The Professional by Rhonda Nelson Read Free Book Online Page A

look. A silver watch encircled his wrist and though she couldn’t isolate a brand name on any particular item, everything he wore looked well-made and of quality.
    In a word, expensive.
    In her discount scrubs and worn tennis shoes, she suddenly felt like a slob. It wasn’t that she couldn’t afford nice clothes—she could—she just preferred to spend her money on other things. Like food for her animals, farm equipment and new furnishings for her house. She’d be willing to bet her tractor cost more than his, Sophie thought with an inward smile.
    At any rate, his arrival combined with the sudden racing of her heart and the absurd impulse to lick him from one end to the other was her exit cue.
    Thankfully, she’d already packed up her massage table and bag, and was ready to go. Trying not to look like she was in a hurry, she casually crossed the room and hefted the bag onto her shoulder. “I’d better get going, Lila,” she said.
    Rather than wait for an invitation into the house, to her chagrin Foy’s grandson—Jeb, she’d heard—opened the door, came in and stood in front of it. Purposely, she was sure. Panic and irritation surged through her, impossibly heightening her awareness of him.
    “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said, his voice a warm baritone with a cool, raspy finish. A shiver hit her middle, sending goosebumps over the tops of her thighs. He fastened his gaze on hers once more and, while it had been unnerving at a distance, this close it was practically debilitating. His eyes were so very blue, Sophie thought dimly. Vivid and clear. Mesmerizing. Deep. A girl could drown in them. She was drowning in them.
    “Not at all,” Lila trilled, obviously happy to be included on his visitation circuit. “Sophie humored me with a home visit this morning.”
    “Lucky you,” he murmured so low Sophie was certain she was the only one who heard it. Latent humor glinted in his gaze and his sulky, sexy mouth lifted in a faint grin.
    She swallowed, stunned. He was flirting? With her? “I did,” Sophie said with a nod. Did that squeaky voice really belong to her? She cleared her throat. “And now I’ve got to get going. Mustn’t get behind schedule,” she continued with a brittle laugh and started toward the door.
    Rather than move out of the way like anyone else would have done, he stood firm and extended his hand. “Jeb Anderson,” he said. “I’m F—”
    “Foy’s grandson,” she finished, unable to keep the skepticism out of her voice. “I’ve heard.” She shook his hand for all of half a second, then snatched it back, ignoring the fire that streaked down her arm and the instant weakening of her knees at the contact.
    Though she was certain he picked up on her tone, his expression didn’t change. He smiled, revealing a deep dimple in his right cheek. A dimpled
badass? Really? She smothered a whimper. How unfair was that?
    “I imagine word travels fast through here.”
    “It does,” she agreed.
    “Can I get you a cup of tea, Jeb? A slice of orange cake?” Lila asked, seemingly unaware of the tense undercurrent humming between them.
    “I’d love that, thanks.” He arched a brow. “It’s Sophie, right?”
    “Yes.” She didn’t elaborate because she desperately wanted to leave. He smelled really good, too. Like a loamy forest and musk. It was a rich smell, very masculine and it suited him perfectly. She could feel her reflexes slowing, becoming sluggish, which was odd considering she felt like her insides were about to vibrate out of her body.
    “You’re the resident masseuse?”
    She shifted her bag as though it were too heavy, hoping he’d get the hint. “Among other things, but yes, that’s right.”
    “Excellent,” he said with a nod. “I should set up an appointment while I’m here. I could use a good working over.”
    Whether the innuendo in that comment was real or imagined—probably imagined, Sophie told herself—it had a devastating effect all the