Carol wasn't made for the heat. She hadn't enjoyed it when she and Ed had lived in Georgia and she sure didn't enjoy it now that she was living in Australia. Everyone at the hospital told her she'd get used to the temperature eventually but after eight years she still couldn't stand it. She longed for a cool breeze to kiss the skin on the back of her neck. The heatwave the country had been experiencing for three solid days now showed no sign of abating. It was hotter than Hell and Carol couldn't stand it. The cold snap the States was experiencing sounded like a slice of Heaven compared to what she was dealing with in the sunburnt country. The only solace Carol took from the weather was that it provided her with a reason to finally install the back patio Ed had been so adamantly against when he'd been alive.

Getting this extension built was like a final fuck you aimed squarely at the lingering memory of her late husband.

She knew it was wrong to take delight in someone else's death, but her husband had been a cruel man fuelled by a black heart whose only joy in life had been making Carol miserable. In all honesty she was glad he was dead. He had been a sorry excuse for a human being. Ed's sole reason for forbidding the construction of the patio was his belief she would ogle the workmen involved. Carol had always scoffed at Ed's insecurities when this was brought up in conversation though. She had never been one to objectify men like they were a piece of meat.

The workers had started trickling into her backyard very early in the morning on the first day of construction. The foreman wanted to get a jump on the project before the temperature peaked in the afternoon and made work impossible from that point onwards. Carol had been quite content to let the men go about their business as she saw to various chores around the house. At one point she'd glanced out the dining room window to see how everything was moving along and she had seen him for the first time. One second she was watching an ocean of well-built men swelled about her yard and the next thing she knew it was like the seas had parted to reveal a Titan standing there. After all those years she finally understood the appeal of the 'hot construction worker' stereotype and her late husband's now justifiable concerns over her potential ogling. Up until that moment she had never understood why women went crazy for a man who spent each and every day dirty and covered in sweat, labouring away under an unrelenting sun. The sight of Ed perspiring had always made Carol cringe, not swoon. She never understood how some could be turned on by something as grotesque as a man in desperate need of a shower.

All it took was one look at him glistening in the morning sunlight as beads of sweat ran down his neck and soaked into the faded print of his sleeveless shirt and she got it finally. Carol instantly understood the appeal of a man like that. Instead of being disgusted by the sight of perspiration beading on his skin she had the sudden desire to lick every trickle of sweat clean off of him. Carol had never had such a wanton thought pop into her head like that before in her life.

As of that moment Carol found she had a new appreciation for the sweltering temperatures of Australia. And the views. The views were everything the brochures had promised and more. From her vantage point at the dining room window she was treated to a breathtaking view that morning.

The Titan had a mop of shaggy dark hair that was in desperate need of a wash. The numerous shirtless other workers scattered around her didn't even register to her; all she saw was him. He stood in the centre of the yard, a length of lumber balanced on top his right shoulder. The sheer size of the piece of timber called for it to be a two man job in Carol's opinion but he seemed to handling the weight just fine. As if further trying to demonstrate his physical prowess he had then managed to hold onto the beam one-handed while he reached behind himself and retrieve a red rag. The sweat from his face and neck was swiftly wiped away before returning the square of fabric to his back pocket. A pair of piercing blue eyes slowly scanned the yard before he hefted the timber higher up on his shoulder, took a step to the side and promptly disappeared amongst the swarm of men who had descended on her land like locusts.

If she hadn't of witnessed it with her own eyes Carol would not have believed God actually made men that looked like that. He belonged in the pages of Vogue, not doing hard manual labour in the blistering heat. The worker became a fascination for her after that first sighting. Every chance she got Carol found herself sneaking peaks through the curtains, trying to catch a glimpse of the man who invaded her thoughts in the most distracting way. By midday the few fleeting glimpses she'd caught of him working wasn't enough to satisfy her curiosity. She needed more.

She used the ploy of delivering drinks to the parched workers to get a better look at him. Her eyes scanned the assembled crowd quickly before she found what she'd been searching for. He sat with his back against the far fence and a cigarette poised between his lips. She'd watch with fascination as he dipped his head, lit the cigarette and proceeded to inhale slowly. He'd thrown his head back against the fence and taken a deep drag, savouring the smoke before he released it in a billowing cloud that rose slowly skyward.

