Physical Distraction (The Physical Series Book 3) Page 3

  Shaking her head to clear away her errant thoughts, Sloane grabbed her notepad and pen, walking out the door with an audible sigh. She had bigger things to accomplish with Dylan than the non-existent possibility of getting in his pants. No matter how appealing that sounded at the moment.

  ###

  “So how long do you think the electrical updates and modifications will take?”

  They’d just finished the brief tour of the backrooms, kitchen and main room, Dylan taking notes along the way, muttering to himself as he perused the work space. During the run-through, Sloane stole furtive glances whenever she was behind him, letting her eyes wander over his muscular body, roving up and down his broad back, admiring the trim waist, and the perfect curve of his jeans-covered ass.

  At one point, his shirt had come untucked when Dylan had reached up toward the ceiling. For a brief moment, Sloane stood slack-jawed as she caught a sinful view of a tribal tattoo wrapped around the side of his torso. She’d also noticed what looked to be some sort of a military emblem on his left bicep, just hidden under the cuff of his shirt sleeve.

  It seemed strange for a tattoo to cause that kind of commotion within her, since tatted-up men had never given her pause before. Her type had always been the clean-cut, college-educated, khaki-and-loafer-wearing boys. Yet there was no denying that Dylan ignited her spark. Revved her engines. Turned her into a puddle of goo whenever he spoke, his voice caramel-coated in his thick Boston accent.

  They’d returned to the front bar area, chatting about general topics related to the bar, as Dylan placed his notebook down on the counter in front of him.

  Scratching his stubble-lined jaw, he assessed and considered the details he’d just gathered. Sloane watched with fascination, wanting to feel the rough texture against her own hand.

  “It looks like we’re going to have to rip out all the old wiring, replace it, along with the heating and cooling unit. And with the remodel you plan on doing, adding the new light fixtures over the bar and the pool table area and the kitchen, I’m thinking at least four weeks. Give or take.” He shrugged noncommittally.

  Sloane obviously had no earthly idea if that was typical for that type of job. She hated being so naïve about these things.

  “Oh. Okay. I guess that seems logical,” she said, making notes on her pad of paper. “When would the work take place? I obviously have a business to run and can’t just shut things down.” She moved behind the bar to fill up a mug of coffee that was just brewed, offering one to Dylan who just shook his head.

  “If the power is off, I’ll have to figure out a way to keep the kegs cool, along with the perishable food in our kitchen. And my kitchen manager will blow a gasket if he can’t cook.”

  Sloane was amazed at how quickly she’d caught on to the nuances of bar management, and had learned a lot from Jerry, and her kitchen manager, Curtis, in just over a week. She didn’t want to do anything that would freak them out or make them think she was incompetent. But she had no idea how they’d manage things if the power was off for any period of time. They’d have to discuss renting a generator to ensure nothing spoiled or went bad in the process.

  Sloane sat down next to Dylan on the bar stool, her fingers tapping the side of her coffee mug. Dylan toyed with a water bottle he’d carried with him during the tour, flicking the drops of condensation off with his thumb. She was trying to keep her hands occupied so she wouldn’t be tempted to rub against the beautiful scruff of his beard that she was dying to touch.

  Just as she thought she’d gotten her nerves under control, Dylan leaned in, hovering close to her body, reading over the notes he’d scribbled on their walk-through. His masculine scent filled her senses, fanning her need to touch him even further.

  Sloane covertly watched him out of the corner of her eye. His strong jaw clenched tight in concentration, his deep hazel eyes framed by dark lashes which scanned the paper between them. Caught off guard when Dylan’s gaze turned to her, Sloane jerked back abruptly, sending the contents of her coffee cup splashing over the edge and down her shirt.

  “Shit!” she cursed, glancing down at her T-shirt that was now dotted with hot, black liquid. She gave him an embarrassed smile. “That was smooth.”

  The laugh that had burst from her throat was stopped abruptly when Dylan’s hands reached out with a napkin to blot the spots across her chest. With a deer in the headlight daze, Sloane’s eyes darted between Dylan’s face, her breasts where his fingers lingered, and then back again to his eyes.

