Page 5 of The Taste of Charity
His husky, whiskey voice starts reading a magazine article. It’s all about how to do a major tune-up on a hot rod car.
I roll over and stare at him, wide-eyed. “What is your business?”
“I’m a mechanic.”
“Oh, thank god. I couldn’t figure out what kind of job would call for that much information on a car.”
“Everyone should know how to fix their car.”
“Wouldn’t you be out of business then?”
“Touche! You got me. I would definitely be out of business.”
“What do you think about your job? Do you like it?” I ask him, eyes focused on his face, lost in those damn sapphire eyes.
“I do like my job. It’s nice to be able to follow the clues and make sure that I can figure out what’s wrong with a vehicle.
“It must be nice to follow little signals and fix something. I’m awful at fixing things. I tried rewiring a lamp once and almost electrocuted my hair.”
He snorts and then laughs uproariously. “You’re a very interesting woman, Uptown. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”
“That’s good. I’d hate to be exactly like every other woman you’ve met.”
“I would never say that about you, baby. Now lie down and get some sleep.”
Closing my eyes, I sigh and then let my mind whirl away.
Let my body relax and one muscle at a time, sink into the beat-up old couch, the dusty fabric tickling my nose.
“That’s it, baby. Just relax.”
I smile and hold a hand out for his, lacing my fingers with his square fingers.
Drowsy beyond belief, I let my hand rub up and down his hand until I finally drift off, a dazed smile on my face.
CHAPTER4
Jameson
Ican’t walk away from her. She’s still holding onto my hand in her sleep. Her hand is so tiny and delicate in mine. I turn her hand over, marveling at how soft and small she is. My thumb traces her fingers, my own rough and calloused.
We’re so different. Even with ragged fingernails and a threadbare yet expensive sweater and pants, every bone in her body screams classy. I barely know the meaning of the word.
But I sure as hell know it when I saw it.
Slowly and carefully I shift my hand until I can slide my own fingers out of hers. She huffs out a soft breath in her sleep, her dewy pink lips pouting when I step away from her to get cleaned up. My eyes study my face in the mirror. Harsh, chiseled cheeks and jawline. Dark scruff all along my chin and jaw. Longer than it should be hair begging for a good trim. Even my blue eyes look tired and worn. In contrast, she glows, her cheeks a rosy pink, her amber eyes closed off yet so damn beautiful my heart clenches just looking at her.
I peek out the bathroom door, a slight smile twitching on my hard lips when I see that her hand is still reaching out for mine. Her long, dark hair is tangled and wild around her head, splayed across my couch cushions.
I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman. Tempting too.
Of course, it’s been a long time since I’ve been interested in a woman. Not since my ex-girlfriend, Tracy, left in the middle of the night with every damn dime of mine she could find and almost all of the furniture. Some friends had scraped together and found the things that currently litter my apartment. I just haven’t been interested enough to buy anything else.
But now. I can’t believe that she’s here, sitting in this shithole I call an apartment, sleeping on my broken-down, hand-me-down couch.
I sigh and shut the door, my dick throbbing in my jeans. Since I saw her, I haven’t been able to get that fucker to go down. I’m like a pre-pubescent schoolboy that can’t control his fucking body.
I glare at my face in the mirror and groan, my head falling to my chest.