It wasn't the act of smoking that Carol found enthralling as she watched him that day; it was the look of ecstasy plastered over his features as he did so. Never before had she seen a man enjoy a cigarette so much before. As he smoked his face relaxed, making him look much younger than she suspected he really was.

Carol was not a smoker. She had never touched a cigarette before in her life but after watching that scene she could have easily smoked her way through an entire carton all by herself.

After that the deliveries of food and drink became a twice-daily occurrence between her shifts at the hospital. Every time she delivered a fresh batch of sandwiches or a jug of water she'd hope that he would come over and strike up a conversation but her efforts appeared to be in vain.

With each passing day Carol turned more and more into the woman her late husband had feared her to be. She lingered in the mornings before leaving for work just to catch a glimpse of him. Watching the delicious-looking man work up a sweat had become a daily ritual that she enjoyed over her morning coffee. One the third morning she'd been too busy watching him bend over as he picked up a hammer to realize the mug she'd ben sipping from had missed her mouth entirely, sending a stream of scolding coffee straight down the front of her clean scrubs. Luckily the fabric absorbed most the burning liquid but she'd still landed up with a pink tinge to the skin of her chest for the rest of the day. A little discomfort was worth it thought to see that man's ass straining against the denim of his jeans.

How she wanted to throw the door open, stride across the yard and bite into the firm skin of his behind. Thoughts like that had been popping into her head more frequently as the week progressed.

Truth be told, he was the only reason she kept delivering sandwiches and drinks to the men working in her backyard. The rest of the men didn't work half as hard as he did. Every time she came out she hoped he'd speak to her, she hoped he'd make some move, any move, but she quickly learnt that the man was too shy to try anything like that. He went about his job with quiet efficiency but never joined in the other workmen when they were horsing around. He was different from the other men on the crew. Where the others got loud and rambunctious on occasion he was nothing but quiet and respectful.

The man who had hit on her that first day had been anything but respectful. After trying unsuccessfully to talk his way into her bed the arrogant asshole who had introduced himself as Merle Dixon had spent the rest of the day bothering the Titan with the piercing blue eyes. From the interaction she witness between the two Carol had deducted they had to be related. Both shared similar facial features and builds but it was Merle's attitude that told her they could brothers. He bossed the younger man around and seemed to take great delight in annoying him for no apparent reason other than his own amusement.

Later in the week Carol learnt the Titan was named Daryl and that she had been right; he was indeed the younger brother of Merle Dixon.

She wasn't interested in the older brother though. It was the younger one she found herself thinking about when she was showering at night. Imagining his hard hands drifting over her body as she lathered soap down her chest, skimming along the slope of her breasts, pinching her nipples until the tiny peaks were pebble hard beneath her palms. She'd let her hands trail further down her torso, dipping into the curve of her sex before sliding one finger into herself using an agonizingly slow pace. Thoughts of Daryl swirled through her mind as she worked herself into a frenzy, finally reaching her climax with a strangled gasp and leaving her holding onto the curtain rail for support as she crested over the peak of her pleasure.

Ed had never made her feel that way. In fact, it been years since anything other than a vibrator had elicited that sort of response from her.

Carol knew what she was doing could be construed as insane. She was acting like a lovesick teenager over a man she had never spoken one word to. But foolish or not she continued her surveillance of the quiet labourer with the dark hair and piercing blue eyes.

The only reason Carol had volunteered to work Australia Day was because she knew none of the workers would show up on a Sunday, much less one of the most important public holidays in the country. As she'd learnt when first moving to the sunburnt country, tradie's didn't do Sundays…or Saturdays…or public holidays for that matter.

Carol felt a pang of regret that she wouldn't get to see Daryl's brilliant blue eyes at all that weekend. And considering it was a long weekend that made the wait to catch a glimpse of him again on Tuesday all the more painful. It felt like the next three days would drag on forever.

