The Haneys: What You Do To Me Part 8

"Right."

She followed him back to her kitchen, her eyes drawn to his perfect b.u.t.t. Gah! Maybe her mother hadn't been as far off the mark as Haley wanted to believe. Sam had definitely reignited her dormant libido. In fact, he'd ignited libido she didn't even know she owned.

"All right," he said, all businesslike again. He used a putty knife to pry out the bit of wall he'd cut, setting the rectangle on the stove. "We're going to check behind the wall now." He picked up another tool from his box.

She stifled the urge to giggle. Nerves? Sam the instructor cracked her up. He took himself way too seriously, and he was so s.e.xy in his faded jeans, old, paint-splattered sweats.h.i.+rt and scuffed-up work boots. At least he wasn't wearing his tool belt tonight. Sam in a tool belt just about did her in. She sighed, and focused on what he was doing. She did want to learn after all. He used a mirror affixed to the end of a long thin handle to check inside the wall for electrical wiring, a gas line or plumbing pipes.

"We're good. Put on your work gloves. I don't want you getting another sliver, and I'm going to need your help soon." He put the mirror thingie away.

"Right." She crossed the room and fished out her gloves from yet another one of the plastic buckets strewn around her house. By the time she returned to Sam's side, he had a larger electrical saw in hand.

He glanced at her. "Now we're going to use a rotary saw to cut the wall, and then a reciprocating saw to remove the studs on either side to widen the opening."

"By we, I'm a.s.suming you mean you," she murmured, way more interested in watching him work than in learning how to do the job herself. A few hours later, with her help, they'd created the widened entryway she'd wanted, complete with additional support joists for the load-bearing crossbeam.

"Wow. I'm impressed." She stood back to admire the way the alteration opened up her kitchen and dining room. Sam lit up at her praise, and her insides melted in response.

"We still have to do the finis.h.i.+ng work, and we need to get a few new replacement planks for the floor." He began putting his tools away. "If you don't mind leaving a key, Wyatt and I will be back on Wednesday morning to install the bathroom, and if we have time, we'll start on the finish work then."

"That'll work. I'll leave the key under the mat on the breezeway."

"Great." He turned to her, his expression . . . vulnerable? "We're good?"

"Are you referring to the job or the kiss?" She turned her attention back to the perfect frame they'd installed together. She crossed her arms around her midriff, feeling a bit exposed herself.

"The kiss," he said, his voice gruff. "I know my work is good, Ms. Cooper. I'm an experienced, skilled craftsman, one of the best in the Twin Cities."

Oh, right. She'd accused him of not being very competent at carpentry since he had to offer s.e.x on the side to get jobs. Regret pinched at her conscience. "Hey, given the circ.u.mstances, can you blame me for-"

"That reminds me." He scrutinized her. "You never did finish telling me what your mom wanted to accomplish by pretending to be you, and-"

"Suggesting I wanted your special touch?" She huffed out a shaky laugh. "I'm pretty sure Trudy was hoping if you made a pa.s.s at me, I'd somehow want to get out and date again. Like, if you wanted me, so would someone else. She was hoping you'd restore my shaken confidence."

"I see." His brow furrowed, and his jaw tightened. He averted his gaze and busied himself with gathering his things.

What was running through his mind? Was he as insulted as she was at the way her mother had manipulated them both? "See why I want to find a way to end her scheming once and for all?"

"Yep." He hefted his tool box. "See you Wednesday if we're still here when you get home."

"Thanks, Sam. See you then," she said, following him to her front door. Talk to me. He'd gone quiet and his shoulders had slumped after she'd told him what had motivated her mother. It was almost as if he felt defeated. Insulted, more like it. That she could understand. She knew the feeling. Poor guy.

Haley watched Sam put his things in the back of his van, and before he circled to the driver's side door, he glanced her way. She waved. He waved back, and her heart skipped a beat. She closed her front door, reliving the kiss they'd shared and the tenderness he'd shown while taking care of her sliver. Never before had she reacted to a kiss the way she had to Sam's, and there hadn't even been any tongue involved. She sighed and raked her fingers through her hair. She wanted Sam in the worst way. "Dammit, Trudy Cooper!"

Sam drove off into the night, hardly able to get hold of a single thought or emotion before another jumped into the fray. That kiss with Haley had him rattled. His entire being had centered upon the sweet sensation of Haley's lips against his, as if that point of contact had become the center of his universe. He groaned, aching with frustration.

And what about the big reveal? Haley's mother wanted to use him, as if he were the right hand tool to rev her daughter up and send her back out into the dating world. He was supposed to fix her. What about him? Who was going to fix him? "I don't need fixing, and that kiss was just a kiss." He grunted. "Great. Now I'm talking to myself." He clamped his mouth shut.

All the way home he cursed the radio show and his own stupidity. Why had he felt it necessary to defend himself? If he hadn't picked up his phone and hit speed dial, n.o.body would've known he was Yvonne's handyman. His life would've continued on as it had, and he never would've laid eyes on Haley Cooper. "I am not a tool, dammit," he muttered.

