“What am I going to do?” Hartley asked herself
as the office door opened and closed. The office manager, Linda, no doubt.
“Hey, are you okay?”
The voice was deep, male, and definitely not
Linda’s. Hartley’s gaze whipped up. And up. To find a tall and incredibly sexy
man standing in the doorway to her cubicle. Sun-kissed shoulder-length blond
hair framed a ruggedly masculine face and intense gray eyes that were at once
inquisitive and observing. Broad shoulders and defined muscles pulled taut a
heathered-gray T-shirt with a single word written across the chest: NAVY. His lean forearms and legs beneath
a pair of khaki cargo shorts were toned and tanned, as if he spent a lot of
time in the sun.
The guy exuded raw sex appeal doing nothing
besides standing absolutely still, and his very presence scrambled her brain.
“Uh, hi. Yes. Sorry. I’m kinda in my own world
here. Did you need Linda?” Hartley managed as she pushed to her feet. At
five-five, she wasn’t exactly short, but his impressive height made her tilt
her head back to meet his assessing gaze.
He shook his head. “I was coming by to see if
she needed any help around the marina.”
“Oh. Wow. I’m sure she’d appreciate that. She
stepped out to a meeting but she should be back soon if you’d like to wait.”
Despite his selfless reason for being there, the man made Hartley nervous. She
wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the intensity behind those odd, gray eyes. Or the
way he towered over her. Or how freaking good-looking he was.
(Or the way she wanted to climb him like
mainmast. Gah.)
“I’ll do that. Thanks.”
“Sure,” she said. But he didn’t leave. “Um,
anything else I can do for you?”
His gaze stayed glued to hers, but she had the
oddest feeling that he was checking her out nonetheless. He smiled and shook
his head. And, man, was his smile a
stunner, highlighting the strong angles of his jaw and charming her with the
way the right side of his mouth lifted higher than the left. He thumbed over
his shoulder. “I’ll just grab a seat.”
And then he disappeared from her little
doorway.
Hartley was half tempted to peer around the
corner and watch him walk away. Just to see if the rear view was as impressive
as the front.
On a sigh, she dropped back into her chair.
And even though her thoughts should’ve returned to the huge problem of fixing
her boat, they lingered on the sexy Good Samaritan currently making small
noises on the other side of the room. Who was he? Hartley had essentially grown
up around this marina. Even though she couldn’t say she knew everyone here, she
still recognized most of the regulars. And she’d never seen Mr. Tall, Blond,
and Ruggedly Handsome before.
Her cell phone buzzed, pulling her from her
thoughts.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Mrs. Farren, this is Ed Stark returning your
call from Stark Restoration.”
Hope rushed through Hartley. “Hi, Mr. Stark.
Thanks for calling back so quickly. And, please, call me Hartley.” Being called
missus was almost laughable when she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone
on a date. With rebuilding the charter business after her father’s death and
taking care of her grandmother, Hartley didn’t have time to date. Or, at least,
she hadn’t made the time. Not that she’d had any prospects motivating her to do
so. Shaking the thoughts away, she filled the man in on the damage her boat had
sustained and the challenge of her three-week deadline.
“I might be able to get someone out to take a
look at your boat by the end of the week, but you’re at least the tenth call
I’ve had today. I wouldn’t be able to guarantee a completion date without
assessing the damage, and I’ve got a number of other repair jobs ahead of yours
at this point.”
It was the same thing all the others had told
her. And she got it. She did. It wasn’t anyone else’s problem that she depended
on the Windsong for her livelihood.
Or that she’d put most of what her father left her into her grandmother’s home
and a bigger boat that could carry more passengers two years ago. Or that July
had been so rainy that her normal charter business had been halved. Or that she
needed the extra income that the sailboat show and Sailing University courses
would bring in to make it through the leaner winter months.
Just then, the front door opened again.
“Hartley, I’m back. Sorry I was gone so long.” This time, it was definitely
Linda. “Oh, Jonathan. How are you? How did you guys make out in the storm?”
“Our shop’s fine, ma’am,” the man said.
“Thanks for asking.” Jonathan. Jonathan who apparently had a shop somewhere in
the marina? “Do you need any help with anything? Cruz and I are available if
you do.”
“Oh, aren’t you a sweetheart?” Linda said.
