-Free ...” He looked up at her, confusion written across his face. “You’re pretty serious about staying away from guys.”
She shrugged. “Yeah. Trust me; I didn’t make the decision because things were peachy. Bad experience after bad experience gets the lesson through.”
Luke looked hard at her; she could practically feel his gaze cutting a hole through her heart. “Not all guys are bad.”
His implication weighed heavily on her—he was tacitly asking her to take a chance on him. Well, she wasn’t going to. “That may be true. But all the good ones are either taken or not interested in me.”
“Are you trying to say I’m a bad guy, then?”
She looked at him sharply. “I don’t know about you yet.”
He was silent for a moment as he shelved her books. “You could take a chance.”
“I’ve taken too many chances. But thanks for the offer.” Isabella let a moment of silence pass. “So where’d you learn to do woodwork like this?”
His eyes lit up. He leaned back on his heels as he looked at the bookcase. “It’s sort of a family trade. All my uncles have been doing it their whole lives, and I got into it when I was really young. I don’t really get the chance to do it too often these days. You’re the first customer I’ve had in awhile where I’ve even had the chance.”
“So this is something you do for your clients?”
“Nah, I just sort of try to see what people need and give it to them.” He winked at her, the beginning of a smile on his lips. “I had this material left over. And it’s a really nice wood; I can’t just toss it. Plus, you being such a smarty pants, I figured you might like it.”
Her cheeks burned as they shelved the rest of her books, her mind racing as she mulled over the interesting facets of the man beside her. He cooked, he was thoughtful, and he could build with his hands. Not to mention the other obvious qualities the guy had. When Isabella stood up, she said, “We can have a nice night out tonight. Just a harmless, friendly date.”
He stood up and pressed himself close to her, the familiar haze of passion darkening his eyes. “But I don’t want it to be just friendly.”
She steeled herself against his advance, trying to block out the feel of his body against hers. The image of him between her legs, rubbing those juicy, pink lips against her skin, sprang to her mind. She didn’t know what to say to him. As she opened her mouth to speak, he whispered, “But, of course, if that’s what you want, that’s what it’ll be.” Before he pulled himself away, he brushed his fingertips over her cheek.
“Great. Then we understand each other,” she muttered, struggling to recall what was so wrong with him touching her.
“I’ll be back in an hour—how does that sound?” He picked up his tools again and started for the door. “Then we can have our nice... friendly ...date.” He winked at her as he pulled the door shut behind him.
***
An hour later, Isabella put the finishing touches on her makeup. She smoothed down her short, black skirt, adjusted the tight-fitting, cleavage-baring top she’d chosen, and slipped her feet into a pair of heels. She spritzed herself with her sexy-smelling perfume and headed downstairs.
She’d curled her hair a little bit to give it volume. She tousled it slightly, smacking her lips in the mirror. Butterflies
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