Incidental Contact (Those Devilish De Marco Men) by Eden Connor Read Free Book Online

but to the oversized closet her parents called home?
    She stared through her windshield, watching Eric round the front of her car. Pulling her door wide, he held out a hand, stooping to peer inside. “Looks like the weatherman missed. Snow came early. Let’s get you inside.” His smile made her tummy flip, but when he touched her shoulder, she jumped. “Relax, Amy. You look like you think I’m gonna rip your clothes off and throw you over my shoulder.”
    Yeah, right. Okay, this is Eric. I know him. He doesn’t attack women. Apparently, all he has to do is kiss them twice and they follow him anywhere. She turned off the ignition.
    “Do you have a bag or do you let all your clothes run loose in the back?”
    This time her laugh was more genuine. “I have a duffle with the essentials.” She hefted the rucksack out of the passenger-side floorboard and handed her burden to him, so she could grab the bag holding her books and laptop. Putting one foot on the asphalt drive took courage she hadn’t thought she possessed, but Eric reached for her hand again, helping her from the car. He didn’t let go of her hand. His gesture was almost funny. Did he think she might bolt into the woods? Two steps up the stone path, he gave her fingers a comforting squeeze.
    She’d expected a college-boy-gone-wild look, at best. The place was hardly what she’d call ‘decorated’, but the meager furnishings surprised her. A massive leather couch, deep enough for two people to lie side-by-side, faced an adorable, red-enameled wood stove seated on a tall hearth. There wasn’t a recliner in sight. The tables were utilitarian boxes, filled with small drawers, like cabinets out of an old print shop. Not a single beer can rested on the thick, metal-clad slabs serving as tops. The space beneath the stairs was filled with built-in drawers and cubbyholes. Matching doors leaned against the nearby wall, waiting to be installed.
    The only item in the room she could’ve guessed correctly was the massive, flat-panel television. No neon beer signs glared at her. Not a single, greasy car part obstructed the tawny ceramic floor tiles. Pendulum lights in the kitchen looked like something reclaimed from an old factory. The thick glass covers had turn-of-the-century charm.
    “Wow, this is nice.” Worried she sounded like she expected him to live in a ratty trailer, she added, “Cozy, I mean. Look at all the drawers.”
    “Yeah, I like to tinker, so I collect lots of small parts. I’m afraid there aren’t any drawers upstairs. I was gonna put a pool table up there. I can rustle you up some trunks for your stuff tomorrow. We’ve got some real oldies, the kind with hanging space and drawers. It’ll just take a minute to get the fire going. I heat with wood. You wanna go upstairs and drop your stuff?”
    He brushed aside her bangs. His touch sent that disconcerting jolt through her again, causing her to take a step back.
    Being here made having sex a possibility. But, being rejected was the more likely possibility, one she didn’t think she could handle. She wasn’t sure what “sexy lessons” might entail. Maybe he had a rubric.
    “I need to dig some clothes out of my trunk,” she admitted, squeezing the words past a tight throat.
    “Flashlights are in the top drawer.” He gestured toward the staircase. She could tell from his smile she wouldn’t be able to reach the drawer he meant. “I might have a step stool you can use.” His grin made the buzz in her core crank up a notch.
    All this sexual tension had to go. Besides, she was likely the only one experiencing these jagged little thrills. He was just trying to boost her confidence because she’d broken down and whined. She had to dial back, or risk being humiliated later, when he’d say there was no lab to go along with his lessons. “Fuck you, Honey Bee. Can’t you just hand me one with working batteries?”
    He looked injured. “They all have working batteries, thank you very much.