She slapped his hand away and watched the amusement light those grass-green eyes. He smelled of soap and his dark brown hair was just as untamed as before, the scent of sea air clinging to him. In her research of the Amoteh Resort, she'd discovered that Stepnov preferred to hire locals, and this man's tanned skin said he spent time outdoors, the lighter laugh lines around his eyes crinkling. This big broad hands and the width of his shoulders said he was a physical man and spent little time behind a desk.
She understood "desk-men." They understood tit for tat in the business world, and spared little time for pleasantries that weren't getting them anything. She didn't understand the handyman's almost flirtatious interest in her. "I tip well for good service," she said to waylay any ideas that he might have of the payment form.
He'd shaved, the light gleaming on his cheeks and just that humorous turn of his lips, and she sensed that he was challenging her.
