Yolanda Paterson found the perfect man. He’s kind, helpful, smart, and sexier than any Playgirl cover model. He does things to her body that should be considered illegal in some states. What more could a woman need, right? There’s just a couple of problems. One, he’s a younger man, and two—and this is a big one—he’s her best friend’s nephew. Having completed a teaching internship at Yale, Lawrence returns home. It’s great to see his Aunt Lizzy and Uncle Hank. It’s amazing to see Yolanda Paterson. He’d had the typical neighborhood boy crush on her. But now, he’s a grown man with needs…and he needs his aunt’s best friend.
“Wow, that’s a serious toolbox,” she said as she let Lawrence inside.
“It’s Uncle Hank’s. He doesn’t seem to get much use of it.” He turned and winked at her.
“Yeah, Liz and I noticed.”
He followed her to the kitchen, set the toolbox on the table, and picked up the fallen cabinet. “It’s chipped here on the corner, too. I noticed it earlier, when I saw it lying on the floor.”
“Probably when it fell.” Yolanda returned to her laptop to finish a client’s web page. “Let me know if you need any help.”
“Nah, I got everything under control. I brought something to fix it good as new. You might want to put some cotton in your ears though. I have to use the power saw to cut through the wall.”
“Goodness. Are you sure you can handle this? Maybe we should get a professional.”
“Hey, are you doubting my handyman prowess?” he asked, quirking his brow.
“Sorry.” The last comment made her think about his other skills. Good Lord, she needed to stop thinking of him in a sexual way. Okay, he was too young for her and he was also her best friend’s nephew. Those facts alone should do it.
He laughed. “I told you, I got it all under control.”
“Huh? Oh, great.” She gathered up her laptop and moved to the kitchen’s center island. She sat on the stool, getting a good view of Lawrence and making sure nothing unexpected happened, like the ceiling caving in.
He put on his safety glasses, plugged in the power saw, and turned it on. She covered her ears. It was loud. He cut into the wall, and dust and debris flew all over the place.
“Oh hell!” he yelled, and turned off the machine.
Yolanda leapt from the stool. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing about the walls. But I’m wearing my favorite shirt, and I’m getting stuff all over it.” He set down the power tool, stripped off his shirt, and folded it neatly, placing it on the table.
She stared, memorized. His body was just short of mythical. When did he have time to develop muscles like those? Does he work out for hours, or is it genetics? And why am I drooling?