At ten o’clock, Olivia walked out to call Trevor in for a late breakfast. His shirt hung over the side mirror of his work truck. Shading her eyes with her hand, she peered up at the slanted roof.

He was working on this side, which gave her an excellent view. His back glistened with sweat as he ripped off shingles and threw them into the dumpster below. The stirring display of male power immersed her in a big ol’ vat of lust. No telling how long she stood there. Long enough for him to glance down and spy her watching him.

He heaved a shingle into the dumpster and walked to the edge of the roof.

Her stomach bottomed out. “Don’t get too close!”

“I won’t.” Taking off his gloves, he shoved them in his back pocket. Then he pulled a bandana out of his other back pocket, took off his hat and mopped his face. “I’m a safety-first kind of guy.”

“I have a touch of acrophobia. I don’t like seeing anyone standing in a place they could fall from.”

He took a couple of steps back up the roof. “Better?”

“Yes. Thanks.” Considerate and insanely handsome. What more could a woman want? His chest glistened with sweat, too. She licked her lips, as if she could taste the salt on his skin.

“Is it break time?”

“Sure is!” She sounded as enthusiastic as a summer camp counselor. It was a wonder she could speak after drinking in the sight of all that masculinity. From this angle his shoulders looked a mile wide. And his package…damn, she should never focus there. Huge mistake.

“So the food’s ready?”

“Whenever you are. I just need to scramble the bread and toast the eggs.” Her cheeks warmed. “I meant—”

He grinned. “I know what you meant.” He rubbed the bandana over his head before replacing his hat. “I’ll be right down.”

“I’ll start the eggs.” She hurried inside. She wasn’t prepared to stand next to his shirtless self. If he came in bare-chested she was in big trouble.

Dealing with his bare chest today was a hundred times more arousing than when she’d met him coming from his shower in the hall of the ranch house. This time he was laboring to save her house. And she longed to express her appreciation. Oh, man, did she ever.

Her kickboxing classes were supposed to work off excess steam, but maybe it was counterproductive. She was more aware of her body than ever in her life. Her coordination had improved, too. Bottom line, she’d be way better at sex after all those workouts. She wanted to test it.

Not that she would! Good Lord. She fanned herself and took several deep breaths. Then she whisked the hell out of the eggs.

No backtracking. She’d made her case last night and Trevor had left after their spaghetti dinner. He understood her position. But if he’d noticed her staring at him on the roof, that could complicate matters.

His boots echoed on the porch and he came through the front door into the living room. “I smell cookies!”

“That’s the new batch. I want you to have plenty for the weekend.” She dumped the eggs in the frying pan and glanced up.

He’d put on his shirt. He hadn’t fastened all the snaps, but most of them. He’d left his shirttails out. She fought the impulse to grab the front of his shirt and yank it open.

He started toward the counter where she was cooling the cookies on sheets of waxed paper. “I know what you said, but one or two won’t hurt anything.”

“I disagree.” A devilish impulse made her step between him and the cookies. “Sweets on an empty stomach is never a good idea.”

He advanced until his body nearly touched hers. “I think it’s a great idea. Haven’t you heard the saying Life’s short. Eat dessert first?”

Her breathing got all wonky and her glasses steamed up. “Haven’t you heard the saying Patience is a virtue?”

“Heard it. Never subscribed to it.” Reaching around her, he snagged a cookie. “You baked these for me, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“I’m claiming one.” He bit into it and closed his eyes. “Mm.”

Pulse racing, she scooted away, abandoning the field. Her glasses weren’t so fogged that she couldn’t see him perfectly. If she spent another second watching him eat that cookie, she’d beg him to kiss her.

She flipped into hostess mode. “Coffee’s made and mugs are in the cupboard above the coffeepot. Cream’s in the fridge if you use it.”

“I don’t, but thanks.” He took down a mug and poured himself some coffee. “How about you? Ready for some?”

Some what? She pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh. Then she cleared her throat. “Yes, thanks.”

He pulled out a second mug. “Should I leave room for cream?”

“I like it black.” She dished up their plates. Concentrating on simple tasks seemed to be the only thing that calmed her runaway hormones.

“So why do you have cream on hand?” He filled the mug.

“I knew you’d be here working this weekend and I couldn’t remember if you used it or not.”

“Hey, that was nice of you to think of me.”

He had no idea how often she thought of him.

“And these cookies are amazing. Is there a secret ingredient?”

“Ghirardelli chocolate chips.”

“That explains it. Primo chocolate chips.”

She picked up both plates. “We’re ready to eat if you—” She stared in shock at the counter. “How many cookies have you had?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Ten or twelve. Who’s counting?”

