She kicked off her sandals and pulled her legs up on the sofa, then picked up her glass. “You got the contracts?”

“I did. Already signed them. They’re in my car. I meant to bring those inside with me.”

“No hurry. But the sooner we get those executed, the sooner we can get started and finished. I know you’d like to move into your house.”

He nodded. “The condo’s a little tight for me. I’m on the road a lot during the season, but off-season it gets claustrophobic.”

“I’m sure it does, big guy like you in a condo.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t exactly my best move. I should have leased a town house, kind of like what you have here. You have more space than I do.”

“I wanted more room than a traditional condo. The town house affords me that. I would have preferred a house, but then there’s all that lawn maintenance.”

His lips curved. “Not a fan of mowing?”

“I don’t mind it, but my business has taken off, and I often have evening and weekend meetings. I’d like a bigger place with space for an office. Maybe sometime down the road I’ll opt for the house. Right now, letting the homeowner’s association deal with it works for me.”

He studied her in her cute little dress and her perfectly manicured turquoise toenails and matching fingernails. She had tiny feet, too, her heels smooth as polished stone.

“I can’t imagine you pushing a lawnmower.”

She cocked a brow. “Is that right? Who do you think mows the lawn at Mama’s house in late summer when you and Drake are out of town at some road game?”

“Don’t you have a lawn service?”

She laughed. “Mama would never allow a lawn service. She thinks it’s a frivolous expense.”

“That sounds like her.”

“And with her bad back, she can’t handle the mower anymore. So I do it. Which is another reason I didn’t buy a house. I have to make the time to do the yard work at Mama’s. No way I could find the time to do that at her house and mine.”

He made a mental note to mention that to Drake. If Drake could convince Mama Diane to move into a new house, he could wear her down on a lawn service, too.

“You’re just a tough girl, aren’t you?”

“It’s not that hard to mow the lawn, Barrett. Or run a weed whacker. Mama did it for years until her back issues. We Evans girls are made of strong stuff.”

“And yet you look tiny and fragile.”

She snorted out a laugh. “I also take kickboxing classes, so don’t mess with me.”

“That sounds like another challenge.”

“You might be all big and muscular, but we could go a few rounds. Who knows? I might be able to take you down.”

An instant visual of Harmony—naked and sitting on top of him—hammered his brain.

That would be one hell of a takedown. A tangle of limbs, her writhing on top of him, her sweet body undulating as she rode his dick . . .

Goddammit. What was it about this woman—this particular woman—that stirred him up like no other woman had before? He’d never had a problem walking away from a woman. Some were the right woman, and some weren’t. And when they weren’t, he never looked back.

So what was he still doing here, and why hadn’t he left yet? He stared at the now empty bottle of wine on the table.

This was the time. He’d done what he’d been asked to do. They’d shared a meal. Dishes were done. They’d had after-dinner wine and conversation. He could make a polite exit.

“Oh, but speaking of things that maybe I can’t do, I was wondering if you’d help me with something while you’re here.”

So much for his exit. “Sure.”

“It’s upstairs in my bedroom. Follow me.”

She slid off the sofa and he followed her upstairs, careful to stay right next to her so he wouldn’t be tempted by visuals of her legs or her butt.

She walked into her bedroom, and he prepared himself for some kind of assault, like her pushing him against the wall and rubbing her body all over him.

He was strong. He could withstand temptation. He’d just tell her no—politely but firmly, while reminding her about his friendship with Drake.

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” she said, pulling him from his righteous fantasy. “I bought these shutters for the bedroom windows, and I thought I could save on installation costs by doing it myself. The problem is, it’s kind of a two-person job because these things are heavy. I was wondering if you’d be willing to give me a hand.”

Okay, so no assault. Instead, a home improvement project. He hadn’t even been in the vicinity of guessing her motivations.

“Oh. Sure, I can do that.”

She grinned. “Awesome. Thanks.”

She hadn’t stripped down or pushed him against the wall or rubbed her body on his. Instead, she led him into her spare bedroom, where two boxes sat on the bed.

So maybe that seduction fantasy had been all in his head, not hers.

“These are the shutters?” he asked, focusing instead on the task at hand.

“Yes.”

He picked up the boxes—she was right, they were heavy. He carted them one by one into her bedroom and laid them on the floor.

In the meantime, she’d grabbed a cordless drill while he unpacked the boxes. Then she disappeared again, and he had no idea where she wanted these. He assumed the two windows on either side of the bed, since that’s where they’d seem to fit, but he didn’t want to make assumptions, so he started reading the instructions.