Smooth Operator: Romancing the Phone, #2

CHAPTER 1

Barton Holloway scratched at eight days’ worth of beard stubble on his neck and then flipped on his turn signal for the next driveway. The lane led toward a white farmhouse set in the middle of a stand of massive oak trees, his single headlight illuminating the leaf-strewn gravel in the quickly approaching dusk.

Rose Chambers. Owner of Bell Lumber.

She would be interviewing him for the delivery driver job at her lumberyard.

He’d once had a crush on a girl named Rose in high school—long before his pair of short-lived marriages. The image of the leggy young woman with long brown hair, brown eyes, and glasses formed in his mind. He smiled, warmed by the memory. God, he missed being fourteen and not having a care in the world, other than attracting the attention of the gorgeous troublemaker four years his senior.

Rosie Kovac. I wonder where she is now.

Hopefully, this Rose would give him the opportunity to switch from long-haul driving to local deliveries. His back would sure appreciate the change. Nearly three decades of sitting behind the wheel of a big rig had taken its toll on his forty-six-year-old body.

He shut off the purring engine of his rebuilt Harley, took off his helmet, and downed the dregs of the convenience-store coffee from his insulated mug. A shudder rippled through him at the bitter aftertaste, but he shook it off. His interview took precedence over a twelve-hour nap after more than a week on the road.

Returning the mug to its holder, he engaged the kickstand and swung his leg over the seat. His legs protested the walk to the wraparound porch and the short climb up the three steps. At least the pinched nerve in his left hip wasn’t to blame. Nope, this time the culprit was the combination of roughly six thousand miles in a week, the damp fall weather, and an old football injury.

Middle age sucks.

Despite being fifteen minutes early for their Saturday evening appointment, he pulled in a chilly breath and raised his fist to knock on the side door—the one Ms. Chambers, possibly his future employer, had directed him to use in her email.

Before he made contact, a husky feminine groan carried through what looked to be a partially opened window a few feet to the left of the door. I love the feel of your balls in my hand. Do you want me to squeeze them? How about if I eat your cock and swallow it whole? I want to suck it while Ella licks my clit.

A threesome?

A hint of interest flickered behind Barton’s zipper, waking him up faster than the high-octane coffee he’d chugged. Of course, jacking off to the free girl-on-girl-on-guy porn soundtrack right then and there wasn’t exactly an option. Too bad his last attempt at a relationship had resulted in getting dumped about three or four years ago, because real sex would hit the spot better than going solo again.

Another reason forty-six bites.

Yeah, just like that, baby. Mmm. Oh, that feels so good. Her sexy voice sounded closer, maybe right on the other side of the glass. She moaned again, and sucking noises joined in the fuck fest.

When he retreated a step to go wait by his bike, movement in the window caught his attention. A backlit pair of hands wrapped around a rigid dick-shaped appendage beyond the thin curtains moved up and down in a steady motion. The sucking sounds continued, along with some heavy panting and several breathy sighs, even though no mouth covered the head of the stiff cock. Was it from Ella going down on his kinky boss-to-be?

Play with my nipples, Kip. God, I’m so close. Oh. Oh. Oh. Yes! I’m coming, Ella! Now! Oh, God! Yes!

Keening carried to Barton’s ears, and he clenched his jaw to keep from groaning with her. While he enjoyed porn as much as the next guy, voyeurism had never been on his radar. The woman had a sexy as hell voice, all low and smooth and husky, like a shot of aged whiskey gliding down his throat. Damn, he needed a cigarette, and he didn’t even smoke.

No other orgasmic noises followed, which seemed a little weird, considering her steady pumping on the rod in her grip. I hope that was as good for you as it was for me. Same time next week? Okay. Have an awesome night, Kip.

The sucking suddenly ended, and a gurgle and slurp followed.

About fucking time you unplugged, stupid sink. The business end of a plunger appeared for a moment before she plunked it into a now-visible bucket on what was probably a counter. I hope you enjoyed getting sucked off as much as Kip.

Barton slapped his hand over his mouth to hold in a laugh, but he only succeeded in creating a massive fart impersonation.

Who’s out there? His no-longer-future employer whipped back the curtain and pressed her cheek against the bug screen. Her thick-framed glasses tilted, leaving them crooked across her nose and eyes, but she stared right at him. Shit. You’re here for the job interview, aren’t you? You’re early. I can explain, but I’m not going to. Give me a sec.

He bit down on his lower lip to keep from grinning. At least the woman owned her behavior and didn’t give a damn if anyone approved or disapproved. Take your time.

After the bang of what sounded like a cabinet closing and then faint footsteps, the door swung inward, revealing a tallish woman in baggy overalls and work boots. One strap hung down to her hip and half the bib draped across her right breast. A pert nipple poked at her flannel shirt, hinting that she might not be wearing a bra.

A perfect breast. Not too big. Not too small. Just right.

He lifted his gaze to her face as she raised the eyebrow that wasn’t half hidden by a thick fall of glossy brown hair. Despite his dick swelling behind his zipper again and being caught checking her out, he offered his hand. Ms. Chambers? Barton Holloway.

She narrowed her eyes as she met his grip with an equally firm one. Then she gestured for him to enter and led him into the room with the window—the kitchen. Call me Rose. If you repeat any of what you overheard or speculate about it, your ass is fired. Understood?

Sure, but I didn’t know you hired me yet. He sat in the chair she indicated, not sure whether to celebrate his new job or quit. Maybe you should tell me more about what I’ll be doing.

Leaning her hip against the counter, she crossed her arms under her attention-grabbing breasts. Loading and unloading lumber. Standard sizes up to sixteen feet long. Plywood. Trusses. You’ll be making local deliveries within twenty-five miles. Ninety percent of my customers are builders and contractors, so you’ll have multiple large orders per day. Can you handle a forklift?

He nodded and forced his eyes to stay focused on her neck and above. Yep.

Her expression didn’t change. How about a flatbed truck? Do you know anything about repairs and maintenance on Freightliner diesel engines?

I can drive flatbeds, dump trucks, eighteen-wheelers, and pretty much every other kind of truck, car, and bike. Manual and automatic. He rested his elbows on the table, still studying her unreadable face. What kind of business owner hired a person and conducted the job interview after the fact? I’ve done most of my own repairs on the rigs I’ve driven for going on twenty years. I also worked in my grandpa’s repair shop before I got my CDL.

She picked up a folder from the counter, crossed to where he sat, and set the file in front of him. That’s why I’m hiring you. It’s time to discuss wages and fill out the paperwork. The background check came back clear, but you’ll need to take a drug test since you’ll be operating heavy equipment. I can’t afford a lawsuit or damages. Starting salary is in the offer letter.

You’re thorough. I’ll give you that. And decisive. He flipped open the folder. Got a—

Right here. In a single smooth motion, she unclipped a pen from her bib pocket and handed it to him. Take your time reading everything. I’d rather not have to fill the job again for at least a few years. Can I get you a glass of water or some iced tea? Unsweet.

I’m good, thanks. Despite her voice still strumming his nerve endings, he picked up the top page of the half dozen or so papers. The letters blurred until he straightened his arm and blinked twice.

How about a pair of reading glasses? Her visible eyebrow rose again as she reached for the overflowing basket on the counter. The change in her profile lit a spark in his belly as she gave him a clear view of the nearly shaved side of her head and a heart-shaped birthmark below her ear.

No way. The whispered reaction spilled out of his mouth before his brain fully engaged.

She frowned at him over