He had to do a better job of fighting his attraction to her, make sure he didn't show up at her house alone. And for crying out loud, he needed to stop engaging her in conversation. Now that he'd gotten to the bottom of her mother's motives and Haley's breakup, he didn't need or want to know her any better.

Did he?

No. He did not. Sam shook his head, all the while fighting against the truth. Where Haley was concerned, what he wanted and what he actually did were two different animals entirely, and that scared him. There was absolutely nothing strings free or uninvolved about the woman, and letting her get to his heart would only lead to loss and pain.

By the time he parked his van in his apartment building lot, he'd managed to get a grip. His phone rang. He fished it out of his coat pocket and climbed out of the van. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Hey, whose name did you draw for Christmas this year?" his sister asked.

"Yours."

"Yeah? What are you going to get me?"

"I don't know, and even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. That kind of defeats the purpose, Jo."

"You sound cranky."

"I am cranky." He stomped toward the front door. "Did you need something?"

"I hate this time of year," she said in a small voice. "Christmas always makes me think of Mom and Dad, you know?"

"I know." Man, the wind was so bitter tonight, it made his eyes sting.

"Remember how it was? Christmas was the best. Mom and Dad always made it so much fun, and Grandpa Joe would show up at our door dressed up as Santa with presents and candy. Like we couldn't tell it was him." She chuckled. "Remember how we'd sneak downstairs really early Christmas morning, before Mom and Dad were up?"

"Of course I remember." The familiar ache filled his chest, and that panicky sense of helplessness he always got when talking about his parents sent his heart pounding. "How could I forget? We had a great childhood, and Mom and Dad were great parents. But, Jo, we're lucky. We still have Grandpa Joe and Grandma Maggie. Right?"

"Of course."

He swallowed the panic and pushed the ache aside. "Christmas is still good. Isn't it? All the cousins, uncles and aunts getting together at Gram and Gramps' house . . . we have fun."

"I know. You're right." Josey sighed. "I just miss what we had. I miss Mom and Dad. You'd think I'd be over it after all these years, but I'm not." She paused, as if trying to pull herself together. "Anyway, I called to see if you need help with your Christmas shopping, and now that I know you drew me, I'd be happy to tell you what's on my wish list."

"I don't need help, but thanks."

"You say that every year, but then it gets to be a few days before Christmas Eve, and you come around begging for help."

He laughed as he walked into his building, grateful she'd distracted him from thoughts of Haley. "And every year you call weeks in advance and offer your unsolicited a.s.sistance."

"Accept it early this time. I have a vested interest."

"All right. What do you want?" He climbed the stairs to his second-floor apartment while his sister ticked off a list. "Got it. I'll see you tomorrow. Let's hang out after my team's hockey practice."

"Sure. We can meet at The Bulldog. Wyatt too," she said. "Being together helps."

"I agree." Plans made, he ended the call. Christmas, like most holidays, got to him for the same reasons it got to his brother and sister. Could it be the season was affecting how he reacted to everything else going on in his life? Along with the stress Loaded Question had caused, missing his parents, all the nostalgia . . . Yeah, he needed a vacation, somewhere warm. Maybe he'd go to the Bahamas or Mexico. Things were off-kilter, and he needed to set his life back on an even keel again. That's all.

Kissing Haley Cooper sure hadn't helped matters. She was the reason the ground he stood on no longer felt solid under his work boots. Haley, with her big brown eyes, soft curves and that kissable mouth of hers . . . He strode into his apartment, kicked off his boots and tossed his keys into the basket on his kitchen counter. A beer and then bed. He'd work on his defenses against cute brunettes tomorrow. He was way too tired to fight the good fight tonight.

Chapter Seven.

Showered and wrapped in her bathrobe, Haley stood in front of her new medicine cabinet mirror and applied her makeup. Brent would pick her up for the Christmas party in an hour, and boy was it bliss to have a fully functioning, updated bathroom in which to get ready.

She couldn't keep the smile off her face. The bathroom had turned out way better than she'd imagined. The brownish-copper paint she'd chosen really set off the dark-cherry-stained vanity. Plus, she loved the sleek, contemporary look of her bronzed fixtures. They'd installed a travertine tile floor, and it really complemented the shower tiles. She still needed to find accent pieces and something nicer than the plain white shower curtain she had up, but for now, everything was perfect.

Her cell phone rang, and she hurried to grab it from her bedroom dresser. "h.e.l.lo."

"Hey, it's Sam."

Surprise stole her breath, and she immediately recalled the kiss they'd shared. Wait. It's Friday night. Shouldn't he be out carousing?

"Haley, you there?"

"Yeah. Sorry. What's up?"

"Did I leave my cordless drill at your house on Wednesday?"

Her heart dropped, almost as if she'd been hoping he'd called just to talk to her, which he hadn't. "You did. It's sitting on a dining room chair."

"I'm going to need it this weekend. Would you mind if I stopped by in the next hour or so to pick it up?"