“You’ll make yourself sick!”

“Haven’t, yet. When I’m doing hard physical labor I can get away with eating stuff that would normally ruin my digestion. Besides, I have a cast iron stomach.”

Naturally. She’d never met such a virile man. “If you say so.” She handed him a plate. “I put silverware and napkins in the dining room.”

“Then let’s get to it.” He picked up his mug in his free hand. “This looks delicious.”

“You’re still hungry after eating all those cookies?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a wink. “Did I say that right?”

“You did.” He’d said it more seductively than he’d ever know. “I can’t believe you have room for breakfast.”

“Oh, I do. Mom used to call me the bottomless pit.” He waited for her to go into the dining room before he followed. “All of us liked to eat, but I guess I liked it more than anyone.”

“Then it’s a good thing I baked another batch of cookies.”

“Where are the ones from last night?”

She laughed. “I’m not sure I should tell you. I need to save some for tomorrow.”

“Then don’t tell me. The temptation would drive me crazy. I’ll make do with what’s left on the counter.”

She took the same seat she’d had the night before and so did he.

After he put his napkin on his lap, he rubbed his bristly chin. “This is so nice, cloth napkins and all. And me looking like a derelict.”

“No, you don’t. You look like a man who spent the night fighting a fire and got up early to come work on my roof. How much sleep did you get?” She picked up her fork when she figured out he was waiting for her.

“A couple of hours.” He tucked into his breakfast.

“Yikes, Trevor. And you’re walking around on the edge of my roof?”

He swallowed and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Don’t worry. If I start feeling tired, I’ll take a little nap in my truck. Then I’ll finish up. I’m about half done removing those shingles.”

“You don’t have to sleep in your truck.”

“Where would you like me to sleep?” His tone sounded innocent but his glance wasn’t.

Face hot, she braved it out and pretended she didn’t understand that look. “You can use my couch if you need a nap.”

“Very kind of you.”

“I’m a kind person.”

“I know you are.” He held her gaze a moment longer before returning to his meal. “While I was up there working I got to thinking about something.”

She’d just bet he did. “What?”

“This is an older home so stuff’s bound to go wrong now and then. Do you mostly handle the maintenance yourself?” He took another forkful of eggs.

“If it’s easy. Repairing the wall was beyond my skills. If it’s plumbing or electrical, I hire someone.”

“That can get pricey.”

“It can. Some things, like a leaky faucet, I just let go until I have several plumbing issues to stack on one service call.”

He nodded. “Makes sense. Have you ever thought of hiring a general handyman who could take care of everything?”

“I had one, but he retired and moved away. I haven’t bothered to look for someone else.”

“How about me?”

Her brain stalled. “I…well…I guess maybe, if you—”

“You could pay me in cookies.”

“Of course I wouldn’t pay you in cookies! You’re a professional.” And way too sexy to be her handyman.

“I’d be doing it as a friend, not a hired hand, and cookies would be awesome. I’ve been buying them because I have a massive cookie habit. These are a hundred times better than any I can buy.”

“Why don’t you just make your own?”

“Never did learn to bake, and the process doesn’t interest me, to be honest. Just the product. Mom used to bake, but she doesn’t do it as much now. I wouldn’t suggest this except I can tell you enjoy making them and it seems like a great trade.”

“How do you know I enjoy making them?”

“Because they taste so good. You must love doing it.”

“Well, you’re right. I do love it. The mixing, the spooning out the batter, the way it makes the kitchen smell, seeing them lined up on the counter. I used to make them all the time for…”

“Edward. It’s okay. You can say that.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Sure it does, but if I’m going to be your friend I’ll have to get over being jealous. He was a major player in your life and still is, in a way.”

“Are you going to be my friend?” It was an intriguing concept but she didn’t think it would work.

“I’d like to. I want to work on it. Crazy as it sounds, I missed you last week.”

“I missed you, too. I probably shouldn’t tell you that. You might think—”

“That you’ve changed your mind? I know you haven’t or we’d be in the bedroom right now.”

She gasped. “We would not!”

“Yes, we would, and you know it. When you tried to stop me from eating the cookies, there was a moment when you wanted me, but you were fighting it. If I’d grabbed you then…but I didn’t and you pulled yourself together.”

She covered her face with her hands. “You see too much!”

“I see a warm, sexy woman who can’t allow herself to feel those emotions. It must be tough.”

“It is.” She took her hands away and found the courage to look at him. “So logically I should stay far away from you. I don’t want to do that, but I can’t imagine how we can be just friends, either.”

“We’ll never know if we don’t give it a shot. I could be your friendly handyman.”

“Who works for cookies.”

“Exactly.”