Chapter 3
Chapter Three
From the minute she’d stepped inside, Sylvie had been trying not to look at him.
Instead, she’d been examining the architecture like she was a real estate agent.
Dominic Crane’s house looked like a casino hotel in Vegas.
There were garish marble floors, gold trim on the light fixtures, even paintings on the walls of European cities like Venice and Paris. How much tackier could the man get?
But then, she’d made the mistake of briefly glancing up. And had found Dominic looking back.
With his regal features and dark curls, he was part rockstar, part anime character, with a sprinkling of emo boy thrown in. He was nearly as tall as Tanner, but with the elegant, lean musculature of a runner.
That tight T-shirt and loose pants that he’d obviously just thrown on without a single thought, the scruff on his face, tousled black hair… No human person had a right to be that effortlessly beautiful.
And now she was thinking about all the bad things those large hands had done. Such bad, bad things… Stop staring. He’s probably already noticed.
Sylvie suspected she’d been saying something nonsensical, because Crane and Priyanka were both snickering at her.
Gah, this was so embarrassing. Crane’s presence had put her off balance, just as she’d feared. She had to get her brain going again.
“Do you want the panel by the door, like the old one you’ve got here?”
“That works. You’re the expert.”
Okay, now he was mocking her. She’d claimed to be Max’s best, but she was making herself look like an ass. “Great. If only all my degenerate-murderer clients were so accommodating and helpful.”
He barked out a laugh.
She braced herself and looked at him again. But his smirk had faded. Now Crane just looked bored. Good. Maybe he’d leave her alone and let her get this finished as quickly as possible.
“Could I get some room to work, please?” Now she sounded petulant, but it was better than shooting heart eyes at him like he was in a Korean boy band.
“Dominic, perhaps you and I should go finish our lunch.” The housekeeper waved him toward the living room, where Sylvie spied a set of open patio doors. “My name is Maureen, by the way. You just let me know if you folks need anything at all.”
Sylvie held out her hand. “Thank you, Maureen. I’m Sylvie Trousseau. Pleased to meet you.”
Sylvie hoped she hadn’t offended the housekeeper by calling her boss a murderer. But then again, she couldn’t imagine anyone would work here by choice. Not unless Crane was paying Maureen bucketloads of money. And in that case, she probably didn’t care what anyone called her boss.
The woman took her hand and patted it politely. Sylvie felt a twinge of homesickness. Maureen had a Louisiana accent, like her dad. It had been years since Sylvie had left, but the old melancholy still crept up on her occasionally.
Crane and Maureen went out onto the patio, and Sylvie got to work.
First, they needed to install the new panel.
Luckily, the old one was already hard-wired, so Sylvie just had to switch them out instead of setting up any new connections.
She told Priyanka which tools she needed from the bag, happy to focus on her task instead of on her distracting client.
Quickly, Tanner got tired of watching them and went to sit on the porch. He was the type of person who always craved sunlight, while Sylvie was usually worried about getting burned.
She took the opportunity to walk Priyanka through the steps of connecting the wiring for the panel. Priyanka seemed to pick it up quickly, as she did everything when she was paying attention. But then, her focus started to wander.
“Isn’t he hot?” the assistant whispered.
Sylvie sent a worried glance over her shoulder, but Crane was still sitting out on the patio with his housekeeper. A breeze ruffled his hair, and his profile was every bit as striking as any model in a perfume ad.
“I guess so. But we shouldn’t be talking about this.”
“I can’t help it. All that man… Damn. I just want him to break me in half.”
Sylvie bugged her eyes at her assistant. “Priyanka, that is not a way to talk about a client.”
The girl’s nose wrinkled. “Crane? Oh, he’s okay. I’m talking about Tanner. Is he single? Do you think he might be into me?”
Good Lord. “I’m not answering any of those questions. Can we please stay focused on work?” Sylvie was going to have to show the girl that sexual-harassment video—again. Otherwise, Priyanka would end up in some sort of compromising position, and Max would blame Sylvie for a lack of proper training.
