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He was hard, and it was all her fault.
The way Lesley Farmer saw it, he had two immediate problems. The first, and most urgent, hung six feet above his head in the master bedroom. Sporting dark brown limbs and lush green leaves, the Manitoba Maple had been upright and stalwart, shading his back yard, up until about two hours ago. Now it seemed intent on making a place for itself indoors. The second problem, less obvious, he hoped, hung between his legs. It was the fastest and strongest erection he'd ever sprouted and would appear to have been inspired solely by the presence of the woman standing next to him.
"That is one big piece of wood," contractor Charlie McKinley said.
Lesley kept his eyes focused on the 'break and enter' tree, bit back the 'thank-you' that rolled from his throat to his tongue, and murmured his agreement. He was trying to figure out just what it was about this woman that set his sap to rising. She was definitely not his usual type. He liked petite, dainty women. 'Dainty' didn't suit Ms. McKinley. She almost matched his six one height, and her blond hair was cut in a sleek, face-framing cap. Form fitting jeans and tee left no doubt of her femininity, though. She was very easy on the eyes, and there was no mistaking the affect she was having on his body. He just hoped that her attention would remain on the intrusive limb above their heads, and that she would not discover the one in his pants.
"From my experience," she continued, "I can tell you that it's going to require expert handling."
"You're not qualified to take care of it yourself, then?"
"I'd need a crane to lift that sucker."
She said sucker. Lesley had touse every ounce of his willpower to pull his mind away from sex and focus it on the situation at hand. He figured that if he didn't, his mouth was going to get him into deep, serious trouble. So he gave the brown and green intruder one more detailed study, then boldly turned to face Ms. McKinley. His focus was entirely on her, his question direct, spoken as if he didn't have a raging hard-on between his legs.
"Do you know anyone who has the expertise to handle it?"
"Yes, I know a guy who runs a tree service. His rates are the best in town. But the roof and interior ceiling repair, once the tree's out, are things that I can do."
Lesley nodded briskly, once, then turned his attention back to the tree. He'd caught the slight flicker of her eyes away from his face and knew that she'd seen his condition. Well, this is probably the most embarrassing moment of my life to date. He was a man. He was tough. He could take it ... he hoped.
From his peripheral vision, he watched as Ms. McKinley brought her glazed eyes back into focus, licked her lips, swallowed, then fastened her attention overhead on the tree. Maybe not so embarrassing if she liked what she saw.
"I won't be able to begin an estimate on the repairs until that woody ... I mean tree ... is out of that hole ... off the roof."
He swallowed his laughter as he realized he wasn't the only one affected by raging hormones. That was a relief. Even as he considered the situation, his own eyes wandered, and caught the beading of her nipples, just discernable under the covering of her t-shirt. It occurred to him then that they had both been silent for a long time, staring at that damn tree as if it was the most fascinating sight either of them had ever seen. He was trying to figure out what to do next when the sound of the grandfather clock in the living room announcing the half hour snapped Lesley back to reality. Hell, he was going to be late.
"If you'd be so kind as to arrange for this tree to be removed, Ms. McKinley, I'd appreciate it. I'd also like an estimate on the repair. I don't know if my insurance company will want additional quotes or not. I'll have to get back to you on that."
"Some do, some don't," she replied as she opened her clipboard. "If you'll just give me a few moments and answer a couple of routine questions, I'll fill out a work order for you to sign, sir."
Her snooty tone caught him off guard. It certainly wasn't his fault that they were both in this strange erogenous zone. Screw it, two can play that game. "My neighbor, Mrs. Crosby, will be over in a moment and will lock up after you're done, Ms. McKinley. I have to get to the university library. Here's my number, you can let me know when that estimate is ready."
He held out the business card and raised one eyebrow, daring her to take it. Her frown told him he'd scored a bulls-eye with his response.
"You have to go to the library? Now?"
"Since I'm the Director of Library Services, I'd better."
"I appreciate the business, Mr. Farmer. I'll see if I can get Jake over immediately to get this tree out. Then I'll cover the hole with a tarp. The forecast isn't calling for rain, but it is spring in southern Ontario. You just never know."
"Thank you, Ms. McKinley." Considering her for a moment, he gave in to his inner imp. "I wouldn't want to get ... wet in my bed."
"Well, if I have anything to say about it, Mr. Farmer, you'll stay as dry and safe as a kitten."