Catarina suddenly wished she’d put on shoes. She could have fantasies about Ridley, but she knew better than to allow anything more than that, and bare feet brought some weird intimacy she hadn’t expected. Or maybe it was the look in his eyes when he did just what he was doing now, his eyes, like melted gold, moving over her body with a hint of things she didn’t quite understand.

“No. I’m not afraid of heights.”

“Good.” He turned back to his work. “Climb up behind me, baby, and pull that screwdriver out of my back pocket. I think you can lean around me and tighten that screw for me.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Her mouth suddenly went dry. “It takes two people to put one of those thingies up?” But already her hand had curled around the ladder. She wanted the security system up. She needed it up. She had no idea how she was going to repay him, but the idea of a few cameras and motion detectors right now, without having to wait a few months, was a huge relief.

“Not as a rule. I was distracted and chose the wrong screwdriver. The other one is in my back pocket. I’ve got this thingie in the perfect place and you can get it secure for me if you’re not afraid of heights.”

Amusement and a challenge. “You knew what I meant.” She began her climb up the ladder. It was so secure it didn’t even shake.

“Kitten. No one says thingie.”

She loved his voice. His voice could make her forget everything. Even if it was for just a few moments. She had to put her hand on his back and then his shoulder to steady herself as she climbed past him. Pulling the screwdriver from his back pocket seemed more intimate than ever and it was just a tool.

“Thingie is acceptable if everyone gets what it means,” she insisted, and slid under his arm so that she could maneuver into position.

She hadn’t thought about how she was going to have to stand, feet on the ladder, her body inside the circle of his arm, stretched up, so that her butt was against his chest. She tried not to be aware of him as she began to twist the screw into the ceiling. It was difficult because his body was hot and the heat moved straight into her like a living flame, heating her blood and putting all kinds of crazy, erotic images in her head.

“I want you to let me into your life,” he said, his voice low. So low she almost didn’t hear him.

Her heart did a little stutter. “I don’t let people into my life.” She tried to be honest. He was so close she could smell him—that clean rain forest scent that took her to another place where there wasn’t danger lurking in every corner.