Page 6 of Tempt Her

But that can’t be so, not with that soft white Henley he’s wearing underneath and unbuttoned, exposing his dusting of trimmed chest hair.

It’s like he stepped out of a Banana Republic ad becausethat’show khaki pants should look on a man’s ass.

I keep staring at it. I keep wondering abouthisbig banana.

“Ma’am,” Ford commands my attention, and I jolt, enjoying the shock of it, “where did you get this white paint sample?”

I’m so busted, admiring his ass, praising his package before drooling rivers over his muscular frame, then landing on his—what the fuck—angry eyes? He’s pissed at me?

Ford’s a stranger, but I know an angry man when I see him; I usually sleep beside one.

And I’ve done nothing to this man.

When I answered the door, Ford stood in front. He looked me in the eye, his handsome face evaporating my private tears, and politely, I greeted him and the two men behind him, inviting them in and introducing myself.

“I’m Stacey Evans,” I said, “Mrs. Gentry Evans, the senator’s wife.” It just slipped out of my broken ego… and then Ford glared at me.

What dark emotions stormed across his eyes, I don’t know. Pity? Disgust? Dismissal? I couldn’t read the man when usually, they’re open books.

“Sherwin Williams,” I answer him now, yanked out the dream of his perfect body by his icy eyes. “Why?”

It snarls Gentry’s lip. He doesn’t like me answering back to a man, not even one he’s hiring. But I don’t care. Suddenly, in Ford’s presence, Gentry isnotin charge.

“Making sure it’s not the cheap stuff,” Ford answers, pausing before he rips his piercing eyes away from mine. It’s like he just stole something from my depths before leaving me standing here. Exposed. Alone. Judged.

What the hell?

This is the South; use your fucking manners. Smile at the motherfuckers you hate. Didn’t he get the memo?

Turning back to Gentry, he says, “The white is a quality color, Cotton. We just redid the Middleton’s home in it.”

Like a slap, Ford’s endorsement spins my head... over a damn paint color. The hot man, who’s obviously a cold dick, is correct. The color is called “Cotton,” and yes, it’s trendy right now.

And dropping the “Middleton” name to my ambitious husband, who’s always got his nose up, sniffing for power? Like a weasel, Gentry just detected a mate to fuck.

He doesn’t reply, his decision wavering while the men keep their backs to me.

Something about how they’re standing; there’s a chasm between Gentry and Ford on Gentry’s right. But it’s the way Ford and the other two men stand together, shoulder to shoulder. They seem connected, fused by something powerful, and the only thing breaking the arc of electricity between their massive bodies is the glances each one steals back at me.

“Mateo,”—Ford calls the man on his right—“how does Cotton cover? Two coats or three?”

“Usually two,” Mateo answers. “It saves money and time.”

They consider the grand wall in front of them with Gentry’s coveted flatscreen over our fireplace like it’s art. Like it’s the Mona Lisa.

But the real art is Mateo.

He’s breathtaking, and I can barely get a good look at him.

Hiding under a white baseball cap, his long hair brushes his shoulders in glistening coal waves. His broad shoulders touch one inch shorter beside Ford’s while his sturdy white button-up drapes over his V-shaped back.

It’s like Mateo’s dressed for business, construction business, but I note the drop of white paint on the cuff of his dark tapered jeans. When he turns his chin like he’s trying to sneak another look at me, his stunning face is smooth, beautiful. The sparkling pale green rimming his brown eyes is mesmerizing.

Sweat hits my palms as I catch the black tattoos hiding under his white collar, covering his light umber skin. The sight of him makes my ribs lift, my breath thinning in his presence. I’m intrigued by Mateo.

My god, I want to run my fingertips over him while he can paint my every inch.

“It’s a good color,” he also endorses my choice as the house politics quickly shift in my favor with two men on my side now. “The Middletons sure liked it.”

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