She didn't ask if he was speaking from experience. She really didn't want to know. "But I'm right about the Betty Crocker part, aren't I?"
He shrugged and slid the metal tape up the wall to the ceiling. "It's important to me. I don't like to cook." He paused to read the measurement and wrote it next to the first. "I don't like to shop or clean house or do laundry. The things women don't mind doing."
"Are you serious?" He looked so normal, yet at some point in his life, he'd been mentally stunted. "What makes you think women don't mind doing laundry and cleaning a house? It may surprise you to know that we aren't born with a biological predisposition to wash socks and scrub toilets."
The tape measure slid smoothly back into the metal case, and he hooked it to his belt. "Maybe. All I know is that women don't seem to mind cleaning and laundry as much as men do. Just like men don't mind changing the oil in the car, and women will drive ten miles out of the way to go to a Jiffy Lube."
Of course women went to Jiffy Lube. What kind of weirdo changed his own oil? She shook her head. "I predict you'll be single for a while yet."
"What, are you my psychic friend?"
"No, I don't need to be psychic to know that no woman wants to be your maid for life. Unless there is something in it for her," she amended, thinking of a desperate homeless woman.
"There is something in it for her." With two long strides he closed the distance between them. "Me."
"I was thinking something good."
"I'm good. Real good," he said low enough so he wouldn't be overheard outside the room. "Do you want me to show you how good?"
"No." She straightened away from the wall, and he stood so dose she could see the black rims of his irises.
Joe raised his hand and pushed one side of her hair behind her ear; his thumb brushed her cheek. "Your turn."
She shook her head, afraid that if he decided to show her how good, she wouldn't try all that hard to stop him. "No, really. I'll take your word for it."
His quiet laughter filled the small room. "I meant it's your turn to answer a question."
"Oh," she said and didn't know why she should feel so disappointed.
"Why is a girl like you still single?"
She wondered what he meant and tried to summon a bit of indignation, but her response came out more breathy than offended. "Like me?"
He slid his thumb across her jaw to her chin, then brushed her bottom lip. "With your wild just-got-laid hair, and those big green eyes, you can make a man forget everything."
The heat of his words settled in the pit of her stomach and weakened her knees. "Like what?"
"Like why it isn't a good idea if I kiss you," he said and slowly lowered his mouth to hers. "All over." His hand caressed her hip, and he pulled her close. The leather pockets of his tool belt pressed into her abdomen. "like why I'm really here, and why we can't spend the day like we would if you really were my girlfriend." His lips brushed across hers and she opened to him, unable to resist the pull of desire curling her toes. The tip of his tongue touched her own, then he drew it inside his warm mouth. He took his time kissing her, drawing out the pleasure with the slow, lingering caress of his lips and tongue. Even as he pushed her back against the wall, entwined their fingers, and pinned her hands by the side of her head, her moist lips clung to his and his tongue gently plunged inside, then retreated.
Teasing even as he soothed her with his mouth. Her position against the wall arched her back and thrust her breasts into his hard chest. Her nipples drew tight, and when he deepened the kiss, Gabrielle got all squishy inside. Hot liquid pooled low in her abdomen and dragged a moan from deep within her chest. She heard it but barely recognized it as coming from her.
Then she heard something like Joe clearing his throat, but standing within the hypnotic influence of his deep red aura, she wondered how he could clear his throat when his tongue was in her mouth.
"When you get done with the handyman, Gabe, I need you to look over those invoices for that damaged shipment of sushi plates."
Joe pulled back and looked as dazed as she felt. She realized he hadn't spoken at all, and she turned her head just in time to see Kevin walk from the back room toward the front of the store. The bell signaling a customer rang, and if Kevin had a doubt in his mind that Joe was really her boyfriend, he wouldn't now.
Joe stepped back and ran his fingers through the sides of his hair. He let out a breath, and his hands dropped to his sides, his gaze still a bit glazed and bewildered as if he'd been hit over the head by some unseen force. "Maybe you shouldn't wear stuff like that to work."
With desire still rushing through her veins, Gabrielle rocked back on her heels and cast a puzzled glimpse downward at her dress. The hem reached her calves, and the loose bodice showed very little. "This? What's wrong with this?"
He shifted his weight to one foot and crossed his arm over his chest. "It's too sexy."
Astonishment kept her silent for a moment, but when she looked into his eyes and realized he was serious, she burst into laughter. She couldn't help it.
"What's so funny?"
"By no stretch of the imagination would anyone ever consider this dress sexy."
He shook his head. "Maybe it's that black lace bra you're wearing."
"If you hadn't been staring down my dress, you wouldn't know about my bra."
"And if you hadn't been showing me, I wouldn't have been looking."
"Showing you?" Anger cooled any lingering desire, and she no longer thought there was anything amusing about the situation. "Are you saying that the sight of a black bra makes you lose control?"
"Normally no." He looked her up and down. "What's in that stuff you were burning earlier?"
"Orange and rose oil."
"Nothing else?"
"No. Why?"
"Anything mind altering in all those weird little bottles you carry around with you? Spells or voodoo or something?"
"You think that you kissed me because of some sort of voodoo oil?"
"Makes sense."
It was beyond ridiculous. She leaned forward and poked his chest with her index finger. "Were you dropped on your head as a child?" She poked him again. "Is that your problem?"
He unfolded his arms and grasped her hand in his hot palm. "I thought you were a pacifist."
"I am, but you've just pushed me past my…" Gabrielle paused and listened to the voices coming from the front. They moved toward the back room, and she didn't need to see them to know who'd walked into the store.
"Gabe is back here with her boyfriend," Kevin said.
"Boyfriend? Gabrielle didn't mention a boyfriend when I spoke to her last night."
Gabrielle tugged her hand from Joe's grasp, took a step back, and quickly studied him from head to toe. He stood before her looking exactly as her mother had described. Stubborn and determined and sensual. The jeans and tool belt were like a neon sign. "Quick," she whispered, "give me that tool belt."
"What?"
"Just do it." Without the tool belt, maybe her mother wouldn't confuse Joe for the man in her vision. "Hurry."
His hands lowered to the front of his jeans, and he unbuckled the wide leather belt. Slowly, he handed it over and asked, "Anything else?"
Gabrielle snatched it from him and tossed it behind a box in the corner. It hit the wall hard, and she spun around in time to see her mother, Aunt Yolanda, and Kevin walk into the back. She stepped out of the storage room and pinned a smile on her face. "Hi," she said as if nothing was out of the ordinary. As if she hadn't been making out with a dark, passionate lover.
Joe watched Gabrielle's straight shoulders as she moved from the small room. He quickly turned his back to the doorway and took a moment to rearrange himself. He didn't care what she said, there had to be some sort of mind-altering aphrodisiac in that stuff she burned all the time. It was the only explanation for why he'd completely lost his mind.