She moved again, this time putting herself directly in front of Bellamy and leaving only six inches—or less—between them. “If I give you the name, I’d like something in return.”
His eyes rapidly narrowed. “What?”
She halved the distance so now only three inches remained. She was close enough she could hear his breathing.
If he was intimidated by her nearness, he wasn’t showing it. He didn’t move and didn’t react, not even in surprise.
She had the urge to walk her fingers up his arm and across his chest as she’d once seen her oldest sister, Finola, do with her husband, Riley. Finola had finished her finger-walk at Riley’s top button, then had fisted a hand in his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss.
Zaira guessed such a move would be entirely too bold. Nevertheless, she had to keep going. Too much was at stake if she acted shyly.
Sucking in a steadying breath, she reached out and laid her hand on Bellamy’s arm.
His gaze snapped there like he’d been stung by a hornet. “What are you doing, Zaira?” His voice was low and full of warning.
Warning of what? She shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. “I need to do some research for my writing. And I’d like your help.”
He stared at her hand for several long heartbeats before lifting his eyes to hers again. “What kind of research?”
She hadn’t really thought through her plan. What exactly did she want Bellamy to do? Hug her? Perhaps kiss her? That surely ought to be enough to help her understand romance, wouldn’t it? “I was thinking one hug and one kiss.”
“Holy mother.” He took a step back and shook his head, a strange panic filling his features.
She grabbed his arm. “Please, Bellamy. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”
He was still shaking his head, his eyes wide.
“Okay, no hug. Just a kiss.”
“I’m not kissing you.”
“It won’t mean anything. It’s not like I want to have a relationship with you. In fact, I don’t even like you.”
The panicked look seemed to ease from his features. “You don’t like me?”
“No.” Maybe she liked him a little. Or a lot. But she didn’twantto like him. And that was mostly the same thing, wasn’t it?
He studied her as though he was reading her thoughts, probably realizing her denial had been too adamant.
“Okay,” she said. “I admit I find you a smidgen attractive. But I don’t want to marry you or anything close to that.”
“So, you’ll help me with Deirdre if I help you with your research by kissing you?”
She bit her bottom lip. She wanted to tell him yes, that was the only way. But she wasn’t so desperate that she would deny him help if he really was opposed to kissing her. “Listen, Bellamy.”
He was staring at the bottom lip she’d just worried between her teeth. And the brown of his eyes was dark and melted and dangerous.
She couldn’t keep from releasing her hold on his arm. Something about him was so magnetic that she was liable to be drawn in and lose herself to him if she wasn’t careful.
“I’m listening,” he whispered, a small smile beginning to tug at the corners of his lips.
Did he think she was silly? Maybe she was, but she didn’t care. “It obviously has to be a good kiss and one full of feeling. But that’s all.”
He nodded slowly. “How long does it have to be?”
“I don’t know. How long are kisses supposed to last?” See, this was why she needed to do the research.
He shrugged, his smile turning sly. “It can last as long as you want.”
