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have a problem getting dirty,” he said with a sly grin. “I just can’t afford to go back to work looking like I rolled around on a basement floor.”
    His velvet tone made it difficult not to read innuendo into the comment. Before the mental picture developed further, I stood up and crossed to the other side of the room. The dusting cloths were in the cabinet with the cleaning supplies. Tossing a couple to Hayden, I kept one for myself and sat back down beside him.
    He was organized and methodical as he inspected each treasure, wiping them down with gentle hands. The care he took as he handled delicate pieces, even the things he didn’t want, gave me insight into the kind of artist he was. I imagined he worked on his clients with the same vigilant precision.
    “You want to tell me what really happened to your hand?”
    I peeked up at him, thankful my hair created a barrier through which to view him and still shield my face. I didn’t know why the question surprised me. It shouldn’t have. “Nope.”
    He chuckled and remained quiet for some time, sifting through the boxes. He handed me the things he didn’t want, and I put them into an empty box. Each time he did, I surreptitiously inspected the artwork on his arms.
    “Lisa tells me you have an idea for some ink.” Hayden stopped sorting to focus on me.
    I nodded. I had already entertained showing him the design, thanks to Lisa. Since being near him made me feel like I was having heart palpitations, I couldn’t help but be wary. There was intimacy in committing art to skin. I already found Hayden unnervingly enticing for a variety of reasons, not the least of which had to do with his severe brand of beauty. Being around him more wouldn’t lessen that, and the piece I had in mind was no small thing.
    “I’d be happy to check it out if you want to stop by the shop later.”
    “I’ll think about it.” After a protracted silence I finally asked, “How long have you been a tattoo artist?”
    “Close to six years. I started as a piercer when I was eighteen, but it wasn’t for me.”
    “Why not?”
    Hayden wiped his hands on a fresh cloth and tucked my hair behind my ear, tracing the shell as he did so. The ladder of helix rings clicked dully against each other. “You’d look good with an industrial,” he said softly. I shivered even though I suddenly felt hot.
    He motioned to his face and poked at the viper bites with his tongue. “If they were all this kind of thing, it wouldn’t have been an issue.”
    “What was the issue?”
    “I’m afraid I’m not much of a sadist, and it takes a certain type of person to be able to stick a needle through a dick.”
    Fortunately, I wasn’t holding anything breakable. “Okay. Right. I didn’t think about that.”
    He laughed at my reaction. “I pierced for a few months before I started apprenticing to be a tattooist. For about a year and a half I had to do both. After a few years I built up a solid client base and a decent reputation in the business, and Chris and Jamie convinced me we should go out on our own.”
    “So you opened Inked Armor?”
    “We did. I was only twenty-one at the time, but it’s been four years and we’re still doing well.”
    “You were so young.” I couldn’t imagine taking on that kind of responsibility at this point in my life.
    He shrugged. “I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen, and it seemed like a smart thing to do. Anyway, I haven’t put a hole in anybody’s junk since we opened our shop.”
    “So you’re not a fan of piercings from the neck down?” Heat climbed my chest toward my cheeks. I shouldn’t have asked that question, because all sorts of inappropriate images popped into my head.
    “I didn’t say that.”
    I opened my mouth, searching for words. None came.
    “The ones from here down aren’t just decorative.” He ran his hand over his chest, down to his belt buckle.
    “You’re not one for holding back, are you?”
    He grinned. “It’s not