  Holy shit, he was touching her. Touching her breasts, no less.

  Dylan apparently realized the same thing in that same moment, as his fingers stilled, moving only by the slow in-and-out momentum of her breaths, her chest rising and falling in time with her heartbeat. Clarity rushed her brain, the awkwardness of the situation bringing a stinging blush to her cheeks, as she gradually regained her sensibilities. Sloane calmly removed the napkin from his hand, replacing it with her own.

  He blinked, clearing his throat before swinging his head in the opposite direction.

  “You should probably rub some club soda on that right away so it doesn’t stain.” His voice was tight and clipped.

  Interesting that his first response wasn’t an apology for touching her, but a household remedy for removing a stain. Maybe Dylan came across this situation a lot. Women who threw beverages across their chests so that he’d innocently cop a feel.

  Sloane was pretty blessed in the cleavage department, and it was damn hard not to notice her girls. So she was fairly confident that Dylan got a good feel, and now had a pretty clear idea just what was underneath her shirt. Just the thought of him touching her again had her nipples hardening instantly, pebbling against the cup of her bra, poking through the lace push-up through the lightweight T-shirt material.

  Swiveling on the stool, she jumped off, rounding the end of the bar to grab a dishrag and bottle of club soda.

  She caught his penetrating gaze when she got the nerve to look back up at him from the other side of the bar. His face showed no outward emotion, but his eyes told her everything. The heat and desire pooled there was so palpable she wanted to yank off her shirt and lay naked in front of him so he could lick her from head to toe.

  An involuntary shiver ran down her spine, as she watched his gaze roam from her face to her chest and then back up again, settling directly on her eyes.

  Stammering and trying to find a way to extract herself from the heaviness of the air around them, she said, “I – I need to go in back and take care of this. I’ll be right back.”

  Moving swiftly behind the bar, Sloane headed toward the back hallway into her office where she’d be able to breathe. Pushing the door open, she made the mistake of peeking back at Dylan, who was still sitting stoically in the stool, but his dark eyes had followed her, letting her know, in no uncertain terms, that he liked what he saw.

  Oh my God!

  Shutting the door behind her, she slumped against it, her limbs tingly and weighted down, as if she were sinking in quicksand. Sloane closed her eyes with a heavy sigh. This was so inconvenient. And embarrassing! She just made an absolute fool of herself acting like a nervous Nelly in front of Dylan. If this is how she acted on Day One of their working relationship, what the hell would she be like for the next month or more?

  Yanking the dirty shirt up and over her head in frustration, Sloane stood breathless, her breasts still alight with an ache where his hands had just touched. Where she wanted to feel his hands again.

  Goddammit. Dylan Hemmons was definitely going to be a distraction over the weeks ahead.

  But maybe he was exactly the type of distraction she needed.

  Chapter Three

  If there were two kinds of men in the world – tits or ass men – then Dylan would definitely be lumped in with the other boob-guys. He loved women’s tits. Big, small. Real or fake. It didn’t matter to him, as long as he could lavish them with attention.

  Those thoughts ran through his he
ad, like a motherfucking escaped convict on the run, when he accidentally felt Sloane’s full, round tits heaving under his touch. While it had been brief, Dylan felt her nipples pebble and strain against the lace of her bra. Yes, he felt the lace, and he wanted nothing more than to trace it with his fingertips and tongue. And just like that he’d hardened to epic proportions. At a potential client’s job site, for God’s sake.

  He’d have shocked the shit out of her if she’d known what images his perverted brain had conjured up in that moment. Dylan imagined slipping her T-shirt off her body, leaning her back against the bar and taking those incredible breasts in his palms, lavishing them in wet, hot kisses. Tweaking her nipples with his fingertips, and then pulling the taught buds between his teeth, nipping and biting her flesh as she arched against his straining erection.

