I blinked again. “Tools?”

His stared at me and then his lips twitched again. “Yeah. Tools. Like a wrench. You got one of those?”

“I have a hammer,” I offered.

One side of his mouth hitched up in a half smile. “I’m not sure a hammer is gonna help.”

It took a lot of effort but I only glanced at the half smile before my eyes went back to his. This didn’t do a thing to decelerate my rapidly accelerating heartbeat.

“Then no, I don’t have tools,” I told him, not adding that I wasn’t entirely certain what a wrench was.

He nodded and turned to the door. “I’ll go get mine.”

Then he was gone, and I didn’t know what to do, so I hurried after him.

I should have stayed where I was. I’d seen him move, of course, I just hadn’t seen him moving around in my apartment. He had an athlete’s grace, which I had noticed before. But it was more. He had a natural confidence with the way he held his body and the way he moved. It was immensely attractive all the time, but seeing it in my apartment was not going to be conducive to peace of mind. Something it was difficult for me to find on a good day, much less a day when my faucet didn’t turn off and I was forced to endure an evening that included Detective Mitch Lawson having to be in my apartment.

He stopped at the door and turned to me. “I’ll be right back.”

I nodded, and he disappeared out the door.

I stood in my living area in my heels, skirt and blouse from work. Then I wondered if I had time to change before he got back. Then I wondered if he’d notice it if I’d spritzed on perfume when he got back. Then I wondered if I should do a shot or two of vodka before he got back. Then he knocked on my door, which meant he was back.

I ran to the door, looked through the peephole (you couldn’t be too careful) and saw him looking to the side. I sucked in a calming breath then opened the door.

“Hey,” I said, “welcome back.”

I was such a dork!

He grinned. I stepped aside, and he came through carrying a toolbox. Learning from my mistakes, I immediately led him through the living area, down the hall, through my bedroom and to the bathroom. He put the toolbox on the basin counter and opened it. He pulled out what I figured was a wrench and went right to work.

I watched his hands, which I’d never really noticed before. They were a man’s hands. There were veins that stood out that were appealing. His fingers were long and strong looking. He had great hands.