"I don't mind as long as you get here before seven. I'm going out." Seconds of silence stretched between them. She checked to see if the call had been dropped. Nope. "You still there, Sam?"

"Uh . . . yeah. Lost you for a minute. What did you say?"

"I said it's fine to pick up your drill, but it has to happen before seven."

"I'm on my way. I'll be there in ten or fifteen minutes."

He hung up before she could respond. Great, she was still in her robe and slippers. Haley tossed her phone on the bed and dressed. She tugged at the zipper of her dress on her way back to the bathroom to finish putting on her makeup. Part of her wanted to see the expression on his face when he saw her all dressed up. "I've lost my mind," she muttered, applying mascara to her already lined and shadowed eyes. She checked her hair one last time and reached for her lipstick.

Her pulse hit the charts. "Yep. I've definitely lost my mind."

Regardless of the state of her mind, she added the finis.h.i.+ng touches: garnet earrings and a matching pendant. She padded back to her bedroom to check herself in the full-length mirror on the back of her closet door. Turning this way and that, she surveyed the results of her efforts and slipped her feet into her sleek black pumps. She loved the s.e.xy new crimson-and-black c.o.c.ktail dress, and the lacy black hose she'd chosen pulled the entire ensemble together. Exactly the right amount of cleavage showed, and the dress clung to her in all the right places. She picked up a bottle of her favorite perfume, spritzed some into the air and walked through the fragrant mist.

A knock on her door sent electric currents tracing along her nerves, and her mouth went completely dry. Don't sweat. She'd have damp spots under her arms if she didn't get hold of herself. She shook out her hands, walked to the door and swung it open. "Hi, Sam. Come on in. I'll get your drill."

"Holy hotness, Batman. You are dressed to break hearts tonight, Ms. Cooper." His razor-sharp gaze traveled over her, taking her in. "Where are you off to this evening?"

Pleased beyond reason, she sashayed to the dining room-was he watching?-to fetch his drill. "I have a date," she answered. He didn't need to know her date was gay, or that it was a company holiday party. She simply wanted to bask in a man's heated perusal and appreciation for a brief moment, all right? No, not all right. Not just any man's appreciative looks would do. She wanted Sam's heated looks, but she chose to ignore her motives for the time being.

"Wait," he rasped out, too close behind her. "I'll get the drill. I'd hate for any oil or dirt to ruin . . . d.a.m.n, Haley. You look positively edible." He looked her over again, his blue eyes darkening.

"Thank you." She clasped her hands together. No need to embarra.s.s herself by fanning her face.

"Who's the lucky guy?"

Did she detect a hint of jealousy? "He's a lawyer."

"Ah." He nodded. "I kind of figured you for the suit-and-tie type."

"I don't have a type." She bristled.

"Oh, really." He smirked.

"Really."

"Then you and I should go out."

"What?" Her eyes widened. He looked as stunned as she felt by the words that had fallen from his mouth. "Oh, Sam, I don't think-"

"Oh, Haley, I know what you think. You don't see me as dateable." He flashed her a pointed look. "You think I'm this promiscuous horndog who-"

"Wait a minute. I'll admit in the shock of the moment I did call you a few names, but I never said you weren't dateable. You're completely date worthy. But, Sam-"

"d.a.m.n right I'm date worthy." His voice rang with challenge. "Spend some time in my world, and I'll prove it to you."

"Proving to me you're dateable is important to you?" Taken aback, she stared at him. "Why?"

"I guess it's because I'm compet.i.tive, and because you misjudged me from the start."

He shrugged, as if it didn't matter one way or the other, but again she caught a glimpse of something pa.s.s through his eyes. Vulnerability? Her heart turned over. "I-"

"Knock, knock," Brent called, opening the front door to let himself in. "Oh, wow, Haley." He placed both hands over his heart. "That dress. You in that dress . . ." He noticed Sam, and sent her a questioning look.

"Brent, this is Sam. His construction company is doing some remodeling work on my house." She crossed the living room, opened her closet and took out her coat. "Sam, this is Brent."

Brent took a step toward her. Sam strode to her side and took the coat from her hands. He held it up for her to slip into. "Brent," Sam said, settling the coat on her shoulders. "Nice to meet you."

Utter confusion clouded Brent's face. She could relate. Haley had her own mess of confusion to deal with. "Thanks," she muttered, stepping away. "Sam stopped by to pick up a drill he left here the other day." She gestured toward dining room.

"Guess I'd better get that drill and head out," Sam said in a tight voice. "You two have fun."

"You too," Haley said. He must have plans. Men who looked like Sam did not sit at home on Friday and Sat.u.r.day nights, especially not men who had the kind of reputation Sam had admitted to on the radio. He grabbed his hand tool and stomped out of her house. Guilt knotted her stomach. The sashaying in front of him had been over the top. She'd provoked him.

"What did I miss?" Brent frowned at her.

She bit her lip. "I might have teased him a little, but I didn't invite him over. He called me. Can I help it if I just happened to be all dressed up for a party when he stopped by?"

"I see."

"Do you? Because I'm not sure I do."