“All right, Jeremy, time to get started.” Will reached into a large wooden crate set against the wall. “We’ll work on the firewall first. That’s the panel protecting the cockpit.”
“I remember, Will.” Jeremy followed him back to the workbench, where the long piece of metal was laid out, its top curved.
What had she felt?
Harper thought of Will’s teasing and the feel of his body against her back. Every hard inch of it. His nearness had turned her insides to liquid. The final photo Jeremy snapped had exposed a woman flushed with desire. She’d looked—and felt—wanton. Sexual. Wild. And very willing. Way too willing, especially since she hadn’t even decided yet whether to let him make good on any of his wicked intentions.
The possessive arm Will had put around her after he’d signed the contract had clearly stated that he knew how tempted she was. And he’d had no qualms about letting his friend know it, too—as if she were some sort of conquest.
God. She must seem so easy to him. To both of them. Take her to dinner, flash around a little money, throw out a few sexy caresses—and she was about to cave.
“This is a fan spacer.” Will laid the accordion-style metal tool against the edge of a ruler he’d placed along the sheet’s edge. “We use it to make sure the rivet holes are equally spaced.” He fanned the spacer, a series of crisscrossed metal strips that could be adjusted, with a small hole at the end of each piece. As Will pulled, the spacers widened. “That measures one inch. Now we use a spring-loaded punch to mark where we’re going to drill. Like this.” Jeremy craned to watch as Will punched a small, sharp tool through each of the equidistant spacers.
Still fuming, Harper clicked off a shot of the work in progress as Jeremy happily wrote it down in his journal. Even though her brother was with them, she pulled a stool away from the wall near the workbench, and asked, “Did your friend Evan get whatever message you were trying to send him?” Fortunately, Jeremy was too interested in what he was doing to pay attention.
Will looked up at her, his eyes far more guileless than they deserved to be. She and Will had seen each other only a handful of times, yet she already knew that look. His lips curved up slightly, and he had a knowing spark in his eye.
“What message was that?” Before she could answer, he handed Jeremy the sharp tool, which resembled a skinny screwdriver. “You try now.”
Jeremy bit his lip, concentrating hard as he took over the task. “Yeah, just like that, you’ve got it,” Will praised him. “All we’re doing right now is marking with a little hole. Then we’ll drill.”
She took another picture, determined not to let Will off the hook just because he was so sweet with her brother. “When you put your arm around me and started playing with my hair.”
Will didn’t look at all apologetic as he said, “He wasn’t the one I was trying to send a message to.”
His bold words—words that all but screamed how much he wanted her—shouldn’t have sent heat rushing through her. But they did. Crazy heat. Just the way all of his bold intentions had in her kitchen.
She could feel herself flushing as Will focused on the car again and said to her brother, “We’re going to move the spacer along now and make our marks all the way to the end.”
A short while later, Jeremy held the press tool high in the air like an athlete who’d just run a marathon, and said, “I’m done.”
Will inspected the work. “A perfect job. I couldn’t have done better myself.”
Jeremy did a happy dance and emotion blossomed in her heart. No matter how conflicted Will might make her feel, he was good for Jeremy.
Her brother suddenly said, “I gotta pee.”
“Down there.” Will hooked a thumb past a long row of shelves and cupboards, and Jeremy raced to the bathroom as if he’d suddenly realized he might not make it in time.
Literally the second the door closed behind him, Will was standing right in front of her, pulling her up, pushing the stool she sat on back against the wall, and framing her head with his hands. His he-man act shot a forbidden thrill right through her—the same forbidden thrill she felt with him every single time, whether it was smart of her or not.
Her mouth was suddenly dry as she looked up at him, her breath coming fast.
“You don’t like it when I touch you in front of anyone else?” He dipped his face into the crook of her neck, his breath warm on her skin. “You don’t like them thinking you’re mine?”
Oh God. She could barely process what he was saying when he was this close to her, not quite kissing her, but heating her up all over just the same. “I’m—” She worked to gather enough oxygen, and brain cells, to be able to tell him, “I’m not yours.”