Maybe she would call in sick on her next rostered day on so she could get in a full eight hours of watching the workman do his thing. She was suffering from a terrible bought of love sickness after all. Extreme cases like this called for immediate medical attention. Every time she caught sight of him she felt her temperature rising. Plus, come Tuesday she would have three days' worth of casual glances to catch up on.

As tempting as the idea sounded, Carol would not be that irresponsible. Work was a commitment she couldn't shirk, no matter how love sick and irrational she'd been acting. The patio would be finished in a week's time and then she might finally stop getting distracted by visions of a man who didn't even know she existed.


The ER had been surprising quite the afternoon of Australia Day. It looked like the locals were taking it easy for a change. Carol was thankful for the quite change of pace though. Between lusting after Daryl and pulling the graveyard shift two nights in a row she was dead on her feet. Her desire to work the late hours had nothing to do with her being a night owl and everything to so with her want to oversee the patio construction; more specifically, one worker in particular. She was so enamoured with the blue-eyed man that she had adjusted her work schedule to accommodate when he would be at her home. More often than not the nurse found her thoughts drifting away from the puzzle book she was attempting to complete and back to the sweaty workman who had invaded her dreams the previous night.

It had been a good dream too. A really good dream. Totally worth the sleep-deprivation she was suffering today.

When the Head Nurse saw Carol swaying with exhaustion and her eyes drooping shut she ordered the woman home instantly. She was given strict instructions to go straight to bed and get some much needed rest.

When Carol arrived home to find Daryl working in her backyard, dressed only in a tiny pair of boxers and nothing else but a pair of beat-up boots and a tool belt slung around his waist she had the sudden desire to follow the Matron's orders to the letter. Well…almost to the letter. The widow definitely wanted to go straight to bed but the last thing she want to do after seeing that man near naked and working up a sweat was get any rest. Quite the contrary actually. She was certain she'd never get any sleep again with that image seared into her brain.

She'd come home to find an unfamiliar vehicle parked in the driveway and Daryl toiling away under the patio, completely unaware to her return. The fact that he was standing on top of a ladder practically naked showed he hadn't expected company anytime soon. All the other men on the construction crew made it a habit to work shirtless but Daryl was the one exception to that rule. Every day that he had been on her property the man had always remained fully clothed. From watching his interactions with the other workers she assumed he was just shy about such things.

The first thing she noticed once she got over the shock of finding him in that state of undress was the tattoo etched just above his heart. He was too far away for her to make out what it said, but Carol was almost sure it was a name written in script. Good Lord, how she wanted to trace that tattoo with her tongue. Spell out every letter as she caressed his chest with her mouth before biting down hard on the nipple just below.

Balanced on top of that ladder with his arms stretched above his head like that made Daryl look like something straight out of a nude calendar. If someone was to take a poll he'd definitely get her vote for Mr January. And February. Hell…she'd take twelve straight months of staring at that man in that state of undress with a tool belt slung low across his waist and sweat pouring down his exposed chest. She watched as he stretched, trying to reach a far corner without manoeuvring the ladder any closer. He stuck the tip of his tongue out and bit down on it while completing the complicated move.

The entire time she watched him Carol couldn't help but wonder what that tongue would feel like licking and lapping at the apex of her thighs. The scruff on his chin looked like it would tickle. How she longed to test out the theory and see if the hair on his face would provide tickle or torture. The image of his head was bobbing up and down between her legs as he devoured her sex was almost too much to bear.

Maybe the fine scuff of hair would tickle her in just the right way after all...

Carol fanned herself with her hand as she kept her eyes locked on the sweaty man toiling away outside. She watched as his nimble fingers deftly worked to secure the beams overhead. Thoughts of his calloused hands running over her body like that…flicking her nipples to attention…drifting down her body until those same fingers buried deep in her sex…pumping his digits in and out with determination-

Good Lord, it was hot inside all of a sudden!

