Page 38 of The Wish List
As usual, the infuriating man had some sort of sixth sense where she was concerned. He stopped and turned as she came toward him, although he didn’t remove his earbuds. His eyes roamed over her, and she had a small measure of satisfaction when his nostrils flared. That was the only outward sign he gave that she was basically wearing the equivalent of a slip.
“Business meeting today?” he asked conversationally as he pulled the earbud out of his right ear. The tinny sound of classic rock echoed in the silence between them.
She would have made a fabulous eighties video vixen and had the sudden urge to pose on the back of the couch like it was a classic Chevy Camaro.
Only that would make her look like she was trying too hard, and she was already bordering on desperate.
“I was interviewed for an entertainment show this morning. They’re doing a segment on celebrities and their favorite holiday traditions. We each had to share ours.”
He studied her. “Did your tradition involve downing eggnog shots at a trashy Vegas nightclub?”
Direct hit.
Was she mistaken or were the tips of Greer’s ears turning pink? Maybe he wasn’t as unaffected by her as she’d first believed. She didn’t bother mentioning that she’d put on a conservative red blazer over her nude mini dress for the interview. It was none of his business that Freya had given up dressing provocatively several years ago.
To each her own, but she felt more comfortable without revealing much skin. She’d retained a few key pieces from her more outlandish wardrobe. They came in handy for certain types of events.
“Are you slut shaming me?” she asked. She pushed one hip forward, posing like she would on the red carpet.
“I don’t think you’re a slut,” he answered with an earnestness that made it hard to swallow around the emotion in her throat. “You have nothing to be ashamed about.”
She frowned. It wasn’t true. There were plenty of things she could think of that brought down the weight of shame on her. She wasn’t going to admit it to Greer. “Do you need a hand?”
He stared at her for several seconds then inclined his head. “You could hold the end of this board while I measure it.”
Freya blinked. She’d expected him to dismiss her offer. Her plan was to make a bit of a scene then retreat upstairs to put on some comfortable clothes before starting on her projects for the day.
Of course she hadn’t thought that he’d want help. He never seemed to want her anywhere near him. She certainly wasn’t prepared to go there in a skintight sheath. If she were going to help Greer, it would be with layers of denim and flannel between them.
He had the denim part down but wore a short-sleeve T-shirt like the cool morning air didn’t affect him. Because she knew he couldn’t be wearing short sleeves because he wanted to show off his muscles to her, impressive as they were.
“Unless you’d like to slip into something more comfortable,” he suggested.
“I can help you in this,” she said. There was no way she would let him fluster her.
She started to approach cautiously, feeling a bit like a deer in the crosshairs of a hungry wolf.
Then she gave herself a mental headshake. Freya had never been a baby deer in her life. She would say she’d never been afraid of anything, but that wasn’t true. She just knew how to hide the fear and would do that with Greer as well.
Not that she thought he would take advantage of her or try anything funny the way plenty of men had in the past. He was way too honorable, and there was the pesky uncertainty whether he even found her attractive.
No. Greer wouldn’t put the moves on her because he was a stand-up guy. Somehow her mother had found an agent who cared about her. In Hollywood, Freya had started to believe those types of people were as rare as unicorns, which was to say nonexistent.
He scared her. She’d never made good men a priority in her life, but he made her want to. This town made her want to, which was why she couldn’t stay here, even for Trinity.
She sashayed over and lifted her arms wide, knowing the stance would put her breasts on full display. What she was doing was wrong, using her body like a weapon. She hated that part of Hollywood and chided herself for now stooping so low.
But it didn’t make her stop.
He chuckled at her movements like she was an entertaining toddler. She would eventually find a way to make this man treat her like a woman.
“Keep the end steady while I measure.”
She grabbed the piece of wood, letting her mind wander to the edits she was doing on her manuscript. There was no point in toying with Greer anymore today. She’d just end up embarrassing herself. But she’d gotten to a problematic point in plotting the mystery thread and had woken up early with her mind churning through ways to fix it.
Now she let her brain go back there. Maybe she could add another red herring or draw out the clues. She was so involved in thoughts about her book that she didn’t notice how close Greer stood. Then, like a rush of warm water, his scent cascaded over her until she felt like she was drowning in it.
Suddenly, Freya wished she had fewer clothes on. She would have preferred Greer to be buck naked. She could imagine how his skin would feel against hers. Even though the spicy, wild, yet somehow restrained scent of him was all around her, she wanted to lean closer and breathe him in more deeply.
