He got even closer. I pulled in a breath because he was now really close. His head had to tip down really far, and if I moved up on my toes, just a tiny bit, I could actually touch my lips to his.

I felt another belly whoosh.

“Works for me,” he murmured.

Oh. Wow.

“ ’Kay,” I breathed.

He stood where he was. I stood and started drowning in his eyes. He didn’t move. I didn’t either. I felt my body lean toward his a centimeter, such was his hot-guy magnetic pull, at the same time I licked my lip. His eyes dropped to my mouth but not before I saw them get even darker and more fathomless. My heart started to beat in my throat. His cell rang.

Then his eyes closed and the spell was broken as he moved a bit away growling, “Fuck.”

He pulled his cell out of his back jeans pocket, hit a button and put it to his ear as his gaze came back to mine.

“Lawson,” he said into his phone, and I moved farther away, thinking distance was a good thing. He was a good neighbor. He didn’t need to be being neighborly and have the person he was being neighborly toward throw herself at him. That would be wrong. “Yeah, right,” he continued. “I said I’ll be there, I’ll be there. I got somethin’ I gotta do. When I’m done I’m on my way. Yeah?” He paused and kept hold of my gaze. “Right. Later.”

He shut down his cell and shoved it back in his pocket.

“Work?” I asked.

“Love it most the time, hate it right about now,” he answered.

“Uh-huh,” I mumbled like I understood what he meant when I didn’t. Changing a doohickey wasn’t the height of entertainment that you didn’t want to be torn away from to do work you loved.

“Gotta get this done, Mara,” he told me.

“Okay,” I replied.

He stared at me and didn’t move. I did the same.

His grin came back and he repeated, “Gotta get this done.”

“I know,” I said. “You have to get to work.”

“Yeah and I gotta get this done.”

I blinked then said, “So, um… can I help?”

“You can help by lettin’ me get this done.”

What did he mean? I wasn’t stopping him.

“Please,” I motioned to the sink, “carry on.”

His grin became a smile. “Sweetheart, what I’m sayin’ is,” he leaned in, “you’re a distraction.”

I was?

Oh God! He was saying he didn’t need me hanging around chatting with him.

I was such a dork!

“I’ll, uh… go make dinner.”

“Good idea.”

I nodded. “And thanks, um… for, you know,” I motioned to the sink again, “helping out, especially when you’re so busy.”

“Any time.”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t happen again,” I pointed out the obvious. “But thanks anyway.”