  Shit, he had to get a hold of these crazy thoughts before it drove him insane with want. He had to reign in his lustful desire in the event that, by some miracle, Sloane chose Hemmons & Son to complete her business remodel.

  Thankfully, while Sloane had been in the back office changing, it had given Dylan time to readjust himself in his pants, and get his thoughts back on track. So that once Sloane returned to the bar wearing a clean T-shirt, they were able to finish reviewing his suggestions and thoughts on the proposal, without fear she’d get scared off with the wood he was sporting.

  “I think it’s a pretty straight-forward redesign project, barring any unexpected glitches we find once we start digging,” he said, placing a pencil behind his ear, his habit since grade school. “I’m estimating about four weeks, like I said, and I think we can get most of the work done in the mornings before you open. Unless someone is here around 5:50 a.m. every morning, we’d need a key to get in and out before you open for the day.”

  Sloane nodded her head, taking a moment to reflect and think through the plans. A pregnant pause filled the space between them as she looked into his eyes with a sheepish smile.

  “It sounds good, Dylan. But can I have some time to review your proposal? I’m sure you understand that I’ll need to ask for some additional bids.”

  She seemed hesitant, almost nervous around him now. Unlike the first time he’d met her, when she was full of piss and vinegar, confident and sure of herself. Dylan gave her a reassuring nod, happy to know she was playing the part of a good business owner. Not like he was going to dick her around or screw her over with the job, but she’d be a fool not to check on other contracting services and gain some references.

  Dylan stood, lifting up the baseball cap he wore and slid his hands through his hair before placing it back on his head. He enjoyed how she watched the movement of his hands before turning her head to look away, seemingly embarrassed to be caught staring at him.

  Sloane’s hair was pulled high on top of her head in a messy bun, a few loose strands falling around the sides of her face, curtaining her sleek nose and high cheekbones from his view. Her hand moved to touch her mouth, her graceful fingers tapping against her plump lower lip. Dylan’s thoughts instantly filled with lecherous greed – wondering what those lips would taste like, or feel wrapped around his cock.

  Clearing his throat and grabbing the jacket he’d flung across the back of the bar stool earlier, Dylan stepped back, allowing her room to stand up next to him. The top of her head barely met the underside of his chin, the few inches separating their bodies enough for him to take in the sweet floral scent of her shampoo. Or perfume. Or whatever the hell she wore. All he knew was that it smelled incredible and did crazy things to his senses.

  “Absolutely,” he confirmed, taking another step forward so she had to tilt her head to look him in his eyes. It was a complete alpha move, and he felt like a dick, but it turned him on. He got a sick thrill from that dominating stature and her compliance to it.

  “I think it’s a good idea for you to get a few opinions and proposals for the job. That’s a good business practice. Take your time with it, but please let me know if you have questions. I’ll send you the estimate and bid by the end of the week. You can get back to me when you’ve had a chance to review it and compare it against our competitors.”

  Dylan slid on his jacket, his hand accidentally brushing the side of her hip as he did. He had to place a hand on the stool behind him to steady his stance to keep upright. He hissed out a low curse, his eyes pinning her wide-eyed, mocha-colored gaze.

  Sloane swayed ever-so-slightly, taking a minute step back to lean against the bar. Nodding her head, a gentle smile stretching across her face, she reached out her hand toward him.

  “Great. Perfect. Thank you,” she stammered a little awkwardly, shaking his hand with exuberant force. Dylan gave a low chuckle, holding on to her hand a bit longer than necessary. “Thanks for meeting with me today, Dylan. I’ll call you in a few days.”

  ###

  Dylan stared down at the chunks of hair that littered an otherwise gleaming marble tiled kitchen floor of his sister and brother-in-law’s house.

  “Geez, Karma. How do you manage to shed that much fur and still keep a thick coat?” he asked the German shepherd laying at his feet, innocently exposing her belly in a silent request for a rub. It wasn’t like he expected any sort of response from her, but he knew the dog understood what he meant.

