Tangled Sheets, Tangled Lies. Julie Hogan

she squeezed by, she lightly brushed one curvy hip against his thigh, making the heat in his veins spike dangerously. He felt as much as heard her sharp intake of breath, then saw her glance at him from wide, surprised eyes.

      “You first, Mom,” the boy said, pulling them from the undertow created from their simple contact.

      Lauren moved away from Cole quickly, then lowered herself into the swing gingerly and gracefully, crossed those long, lovely legs, then patted the space next to her for Jem to sit down. The boy plopped down enthusiastically and Cole noticed Lauren wince as she looked above her head to see if it would fall from the rafters at the impact.

      “Awesome,” Jem said as he perched at the edge of the swing and dangled his legs.

      Lauren looked at Cole and repeated, “Awesome,” then put her arm around her son and smiled down at him. Cole felt like a boulder the size of Cleveland had settled in his stomach as he watched them but he quickly shuttered his expression as she looked up at him, her exotic green eyes troubled.

      “Thank you, Mr. Travis,” she said, her voice wrapping itself around his name so sweetly he almost felt like she’d reached out and touched him. “We’ve wanted to use this swing every day since we moved in.” Her smile wavered and she lifted her chin a fraction. “I’ll hire you for the weekend. But I still intend to conduct interviews and I’ll still need to see your references.”

      The stubborn tilt of her chin warned him to tread lightly. “You interview everyone you can find,” he said as he turned and began to remove the hinges from the screen door. “I’ll just keep working until you find someone who can do the job as fast and as well as I can.” He paused, then glanced over his shoulder at her. “Or until you don’t.”

      Two

      By four o’clock the next afternoon, Lauren was so frustrated she wanted to cry. She peered over the top of the dog-eared, grease-stained piece of paper at the two potbellied brothers sitting on her antique settee who were, unfortunately, only the latest marchers in the parade of inexperienced candidates who’d come to apply for her job. But these brothers were different. While the others had been merely amusingly underqualified, these two were downright offensive.

      From the moment she’d answered the door fifteen minutes earlier, she’d felt their oily gazes as distinctly as if they were touching her. Luckily, only a few minutes after they’d arrived, Cole had come in to change the lock on her front door. And though it pained her to admit it, having him there was reassuring.

      As she pretended to read the Beer Boys’s list of references, she glanced over at Cole. He was entirely too sure of himself—and probably getting a good laugh out of this, she thought, her gaze lingering on him for a moment as he worked with graceful efficiency. Sitting before her was graphic proof that Cole Travis was the best man for the job. And let’s face it, she told herself, when it came to everything she was looking for in a man…er, handyman, these two lumps weren’t even in the same galaxy as Cole.

      Suddenly, as if he could hear her thoughts, Cole looked over at the brothers and a deep frown settled in between his brows. Even in profile, his posture and demeanor were intense, ready.

      In spite of a little voice inside her that tried to assure her with, “I can take care of myself, I always have!” she felt a warm sense of ease settling over her as she lowered the paper.

      “So, ummm…” She looked back down at their “resume.” “Bobby, Johnny.” She looked up at them. “All the people you have listed as references seem to have the same last name as you do.”

      They grinned at each other, displaying crooked teeth yellowed, she assumed, by chewing tobacco. “Yeah. We been working around our daddy’s place all our lives.”

      “I see,” she said as an image from Deliverance flashed through her mind. She glanced at Cole again before trudging on with the interview. “And what kind of work do you know how to do?”

      “We can do anything you want us to do,” Bobby said. Beside him, Johnny wiggled his eyebrows at her and added suggestively, “And then some.”

      And even as the meaning behind his words sank into her consciousness, she saw Cole shoot to his feet, a muscle working in his jaw like a two-ton piston. When he spoke, there was a dangerous timbre to his voice. “I think the lady is asking if you understand the most basic things about construction. Like repairing lath and plaster walls?” Their expressions were blank. “Or glazing windows? Replacing tongue-and-groove flooring?” Their faces were as unresponsive as monks in a deep trance. “How about something simple, like hanging and taping drywall?”

      After several long moments of silence, Lauren heard Cole make an impatient noise that sounded almost like a snort before going back to work on the lock, now with a little more vigor. Annoyance at Cole’s interference warred with amusement at the idiocy written on the Beer Boys’s faces as they exchanged nervous glances.

      “Who’s he?” Bobby asked, looking over one sloped shoulder at Cole.

      “I’m the interim handyman,” Cole said in a loud growl.

      The brothers went cross-eyed as they struggled with the word “interim.”

      “He’s doing the job temporarily,” she interpreted.

      “Oh,” they said in unison. “Okay.”

      She stood up. “Well, I think I’ve got all the information I’ll need. I’ll call you if you get the job.” Or if you’re the last men on earth, whichever comes first.

      Moments later, Lauren watched the two men amble out the front door and wondered how one little town could have so many inept handymen. Her hopes for getting Simpson’s Gems ready on time were beginning to wane.

      If she wanted the job done she was going to have to hire Mr. Tempting. She knew it, but it still bothered her—because hell, he still bothered her. But as she turned to face Cole, the words, “you’re hired,” died before they could be uttered. His thunderous expression was enough to stop her cold.

      “What were you thinking?” he demanded, his lips drawn into a tight line.

      For a moment, Lauren could only stare. What was his problem? “What are you talking about?”

      “Those two, that’s what. What were you thinking inviting those two losers into your house?”

      Her temper flared up then, and she narrowed her eyes and straightened up to her full five foot nine. “Thinking? I was thinking of hiring a handyman, Mr. Travis.”

      “The name’s Cole,” he said, a muscle jumping at his jawline. “And if you were really looking for a handyman, you would have seen that there’s one standing in your living room right now.”

      “I think I made it clear that I’d be interviewing before I made a decision. And I don’t require your help with the interviews, by the way.”

      Cole’s laugh held not a single ounce of humor. “Well, it sure looked like you needed help with those two.”

      Lauren planted her fists on her hips. “I was handling it fine, Cole. Believe me, I’ve been handling that type for a long time.”

      “It sure didn’t look that way to me.”

      Pure, unmitigated exasperation made her blurt out, “Then maybe you shouldn’t be looking.” She took a deep breath before she spoke again, cooling her voice by at least twenty degrees. “Besides, don’t you have work to do?”

      His eyebrow arched up, questioning her. “Are you saying I’ve got the job?”

      Cole watched Lauren’s straight white teeth bite softly into her lush lower lip, the mere sight of which sent a streak of heat whooshing through him so fast, he felt like he was a match and she was the striking plate.

      Several long tense moments hung between them before she said, “I have several other people coming today.”

      “Really?”