Twelve Nights Of Temptation

He watched for a few minutes, struggling with his feelings, knowing he had to put their relationship back on an even keel.

Work—he needed to say something about work instead of sharing a cozy drink.

“Are you trying to impress me?” he asked.

She didn’t pause. “Yes.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Good.”

“You should stop working.”

“I’m not finished.”

“You’re making me feel guilty.”

She looked his way and rolled her eyes. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.”

“Then what?”

“The maintenance needed doing. I was here. There was an opportunity.”

He fought an urge to close the space between them. “Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, überindustrious?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He did move closer. He shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t bring up their kiss. But he desperately wanted to bring it up, discuss it, dissect it, relive it. How did she feel about it now? Was she angry? Was there a chance in the world she wanted to do it again?

“It’s an unnerving thing,” he said.

“Then, you’re very easily unnerved.”

He couldn’t help but smile at her comeback. “I’m trying to figure you out.”

“Well, that’s a waste of time.”

“I realize I don’t know you well.”

“You don’t need to know me well. Just sign my paycheck.”

Well, that was a crystal clear signal. He was her boss, nothing more. He swallowed his disappointment.

Then again, if he was her boss, he was her boss. He reached forward to take the wrench from her hand. “It’s after five and it’s a Saturday and you’re done.”

Their fingers touched. Stupid mistake. He felt a current run up the center of his arm.

Her grip tightened on the wrench as she tried to tug it from his grasp. “Let it go.”

“It’s time to clock out.”

“Seriously, Matt. I’m not done yet.”

His hand wrapped around hers, and his feet took him closer still.

“Matt.” There was a warning in her voice, but then their gazes caught and held.

Her eyes turned moss green, deep and yielding. She was feeling something. She had to be feeling something.

She used her free hand to grasp his arm. Her grip was strong, stronger than he’d imagined. He liked that.

“We can’t do this, Matt.”

“I know.”

She swallowed, and her voice seemed strained. “So let go.”

“I want to kiss you again.”

“It’s a bad idea.”

“You’re right.” His disappointment was acute. “It is.”

She didn’t step back, and her lips parted as she drew in a breath. “We need to keep it simple, straightforward.”

“Why?”

“The signature on my paycheck.”

“Is that the only reason?” It was valid. But he was curious. He was intensely curious.

“I’m not that kind of girl.”

He knew she didn’t mean to be funny, but he couldn’t help but joke. “The kind that kisses men?”

“The kind that randomly kisses my boss—or any coworker for that matter—while I’m working, in an engine room, covered in grease.”

“That’s fair.”

“You bet, it’s fair. Not that I need your approval. Now, let go of my hand.”

He glanced down, realizing they were still touching. The last thing he wanted to do was let her go. But he had no choice.

She set down the wrench, replacing it with a screwdriver. Then she lifted the generator panel and put it in place.