  Karma was a sweet and lovable dog, so when Rylie asked him if he could take on house and pet sitting duty while she and Mitch took their delayed honeymoon to Spain, Dylan had accepted immediately. But for a single guy used to living alone, taking care of a dog every day and being held to a daily routine was definitely something new for him. Not that he didn’t enjoy it, but having to be home at a specific time to take care of another living being was throwing him for a loop.

  While it felt different, and a little weird, to have someone waiting at home for him, he had to admit that it was kind of nice. There was comfort in the fact that he could come home after a long day and someone, or in this case, something, greeted him with exuberant joy on his return.

  It was especially nice to have that comfort based on the crazy day he had. Technically, his day hadn’t been too different from every other day in his job as an electrician. He and his crew had three scheduled jobs they were working on – two commercial and one residential. No huge headaches or hassles to contend with, just the normal, everyday workday.

  Until he had the scheduled walk-through at Fitzgerald’s.

  Dylan was used to working with electricity. But the charge in the atmosphere while he was in Sloane’s presence? Un-fucking-believable. His body was so amped during that hour with her, you could have plugged him in to the city power grid, and he’d have been able to light up the entire town of Boston for a week.

  It wasn’t a surprise that he was attracted to Sloane. He’d found her gorgeous from the first time they met. What did surprise him, though, was the level of attraction he’d felt for Sloane. The intensity of it nearly knocked him off his feet.

  Dylan had hoped his initial reaction the night he met her was an anomaly. Before meeting with her again, he’d considered that maybe she wasn’t really as beautiful as he remembered her. Maybe her golden locks weren’t as soft and silky as he thought. Or that her smile and laugh didn’t make his insides go wonky. Or maybe that her body wasn’t as tight and svelte in the daytime light as it was in the lowlight of evening after a few beers.

  But no such luck. Sloane was everything he remembered her to be and more. The minute he’d shook her hand, the electricity between them crackled. Heat surrounded them. An invisible fire on a low-burn when he was in her presence.

  Her sweet scent enveloped him. At one point, when they were squished together in the small confines of a back supply room, where the only light came from a dim, hanging lightbulb, he had to grip his tool belt to keep his hands to himself. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be liable for what he did to her in that small, dark space.

  Dylan barely escaped the walk-through with Sloane unscathed. And then all hell broke loose which seriously had him questio
ning his sanity when she accidentally spilled her coffee all down her white T-shirt.

  Holy shit. How the hell he maintained his control could only have been chalked up to his military training. The restraint required in combat situations, where it was mind over matter in the harshest and deadliest of conditions.

  Yet even so, Dylan couldn’t have stopped his hands from going to her breasts even if he’d tried. It seemed logical to him at the time, even a bit chivalrous in his mind, to help her clean up the spill. Right? Wasn’t that how a gentleman acted?

  But hell. He’d never been a gentleman his entire life. And the dark, hot liquid that spilled across her chest was the same hot liquid that coursed through his veins, straight down to his dick when he touched her. Dylan had only acted upon impulse, and with no other intent than to wipe the spillage from her shirt. But when he felt the lush warmth of her breasts underneath the thin material of her T-shirt, all his good intent flew out the window.

  Now standing in the kitchen of his sister’s new house filling up a dog food bowl with Karma’s dinner, Dylan mentally chastised himself for leaving Sloane at the bar so quickly. He should have stayed and had a beer, if only to be in her company just a little longer. To find out more about this sexy new business owner. To dig more into the connection that was there between them.

  Because there was sure-as-shit something about Sloane that made him want to be in her presence. She was not only gorgeous, but also possessed some other deeper quality he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  Dylan did know, based on what he’d learned so far, that she was strong and independent. She didn’t back down from challenges. She didn’t hesitate to learn something new, as evidenced by her taking on a piece-of-shit bar and trying to turn it around. Yet there was also an innocence to her as well. He’d seen it when she gave him that shy smile while they spoke about the bid process. A vulnerability, perhaps, that made him want to throw his arms around her and hold her tight, making her forget whatever things had occurred in her life that made her so reluctant. Cautious.