Page 27 of Her Rugged Guardian

“Yes.” The single word lingered as he took a gulp, closing his eyes as if in reverence of the liquid inside the glass.

His actions were far too seductive and I took a sip if for no other reason than to hide behind the drink, buying me some time.We were too close, but I couldn’t seem to budge an inch. His presence had a crazy effect on me, one so unnerving that I wasn’t certain I could remember how to breathe.

He held the glass into the air, nodding as if in reverence. “When I finished a job, your mother always offered me a glass of her favorite scotch, Macallan.”

“She was always the consummate host,” I said absently.

“She was a lovely woman.”

“What did you mean when you said she offered you the shirt off her back?”

His eyes lit up, but not with happiness, yet it was impossible not to be mesmerized by them. “I was having a bad day and she kept me company, refusing to allow me to go home.”

I sensed the memory was one he’d rather forget so I dropped it.

“I had no idea my mother even drank scotch.” The admission was as tough as everything else had been.

“It sounds like you didn’t know a lot about your mother.”

“You’re right,” I told him. “I didn’t. After my parents’ divorce, she changed significantly. I think that bothered me for some crazy reason.”

“It’s understandable, Cassandra. We often want to think of our parents a certain way. When they change, we feel alienated.”

“Yeah. I just don’t know why she went to the extreme.”

“Maybe because she was allowing herself to be happy. Sometimes that’s tough.” Why did I have the distinct feeling he knew that personally?

I hadn’t realized he’d inched even closer, so much so that his scent seemed to paint my skin, lingering to the point I was swaying slightly from the musky fragrance. He wasn’t wearing aftershave, the man all male. There was a hint of sweat mixing with the fresh odor of unpolluted rain. The combination was irresistible.

Another moment of awkwardness settled in. I’d never been at a loss for words. I was quick on my feet, coming up with slogans in the blink of an eye to save an account. I’d done that dozens of times, but this man thwarted all my strengths, tossing them aside as if I was a damsel in distress.

I also wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of girl but at that moment it would seem everything I’d known about myself was tossed out the window. Unable to resist, I fingered the scars on his arm, brushing the tip ever so gently down by a few inches. When he bristled, I pulled my hand away, laughing as nervously as before if not even more. He made me weak in the knees. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m ugly, Cassandra, but your touch doesn’t hurt me. In fact, it does the opposite.”

His chest rose and fell once again and as I lifted my gaze, I could see tremendous pain in his eyes. “You’re not ugly, Jake. You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met.” The words were easy to say. Even still, it surprised me that I’d said them. The strange precipice we were on was getting closer.

“Yet you think I’m bad at what I do, which is why you wanted to talk to me. Right?”

“Um, not bad. You’re actually very good at what you do.” Every sound leaving my mouth was ridiculously shallow, but it was the yin to his yang of heavy breathing.

“You think so,” he mumbled, the heat of his body more explosive than before.

“Uh-huh. What else are you good at?”

He lifted a single eyebrow, and I knew the moment he accepted the challenge. “Putting out fires.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Just ask any of my friends.”

“Okay. Maybe I will. What else?” I wanted to touch him, to slide my fingertips across every inch of his body as he did with mine. There was something deliriously filthy about not knowing much about him yet longing to experience every inch of him in the most biblical sense.

“Making women come for hours.”

“That’s not possible.” More than a subtle thrill coursed through me.

“You wanna try?”

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