“Come on, Sylvie, you know I was kidding. Sort of. You’re not usually this serious.”
“She isn’t?” a deep voice asked.
Her shoulders tightened. Crane had snuck up right behind her.
“Why are you so serious today, Sylvie?” He said her name like he enjoyed rolling it around his tongue. The same way a cat might enjoy toying with a mouse.
“Because I have a lot to do when I get back to the office. I don’t usually waste my time doing installs.”
And she didn’t usually get so mouthy with their customers, either. She knew she was probably getting close to the line here. But would Max be that mad at her? He didn’t like Crane either. Not really.
“I’m wasting your time? Then why are you here?” He didn’t sound mockingly flirty anymore. He had the same tone of annoyance she’d been using on him.
“Because Max told me to.”
“You always do what he says?” Each time he spoke, Crane moved closer. He’d shifted to leaning against the wall beside the panel, where she had no choice but to look at him.
“I tried to talk him out of it.”
“Because I’m a degenerate murderer?”
“You guessed it.”
He took a step forward. His nostrils flared. Was he angry? Or was he smelling her?
Now that she thought of it, the man smelled pretty enticing himself. Not like soap or aftershave or detergent. Not the things Sylvie’s co-workers, or her exes, ever smelled like.
She couldn’t describe Dominic’s scent in any terms other than sex. The guy smelled like sweat and salt and arousal.
“You’re in my space,” she said.
He didn’t move. Just stared down at her. Priyanka was eying the two of them with her teeth digging into her lower lip. Sylvie couldn’t tell if her assistant was nervous or really enjoying this.
“Are you afraid of me, Sylvie?” His voice was a smooth, dangerous murmur. “Do you need to call your bodyguard back inside to protect you from me?”
“I can handle you just fine myself.” She poked a finger into his chest, finding firm muscle underneath.
But he didn’t move. And she didn’t lower her hand.
The corner of his mouth quirked. “How exactly do you intend to handle me?”
His exhales tickled her skin. His eyes bored into hers, utterly hypnotizing. One of those snakes that mesmerizes its prey. Sylvie’s foot lifted, and somehow she ended up another inch closer. Like he had some magnetic pull on her. The smell of him, his heartbeat…
Words vanished from her brain. A small noise snuck out of her, almost a whimper.
Then just as suddenly, Crane retreated. His smirk was back. “That’s what I thought,” he whispered. “Not an expert at everything, are you?” He pivoted, hands dipping into his pockets as he strolled away.
Sylvie could only stare after him. He’d been toying with her. The asshole.
Priyanka was right beside her. “What the heck was that?”
Crane was making a fool of me. And I just stood there and let him do it. “Nothing. Let’s get the Wi-Fi password from the housekeeper.”
“But I was totally getting angry-sex vibes from you two. I thought you guys were going to strip down right in front of the security panel. At least, I was hoping for that.”
Jeez, Sylvie’s assistant needed to get laid. The girl was over-the-top horny. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Wi-Fi password, Priyanka. Focus.”
She didn’t see Crane again for the rest of the afternoon. Yet Sylvie couldn’t get him out of her head, either.
It was like he’d known exactly how to push her buttons, all for the purpose of walking away and leaving her cold. He’d definitely known what he was doing.
Her dislike for the man had been purely abstract before. Now, it was personal.
Rationally, she knew that a man like Crane wouldn’t lead her anywhere good. He knew exactly how attractive he was, and he was a fucking jerk about it.
But unlike Sylvie’s boss Max, who also had a decent-sized ego, Crane didn’t care whom he hurt.
In fact, proving his effect on her had been the entire point.
Well, the guy could take his beautiful face and his athletic body and shove it into a wood chipper for all she cared.
She was never going to see him again if she could help it.
She didn’t care what Max said. She didn’t even care if every gang in Los Angeles came after Crane. No way was she doing him any favors again, on Max’s behalf or otherwise.