“For the moment, I think we have everything under control, but I will
absolutely keep your offer in mind.”
Even more curious about the mystery sex god in
her midst, Hartley stepped out of her cubicle and tried not to stare. Or drool.
But between those mountainous shoulders, built biceps, and his sun-streaked
hair, it was hard not to. (That’s what
she said!) Oh, God. Hartley was clearly losing her mind. She forced her
gaze to her friend. “Hey, Linda. Everything go okay?”
“Oh, yes. Just little fires everywhere that
need put out,” Linda said, dropping a legal pad full of notes onto her desk.
“Were you able to find anyone to do the work?”
Hartley’s shoulders fell. “No. No one can even
look before Friday.”
Linda frowned, and then her gaze swung to
Jonathan. “Have you two met yet?”
That intense gray-eyed gaze landed on Hartley,
unleashing a whirl of butterflies in her belly. “Haven’t had the pleasure,”
Jonathan said.
It was a simple statement. But something about
the word pleasure from that man’s
mouth made a tingle run down her spine. It’d clearly been too long since she’d
been on a date. Or been kissed. And waaaay too long since she’d last had sex.
Embarrassingly long. Like, she didn’t even want to admit to herself how long.
(Fifteen months.)
With that fantastic thought in mind, all
Hartley managed to say was, “Uh, hi. Again.” She chuckled to cover how much she
wanted to duck back into the cubicle and bang her head against the desk.
He grinned, and it was a grin that could’ve
easily been playful or mischievous. Either way, it was sexy as hell. “Hi.
Again. I’m Jonathan Allen.”
“Hartley Farren.” Feeling Linda’s amused gaze
on her, she cleared her throat. “You have a shop in the marina?”
He nodded. “A&R Builds and Restoration.”
“Jonathan and his partner Cruz own the
business that moved into the old Stanton space at the beginning of the summer,”
Linda added helpfully.
Hartley’s eyes went wide as her heart kicked
into a sprint. “You do builds and
restoration?”
He chuckled. “As the name suggests.”
She didn’t even mind the teasing, not when he
might be able to help her. “Then you might be my new favorite person.”
“Is that right?”
The office phone rang, and Linda excused
herself to answer it.
Hartley stepped closer to Jonathan. Why did
that make her feel like she was approaching a usually friendly but sometimes
lethal animal? Her stomach did a little flip. “Yes, because I need a huge,
huge, gigantic favor.”
He arched a sexy brow. “And if I do this
favor, will I officially be your
favorite person?”
She grinned, enjoying his playfulness—and the
fact that he was entertaining doing her a favor when they barely knew each
other. “Without question. I’ll even make you an official certificate. Jonathan Allen. Hartley Farren’s Favorite
Person.”
That crooked smile emerged again, and hope
flooded through her. “Hmm. I don’t know. I mean, a certificate is nice and all,
but…”
Was he playing with her? She thought he was,
but she didn’t know him well enough to know for sure. Hartley braced her hands
on her hips. “Are you teasing me? Because that would be evil, Jonathan, and you
don’t strike me as an evil man.” Now she
arched a brow.
His chuckle this time was different. Deeper.
Grittier. Sexier. With an undercurrent of…something she didn’t understand. “You
never know, Hartley.”
“Oh, come on. Can I at least tell you what my
favor is?” she asked.
Those gray eyes sparkled with amusement.
“Well, I couldn’t help but overhear your phone conversation, so I might have an
inkling.”
Wait. He knew
what she needed and still hadn’t said no? Hope and anticipation rushed through
her, making her feel restless and brave. “Then if my awesome certificate idea
isn’t enough, what can I offer to convince you to walk out to my slip and take
a look at my catamaran?”
That eyebrow arched again, and Hartley
suddenly felt like they’d been playing chess—and her words had just allowed him
to put her in checkmate. But still, he didn’t make any claims of her.
She stepped closer. “Jonathan. Mr. Allen. Mr. Allen, My Already Officially Favorite
Person, are you going to make me beg? Because that wouldn’t be very nice,”
she added playfully.
Those gray eyes flared. She would’ve sworn
they did. He bit back a chuckle as he shook his head. And when his words came,
they were filled with a deep intensity that made her shiver. “Why don’t you
show me your boat, Hartley, and then I’ll answer your questions.”
