The first time I glance up, he’s still staring at me, so I give him a big grin paired with an enthusiastic thumbs-up. He simultaneously rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

The second time I take a break from my work, Ben has on his distracted, thoughtful look while his pencil dances across the page.

Over an hour goes by before he finally stands up to crack his back. “Okay. Come take a look.”

“Nuh-uh.” I wag my finger at him and know there’s mischief in my smile. “I’m committing to this trust exercise. I’ll take a look when it’s on me.”

“Come on, Holly. That’s crazy.” Ben’s arms cross over his chest, as he’s ready to fight me on this.

But I’m not backing down.

“Crazy would be handing your tools to a homeless man on the street and asking him to tattoo me. But you know what’s fun and romantic?” I stand from my seat and saunter toward him. “Asking my handsome, talented, amazing, trustworthy partner to design a surprise tattoo for me.”

This morning, I dressed for war, knowing this might come down to trickery. Ben always gets turned up hotter when I slip on one of my shapely pencil skirts and pair it with a set of heels. Sexy Business Holly he calls it.

I watch my efforts work. His scowl drops away as his eyes trace down my approaching figure. He’s biting his lower lip when I stop in front of him. But he still doesn’t give in.

“You shouldn’t get something permanent on your body without seeing it first.”

Instead of answering, I reach out my hand, sliding my fingers along his waistband, gently caressing the warm skin of his midriff. His ab muscles clench at my touch.

“Then, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

He scrubs his hands over his face, and then he grabs my wrists and drags me to his chest. “You’re sure about this?”

I smell mint again as his question brushes over my face. Immediately, I nod.

“Okay. But it’s your fault if you don’t like it.”

Before he can turn back to his table, I slip my hands from his hold and wrap my arms around his waist, giving him a squeeze. “You drew it. So, I’m going to love it.”

He harrumphs but kisses my forehead and directs me to sit in the dentist-like chair. In an effort to keep from glimpsing the design, I don’t watch him as he preps everything even though I really want to. Seeing my guy in his element is the best kind of foreplay. He doesn’t hesitate or dawdle; he’s all business.

“You said your wrist?”

“Yes, my left one.” I display the area by stretching out my arm on the padded armrest.

Ben coats my skin with a layer of deodorant and then reaches for the stencil he just printed. By turning my head, I avoid ruining the surprise. Apparently, the movement makes Ben doubt this whole exchange once again.