He’d planned on having his housekeeper, Mrs. Taylor, bring up a tray around noon, but it was sweet that Harper had planned ahead. “My favorite,” he told her. He hadn’t eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich since Susan made them for lunch every day when she’d sent them all off to school, but back then it really had been his favorite. At least, when he hadn’t been getting into too much trouble to eat lunch.
“Climb into the backseat,” he told Jeremy, then jetted the golf cart out to Harper, swinging it around so that she could climb in beside him.
She carried a six-pack of water bottles and an insulated lunch bag. As soon as she was seated, he couldn’t resist reaching out to brush away a lock of hair from her gorgeous mouth. Once the strand was gone, however, he let his hand linger on her soft skin, appreciating the way her eyes dilated slightly with an awareness she couldn’t hide.
“Thank you for taking care of us, Harper. Guys working on cars don’t think to stop and eat. But we’re going to need our sustenance.” Then he added over his shoulder, “Isn’t that right, Jeremy?”
“Right, Will.”
He moved his hand from her cheek to rest lightly over hers as he whisked them up the hill, feeling Harper’s gaze on him.
“Stop teasing,” she said softly.
“Teasing?” He lifted one eyebrow. “I’m perfectly serious.”
And he was. He intended to make her crazy. As crazy for him as he already was for her. The prospect already had his blood rushing.
She tried to look stern. “You know what I mean.”
He knew exactly what she meant. And he had a lot more planned for her. Touching, teasing, flirting—anything that would remind her of every single wicked intention he’d whispered against her skin in her kitchen a week and a half ago.
He wanted the woman who’d grabbed his shirt and dragged his mouth down to hers out by the old aqueduct. And since something told him she was secretly dying for that, too, he’d do whatever he could to bring out that thrill-seeking side of her again.
* * *
With each zing of Will’s fingers on her arm and her shoulder and her back, Harper felt a little crazier. Resisting him was the rational choice—the safe choice—but staying rational around Will was one of the hardest things she’d ever tried to do.
“You’ve got quite a setup here,” she said, attempting to divert her focus away from how much she wanted him.
“I converted the barn when I was building the Cobra.”
The barn floor had been filled in with concrete and covered with black and white checkerboard squares. A car lift was central to the huge workspace, and above was a suspension system that Will explained could be used to lower the engine block and transmission into place, and even the fiberglass car body. Ringing the floor space were rolling tool chests, workbenches, an air compressor, a welding machine, bins of rivets, pins, nuts, bolts, and screws, along with racks of drills, electric screwdrivers, and other tools, all in pristine condition.
The second they stepped inside, Jeremy ran around asking Will what everything was. Will not only patiently answered Jeremy’s questions, but he actually seemed to enjoy explaining. It was another big point for him in the plus column, at least where her brother was concerned.
Will turned to the covered item centered over the lift. “And here is the object of our desire.”
He stood so close that their arms brushed. Thrill bumps rose along with the fine, nearly invisible hairs on her forearms, like a static shock from too much friction. His mouth curved as he glanced down at her, knowing full well what he was doing with his double entendres. No question about it, he enjoyed teasing her way too much. But the secret truth was that she enjoyed it, too, even if she shouldn’t.
When she was with Will, Harper felt young and sexy and giddy for the first time in a very, very long time.
Will whipped away the tarp, and Jeremy said, “Wow,” on a soft note of awe.
“That’s exactly what I said when I first saw it,” Will said with equal reverence.
“What is it?” Harper asked as she stared at the contraption.
It looked like a twisted metal cage. Or a complicated set of monkey bars on a playground. Rods were stuck together seemingly every which way, but also with a synergistic sense of purpose she couldn’t fathom.
“It’s the frame of the car,” Will explained.
“How could you have had this made in less than two weeks?” Suddenly, she felt the awe. For Will and what he could accomplish.
“I offered a bonus so the factory would work around the clock.” He said it matter-of-factly, as if it hadn’t cost a staggering amount.