Page 16 of Under Daddy's Spell

“Is that what you agreed upon with the restaurant that was here before me?”

She hesitated, which was answer enough for him.

“Seventy?” she suggested.

“You didn’t answer the question,” he replied, his tone softly scolding.

“Seventy-four,” she muttered. “What if we try seventy-two?”

“Deal.”

He could see her tension ease, her stiff shoulders and back relaxing as if she had expected more of a fight from him.

“Did you think I’d be an ass about it?”

“No,” she answered much too quickly.

“Yes, you did,” he countered, grinning broadly. “Stick around a while and you’ll see I’m a nice guy.” Unable to resist teasing her, he lowered his voice when he continued, “as long as you don’t cross me.”

Her eyes widened as that soaked in.

Jordan was mostly joking. It took a lot to get him riled, but once the fuse was lit... This delightfully curvy little girl shouldn’t have anything to worry about—as long as she behaved.

He moved a step closer and picked up a curl from her shoulder. It wasn’t a defined, springy spiral like the night before, but a messy tangle like she’d just climbed out of bed.

“Did you run in the rain this morning?”

She jerked a little, obviously self-conscious. It was enough for him to lose his gentle grip on the soft strands.

“Yes, it was more mist than rain though,” she replied as she attempted to smooth and comb the sexy mass with her fingers. “Jordan, why would it be ten degrees warmer on my side when we share the same system?”

“I can think of several reasons. Your oven, which you mentioned, and the steam from the espresso machine, neither of which I have. It could be as simple as a dirty filter or that something is blocking the air flow into your store.” ?

“None of that was ever a problem before—”

“Before I moved in? Is that what you’re saying?”

He edged even closer. Again, not liking her tone or the accusation. Jordan tamped down his natural inclination to address both. She wasn’t his girl to deal with as he wanted, not yet.

“This was a restaurant with ovens, warmers, and, I’m sure, since it was an Italian bistro, an espresso machine. The only thing I have that puts off heat are the coolers and ice machine for our smoothies. Naturally, we’re going to be cooler. Instead of comparing apples to apples like before, you now have to look at apples and oranges.”

Chagrin replaced the stressed look on her face, and her pink-tinged cheeks turned red. “That would make a difference, of course,” she allowed.

“When was the last time someone serviced the system?”

“I have no idea. No one has come through on my side since I move in.”

“There you go. Call Thompson and ask him to arrange for a service call, to be sure.”

At the mention of their landlord’s name, she bit her lower lip. The combination of sexy sweetness and vulnerability, everything he liked, roused his body to semi-hard awareness. But her hesitation alerted him to the possibility she may have had trouble with Mr. Thompson in the past.

“Is that a problem, Tessa?” he inquired.

“He isn’t the most accommodating man...when I can reach him.”

“I’d be happy to make a call—”

“Oh no. I can do it.”

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