Handyman. Jodi Lynn Copeland

      Typically Thad wasn’t one for sizing another man up. But then, typically he wasn’t greeted at a potential pleasure client’s door by said client’s husband. Or boyfriend. Or whatever the hell the admittedly good-looking, clean-shaven, brown-haired guy in the tailored black pants, matching tie, and mint green dress shirt was to Lissa. “You must be Sam.”

      With a nod, Sam slid his gaze the length of Thad, lingering a little too long for comfort in the area of his groin. Sam returned his attention to Thad’s face to reveal an amused smile. “You must be Mr. Nice Guy.”

      “Sam was just leaving,” a low, throaty feminine voice said from behind Sam.

      Sam stepped back from the doorway, and the owner of that sexy voice came into view and had Thad hoping to hell she was Lissa and her interest in him was purely physical.

      Pleasure clients rarely greeted him in casual clothes, preferring lingerie, tight dresses, or nothing at all. This woman’s clothes were casual. The way she filled them out was anything but. From her generous breasts to her curvy hips and thighs, she was the type of woman the term hourglass figure was coined for.

      She was also remotely familiar.

      A warm smile curved her lipstick-free lips. She swept a hank of loose copper, shoulder-length hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear before extending her hand to him. “Lissa Malone.”

      Despite the fact he was no saint and the hell-bent rebel years of his youth, Thad had always believed in God. Moments like this with natural beauties like her conveyed his existence that much more.

      “Thad Davies.” Her hand was warm in his, her skin soft. The scent of vanilla drifted to him. Not strong or perfumey, like so many of his clients wore, but the subtle scent of lotion or body wash. “So you’re worried about getting wet?”

      Sam gave a deep chuckle, reminding Thad of his presence. Moving next to Lissa, Sam pulled her into his arms and whispered something in her ear that had her laughing as well. He released her to give Thad a look that could mean “hands off” as easily as “treat her right,” then nodded a good-bye and took off down the covered porch to the sidewalk.

      Lissa looked back at Thad. “Should I be worried?”

      Between the sensual interest in her jade green eyes now and the sultry sound of her laughter moments ago, he suddenly remembered where he’d seen her before.

      In his favorite wet dream. Had to be.

      Sam left them alone, but his parting look didn’t guarantee it was with permission to fuck. Since Thad still wasn’t 100 percent sure that was the reason he was here, he played it safe. “Possibly. I can only tell so much from what you said over the phone.”

      Barefooted, she turned and started walking away. He closed the door and followed, because what in the hell else was he going to do?

      Lissa led him through a small, open living room that branched off in two directions. She veered to the right and headed down a short hallway to a closed door at the end of it. Glancing at him over her shoulder, she said in that ultra-hot voice, “The worst of the problems are in here.”

      She pushed in the door to reveal “here” was a bedroom. On the trip over, he’d assured his cock it wouldn’t be getting any action, but that didn’t stop it from rising to attention with the prospect. Not even the nearly overwhelming African safari theme was enough to halt the hardening effect, especially when he looked a little closer.

      Mating elephants adorned the wall tapestry hanging over the bed and a trio of bronze monkeys were seeing, hearing, and doing each other on a bamboo table near the headboard. The comforter featured an entire aborigine tribe fornicating in every way imaginable. It wasn’t his style, but the erotic décor suggested she was his kind of woman. Rather, his kind of client. “Nice bedroom.”

      “I’ll tell Sam you approve of his taste.”

      Sam slept here? Somehow the room didn’t quite gel as being entirely masculine. Neither had the way Sam’s attention lingered on his crotch. Was the guy gay? Or bi? More important, did Lissa sleep somewhere else?

      “As you can see, the damage is getting pretty bad.”

      Thad followed her gaze to the ceiling to discover there truly was water damage. Well, hell, could he be lucky enough to have this be a two-in-one call?

      “Sam said he felt the ceiling last night and it’s really soft.”

      “I don’t doubt it. If you look close, you can tell it’s starting to bulge.” Realizing what a play on words that was, he glanced over at Lissa. She was taking a lesson out of Sam’s book by ogling his groin. Only, coming from Lissa, the ogling was much appreciated. “There damage anywhere else in the house?”

      Her gaze shot to his face. Freckles he hadn’t previously noticed scattered across her cheeks and along the bridge of her nose with her guilty smile. That smile turned teasing, and open desire sizzled in her eyes.

      She clearly wanted to make a move. The noticeably solid state of his dick confirmed he wanted the same. So why was she hesitating? Was this truly supposed to be just a construction appointment, or was her relationship with Sam the problem?

      She turned away and started toward the door. “My bedroom’s down the hall. We should probably get to it.”

      That answered that. Sam wasn’t a problem. The enticing sway of her hips as she traveled the short distance to her room suggested there wasn’t a problem at all.

      Thad stepped into the bedroom behind her, glad to see she wasn’t harboring a safari fetish. Her room was decorated in cool shades of green and blue with touches of pink mixed in throughout. The bed in the center of the room was only partially made. The sheets and comforter had been tossed back in a way that hinted she wanted him to crawl inside.

      He pulled his attention to the ceiling and did a quick inspection. “I don’t see any cracks or signs of water damage.”

      “Maybe it would help if you lay on the bed.”

      Something told him that was as blatant an invitation as he was going to get. It could be Lissa was a doer, not a sayer.

      Going with the idea, he toed off his work boots and reclined back on the bed, with his arms folded beneath his head. The subtle scent of vanilla clung to the sheets, making his body ache with the want to say to hell with the ceiling and pull her down on the bed beneath him. “Nope. Still nothing.”

      “Do you want me to come over there and show you where the moisture’s gathering?”

      Her voice was lower than ever, and he looked over to discover she still stood near the door. Movement near her sides caught his attention. He glanced down to find her hands fisting and unfisting. Nerves? “We should talk fees first.”

      “You seem like a nice guy. I trust you to charge me fairly.”

      “Is that what you want, a nice guy?” Far from a typical request—women always wanted him at his wildest.

      Thad recalled Sam’s greeting words then. He’d called him Mr. Nice Guy and flashed an amused smile. Sam must favor rough sex and agreed to this pleasure session to give Lissa a chance to experience slower loving in a manner that wouldn’t mean having to go slow himself. The asshole.

      “I’m really out of my element here.” She let out an anxious-sounding laugh. “I’ve never done this sort of thing before. Sam usually handles it.”

      He