Designated Hitter (Reedsville Roosters Book 4) by Holley Trent Page B

draw of the beer, pulled a coaster from the stack, and set the bottle on the coffee table.
    She chuckled. “So, you do have manners.”
    “Sometimes I act like it.” His grin would have made even the coldest woman feel warm all over, and Marina’s temperature was certainly ramping up to the caution zone. She felt it in her breasts. It pooled low in her belly and between her legs. It made her rub her thighs together and shift in her seat.
    Quinn pushed up a questioning eyebrow.
    Get on with it, woman. It’d been so long since she’d had The Talk with a man she might have been more than superficially interested in, and their working relationship complicated what could have been no-strings sex.
    “Listen,” she said. “I wanted to be upfront about why I invited you over so there are no misunderstandings.”
    “Go on.”
    “And so lines don’t blur. This has nothing to do with the renovation project. I’m asking for your time for completely non-productive reasons. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
    “That you’re not paying me to be here?”
    Way to put a fine point on it. She let a breath out through her parted lips. “I want you to know that you can leave, and that you have a choice to be here or not.”
    “What is it that you want from me?”
    “I want what you can give me. As much as you’re able to give me.”
    He picked up the beer bottle, but didn’t sip. Just stared down into the amber liquid and made it swish inside the glass.
    “Quinn?”
    He shrugged. “You make it sound so clinical.”
    “I’m trying to keep us both out of trouble. What I’m asking you for is ethically questionable given what you do for a living.”
    “Being paid for sex, you mean.”
    “I’m not trying to imply that—”
    “Yes you are. You’re either implying or fishing about it to learn the truth.” He took a sip and shook his head. “People always assume instead of asking because it’s easier. But I told you in the doorway yesterday that I’m real picky about who gets to touch me. Did you think I didn’t mean it?”
    She had thought that, and that was unfair. Had the tables been turned, she wouldn’t have wanted people making unqualified assumptions about her, either.
    She crossed her legs at the knees and rolled the ankle of her dangling foot. “So you don’t have sex with your clients. And because you don’t like me making assumptions, I’ll ask you this, even though I have no right to ask. Do you ever make them think you’re going there?”
    “Hoping they’ll keep me on so I’ll get a bigger payout? Fuck no. Because like you said, there is such a thing as questionable ethics. Sometimes, I do stupid shit that toes the line, but I wouldn’t do anything to compromise one of the best-paying gigs I’ve got. I get groped. Fondled. Needled. Begged to do more than I’m willing to do, but I always say no. I’ve been tempted, sure. But I say no.”
    She laced her fingers and spun her thumbs around and around each other. Maybe I should send him home. She had no business feeling as jealous as she was. Quinn wasn’t hers, and she wasn’t keeping him. She should never have called him.
    She looked at him and opened her mouth to tell him just that, but he set down his bottle again and stood.
    He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “What do you want from me, Marina? Huh?”
    “I…” She closed her mouth and furrowed her brow. Don’t lie.
    To start, she wanted to fire him so she could fuck him without guilt. But then she’d feel bad because he did a good job at that house and it wouldn’t be fair for him to dismiss him when it was more economically advantageous for him to stay on in the gig than to be assigned to a new one. She wanted to help him out, and herself at the same time in the most primal kind of way. Quinn was a cavewoman’s wet dream.
    She covered her eyes with her free hand and scoffed at herself. “It was a mistake. Me calling you, I mean.”
    “You don’t want me