Carol shook herself, snapping out of the erotic fantasy. More and more she was finding herself lost in daydreams starring the almost naked man standing under the shade of the patio. There was no use thinking such thoughts about him like that. It was a one-sided thing she was sure. There was no way a man who looked like that would be interested in her. She was no longer twenty five. Her hair had gone grey long ago. One thing she was thankful for was that her breasts were still pert. First time in her life Carol was thankful for being blessed with a less than amble bosom.

Maybe she should go change out of her scrubs and into a tight fitting top before Daryl realized he was no longer alone. She had made it a habit that week to wear more form-fitting attire whenever delivering the sandwiches outside. You couldn't catch a fish without first baiting the hook after all.

This was absurd. Here she was, a woman old enough to know better, eying up the almost naked man outside her window like he was a dancer at a strip club. If she did get his attention, then what? What could she say to him? I've got something you can nail. Carol covered her face with her hands, sighing with frustration as she did so. It had been so long since she'd done anything like this. What did you even say to a man like that to get his attention?

Maybe she could persuade him inside with a plea of there's something I need help with in the bedroom…

This was crazy. She was acting crazy. If she was interested she needed to square her shoulders, march outside and ask him out on a date. As much as she enjoyed the fantasies, she found she wanted to get to know the quiet man who had turned up to her home to work on a Sunday. She knew that whatever he was doing out there he'd done on his own time and on his own dime. It had been too long since she'd met a man like that; a man of honour.

Carol had made up her mind. She was going to go out there, introduce herself to him and then ask if he wanted a beer. After all, he had been working for God knows how long in her yard under a blistering sun during the middle of a heatwave. The man was sure to be parched. It was a simple plan. It was a foolproof plan. There was just one problem though. In the time it took for Carol to go to the refrigerator, retrieve two beers, find a bottle opener and flick the lids off Daryl had put his pants back on and was gathering his tools together. He was moving quicker than she'd ever seen and Carol knew without a doubt that he was trying to make a quick exit before he was discovered.

Too late for that.

Before she knew what she was doing Carol had rushed to the glass door and thrown it open, the two beers left forgotten on the kitchen counter. She was still dressed in her scrubs and she probably looked a hot mess but that didn't matter. Carol had the sudden epiphany that if she didn't seize this perfect opportunity right now to speak to Daryl when they were free of an audience she might never have this chance again. He would be gone in a week's time and she would never see him after that. What did she have to lose?

"Finished?" Carol asked from her vantage point in the doorway. It wasn't the smoothest line but the sight of Daryl bending to pick up nail gun had rendered her ability to form structured sentences useless.

Lord only knew what had possessed her to approach him before he had even finished dressing. The muscles in his shoulders froze no sooner than he heard her voice. The toolbox he'd been in the act of picking up crashed loudly to the paving below. Quicker than she thought humanly possible the man had scooped up his shirt and singlet and was redressing himself. The undershirt was hastily tugged back in place, obscuring his chest from her view. He threw the sleeveless shirt over top but struggled when he tried to do the buttons up. His hands were shaking as he tried unsuccessfully to get the tiny obstacles to co-operate. Eventually his hands stopped shaking long enough to navigate the tiny circles through their respective holes. He raised his face to her finally and Carol was shocked to see he'd turned a deep shade of crimson in the time it took to announce her presence to him.

"Didn't think no-one was home," he said finally, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

The sweet sound of his gravelly southern drawl shouldn't have surprised her but Carol found herself taken aback when she heard it. There was no disputing Merle Dixon was a native of the great state of Georgia just like she was, so she had just assumed Daryl would share the same accent. It was still strange to hear something from so far away so close after all this time though.

"I wasn't," she shrugged, "but it was quieter than anticipated at work. Let me go early." It was mostly the truth. It wasn't like she could the man that she'd practically fallen asleep because she'd been having trouble getting any rest since she'd laid eyes on him.

He raised his thumb to his mouth and started chewing on the nail. "I'll be leavin' then. Just wanted to get some work finished up 'fore the weekend was over. Didn't mean any trouble ma'am-"

"Carol." She cut him off with a shake of her head. "Call me Carol." She appreciated good manners as much as the next person, but she had not desire for him to call her ma'am. She wanted to hear him use her name. In all honestly she wanted to hear him moan her name.

