“Is the end of the week too soon? It’s on the Strip. The building is near the Bellagio.” She brings a hand to her chest. The egg-sized diamond on her finger nearly blinds me as she says contritely, “Oh my, I should have asked. Would you be willing to work in Las Vegas? I’d be happy to pay you twenty percent above your New York fees for the inconvenience of working out of town and needing to find the right crew and workers and so on.”

I think this woman might be a fairy godmother.

“I would be thrilled to check it out, Lila,” I say. “I’m sure we can figure out how to make it all possible.”

Lila flashes me a smile then tips her forehead to Natalie. “That’s why I thought of both of you. I know Natalie is vital to making all this happen,” she says, waving a hand in the direction of the kitchen, “and it seemed to make sense for you to go together.”

The last word echoes.

Together. Together. Together.

No one says a word at first, then the silence spreads. Grows heavier. Weightier.

I remind myself that we’ve had dinner just the two of us. What’s the harm in traveling together?

I clear my throat and meet Natalie’s blue-eyed gaze. I swear I see excitement in her eyes. “Natalie, would that work for you? For your schedule at the dojo?”

She nods at the speed of light. “Yes. And once we know the scope of the job, I’ll do everything I can to make this fit into Wyatt’s work.”

Lila nearly bounces in her seat. “Wonderful. I can even arrange for you to stay in a suite at the Bellagio. Would those accommodations be suitable?”

She’s serious. That’s the most incredible part of her entire request. That she thinks there’s a chance we’d find the Bellagio unsuitable. “Yes, I believe it would suit us just fine,” I say, in a serious tone. “Natalie, does the Bellagio meet your standards?”

“Considering I’m operating at more of a Motel 6 level, I think the accommodations at the Bellagio would make me break out in cartwheels,” she says to Lila, who laughs sweetly.

Cartwheels. Wouldn’t mind seeing Natalie twirling upside-down. Preferably while wearing a short skirt.

“Do you need a room together or separate?” Lila asks, her eyes darting back and forth between us.

And it’s almost as if we’re puppies tumbling on top of each other, racing to answer separate in the same firm tone of voice. So there can be no confusion, we both repeat it: “Separate.”

We chat some more, and when Lila excuses herself to make some calls, Natalie’s phone dings with a text. As she reads it, her expression falls. “Crap. Hector can’t make it in. Says he didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

Hector is the guy I was counting on to help me with the final details of the cabinet install today.

“Fuuuuuck,” I say, like it has ten syllables. I heave a sigh. “This is why we need to hire some full-time people.”

She nods. “We need some accountability. Regularity. He says he can be here tomorrow, though.”

I shake my head. “Won’t do. Besides, what if Sleeping Beauty doesn’t get enough shut-eye again?”

She wraps her hand around my forearm. “Let me call around and see if I can round up any other last-minute guys.”

Finishing a job on time is always my goal, and I can’t let Lila down. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it all. I’ll just stay late to finish.”

Natalie shakes her finger at me. “You’ll do no such thing. Working too many hours in a row is dangerous. I’ll help you.”

I give her a look. “Appreciate it, but Hector wasn’t going to be doing schematics or scheduling. He uses a drill and a circular saw.”

She arches an eyebrow then taps her chest. “Wait. After six months together, you think I can’t operate a circular saw? Or hammer a nail?”

“I know you’re capable enough to hammer a nail—”

She cuts me off and holds up three fingers. “I can fix a leaky faucet.” Two fingers. “I can knock a grown man to the ground with my bare hands.” Last finger. “And not only can I inhale habanero peppers, I can screw anything.”

My jaw drops. I can’t even respond. I can’t even speak, and I don’t think she’s aware of the double entendre because she’s focused on darting her hands to my waist, and holy fuck, that’s a mighty nice spot for them. If she could move them just a bit lower, my fantasies might come true.

Fine, I’ve dreamed of screwing her hard. Like that’s a fucking surprise.

She unfastens my tool belt, slings it around her waist, tightens the buckle, and proceeds to look hot as fuck.

Jeans. White blouse. My worn leather tool belt sitting low on her hips.

For the rest of the day I will be working next to her.

Please, please, please let the horny aliens inhabit the planet of another man’s mind today.

Temptation, thy name is Natalie.

“Where’d you learn to play with tools like that?” I ask as we work side by side.

She rolls her eyes at me then sticks out her tongue. It doesn’t have the intended effect. She looks cute. Just like when girls pull down their pants to moon you as some sort of insult. It’s not an insult. It’s a win. Not that any girls have done that lately. Come to think of it, no one’s mooned me in years. Would be nice if Natalie broke my un-mooned streak.

“The same place you learned to play with dolls,” she tosses back.