Banged Up by Jeanne St James

misdialed. Whether she believed him or not, who knew, but at least she hadn’t freaked like the last time.
    When he’d asked her whether the hang-ups had been a reoccurring thing before he’d come home, she changed the subject. He had let it go. For now. But he was going to get to the bottom of it one way or another.
    ———
    Late in the afternoon, Mace heard a car drive up and opened the front door to see who it was. He surprised himself; he never even looked out the peephole first. It felt good to be able to open a door without fear of some thug blowing holes in him. Three days home and he was starting to relax.
    He was pleased to see it was Colby. She parked a bright red, but older, convertible next to his not so bright, old Ford truck. He spotted the groceries in the back seat and went to help her.
    “Sharp,” he said, snagging a couple of the brown paper bags.
    Colby handed him a third and grabbed one herself. “Me or the car?”
    “Both. I didn’t think you had a vehicle.”
    “It was at the garage. Needed a water pump.”
    He followed her into the house. “Yeah? Too bad I didn’t arrive sooner. I’m great with cars.”
    “And women?”
    “Them too.”
    “Did you learn your mechanical skills at—”
    Mace dropped the grocery bags on the kitchen table in time to cover her mouth with his hand. “Don’t. I’ve had enough of your jailhouse wisecracks.”
    His fingers against her warm, moist lips immediately sent a shock wave down to his groin. He wanted to run his thumb along her bottom lip and then dip it into her mouth. In and out. Until it was wet. He would follow his thumb with his tongue. And other things.
    Or just one other thing: his aching, swollen cock. His eyelids lowered with need until Colby stepped away from him, breaking his contact. Breaking into his thoughts.
    “Too close to home?” she asked, her voice a little shaky.
    Good. Maybe he was getting to her like she was getting to him. “No.”
    “So tell me what you do for a living.”
    He broke eye contact first, because if he hadn’t he would have pushed her Miss Proper skirt up and slammed his cock home very improper-like against the kitchen cabinet. Frontward, backward, he wasn’t going to be picky.
    He concentrated hard on the subject at hand. “You first. What do you do with your days, Ms. Parks?”
    “I think you’re avoiding the question. Finish carrying in the groceries while I unpack them, and then, and only then, I might play your little game, Mr. Walker.”
    If she only knew what game he really wanted to play with her…
    He behaved himself and brought in the rest of the bags. Settling into a chair, he regarded Colby while she started dinner.
    “Are you a chauvinist? Don’t you cook or clean or do laundry?”
    Mace smiled. “I try to avoid it at all costs.”
    “So who normally does all your domestic duties?”
    “Here we go with the questions again. You still have to answer mine.”
    She gave a little shrug. “Fine.”
    Mace moved behind Colby and saw her start when she turned around, finding him so close. He was close enough to feel her heat. It was almost enough to make him lose his mind.
    “What are you doing?”
    The tremble in her voice caught his attention, and threw a little cold water on his steaming hot libido. “Helping. I assume that’s what you wanted when you started in on the chauvinist crap.”
    Colby looked relieved.
    Three days had gone by. They’d eaten meals together, watched TV and he had even helped her paint her yellow kitchen. Not to mention the make-out session in the hallway yesterday. But she still hasn’t relaxed around me yet.
    Thinking about their up-close and personal time on Sunday made his libido snap right back up to attention. But he had to watch his step. He wanted to get down and dirty with her, discover all her secrets, but he couldn’t push too hard. Not yet. He didn’t want to scare her away. Hell, if he wasn’t careful the sexual tension was going to kill