"Mm-hmm," he grunted, his eyes glued to the ground. "I'll be going then," he said, scooping up the toolbox he'd dropped a moment ago. "Finished up anyway."

"Why don't you come inside? The air conditioner's not working but it's a mite-side cooler in the house than out here." Carol turned and walked back into her home without waiting for an answer. With a shy man like Daryl you couldn't make him do something he didn't want to do. Better to act casual. "You want a beer?" she'd asked over her shoulder. "Ice cold," she added as an afterthought. It wasn't much, but what man could resist a cold beer on a hot day like today? The woman didn't turn to see if he'd followed her lead and come inside, but the scuff of boots connecting with her floorboards announced that the man had in fact taken her up on her offer.

"So long as it's not that Foster's shit," he replied, the sound of the door sliding shut following his words. "Had enough of that crap forced down my throat since we got here."

She chuckled at his candour. "You know they don't really drink that here, right?" she asked, picking up the hastily forgotten beers and holding one out to him. True to her word, it wasn't that 'Foster's shit' as he had so eloquently put it.

Daryl tentatively reached for the offered drink, moving with the speed of an injured animal evaluating a potential threat. Their finger's brushed when his hand finally connected with the bottle and a shot of electricity ran up Carol's arm. Their eyes locked and at that moment Carol knew he'd felt it too. That, and the fact a soft blush was overtaking his face no sooner than their hands had connected.

He jerked away from her quickly and took a step backwards. "Thanks," he said, nodding his head almost imperceptibly before taking a swig.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as each nursed their beers. Carol wasn't sure of what to say to him now she'd gotten him past the threshold of her home. It was her idea to invite him in but it had been years since she'd even attempted to hit on a man. She was rusty at best and had no idea how to attempt seducing him. One thing Carol did know was that she didn't want Daryl leaving any time soon. If he walked out that door she knew she'd never get this chance with him again. She had to come up with something to keep the quiet man in her home a little longer while she formulated a plan.

"You want something to eat?" she asked suddenly, turning away from him and walking to the refrigerator. "You must have worked up an appetite out there in the heat." Without waiting for an answer Carol moved into the kitchen and started putting together the ingredients for a turkey sandwich.

"You ain't gotta do that," he said, his words lacking the conviction to reinforce them.

"You earned it," Carol answered, smiling brightly at him. "Doing all that work out there on the weekend." She placed the sandwich on the bench top and motioned for him to take a seat on the stool tucked underneath. "Not many men would come by on a day like today."

The corner of Daryl's mouth turned up slightly with a grin before he bobbed his head down and out of her sight. Again he followed her instructions and sat down where she had indicated. Carol watched with amusement as he preceded to dig into the meal like it was the finest food ever to pass his lips.

Ed had never responded to her cooking like that. Not that two pieces of bread and some cold cuts was much in the way of culinary creation, but still…Ed had never eaten with a look of sheer euphoria on his face like Daryl did now. As the worker ate the lines on his face melted away, much like when she'd watched him smoking a cigarette on that first day.

Carol thought it was a turn-on watching him work but she'd been wrong. It was hotter than Hell watching him look so relaxed because of something she was responsible for.

She'd manager to lure Daryl into her house with the promise of beer. The promise of food prolonged his time there.

Now, how did she make sure he didn't leave once he was finished that sandwich?

A/N: Ok, I know I promised you all some delicious smut-filled chapter and I apologise for not delivering. Chapter 3 will have all those goodies and more (if you need something to tide you over, may I indulge in some shameless self-promotion and suggest you read my first foray into smut entitled 'Room 305' – it's filled with sex-a-plenty). I really intended this to be down and dirty for chapter 2 and that would be the end of the story, but as soon as I started typing I found myself wanted to explore Carol's POV before our couple got all bow-chicka-wow-wow on us. I wanted to show it wasn't just a one-sided infatuation on Daryl's behalf. By giving Carol's POV I think it'll lead more believably in to the adult situations awaiting us next chapter. Thanks again for reading and reviewing. I appreciate everyone taking a chance with this story.