“It’s alright. Just a nightmare.”
Rand frowns. Then, flexes. And my eyeballs are rewarded with a full-frontal glance at his abs and chest. It’s the glimpse I missed after last night’s - incident.
In the past, when my sisters asked me what I wanted in a man, I would answer, great job, brains, and a sense of humor. I never factored in the physical thing, except to date men who were my height or shorter. I figured if they got out of line, I could probably take them down.
But I never met anyone who short-circuited my brain functions quite like Rand does. One look at his abs -all 20-million of them- made me suddenly understand why romance novel covers with oiled-up chests and abs were so popular. If I had a bodice, I’d rip it right off.
I lean closer to the abs in question to count how many there were and wonder if licking them would be a turn-on for Rand.
“Oh, it definitely would,” Rand chuckles. “Be a turn-on. Since you were wondering, out loud.”
I jerk to attention and realize I’d bent over, staring directly into his mesmerizing abs. I turn red. He laughs harder. I try to look anywhere but at his abs and fail spectacularly. Rand nearly drops his spatula.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I didn’t mean to treat you like a side of beef.”
“I’m not sorry,” Rand winks at me. “When you look at me like a side of beef, I get all tingly in my man parts.”
I close my eyes and pray for a sinkhole to swallow me whole.
Rand pushes me into a dining chair. “You can be mortified while you sit and drink your coffee. Breakfast will be ready before you can say space-time continuum.”
He returns to the stove, and I swear the man is bouncing as he walks. Which then makes me notice his magnificent ass.
What has come over me this morning? I have a lady boner for all things Rand Kestrel. I sip my boiling hot coffee, hoping the burn on my tongue helps me think about anything else but biting Rand’s ass.
I clear my throat. “Why are you cooking breakfast? And where did you get supplies?”
Rand’s sly grin lights up my lady garden. “When you rent out the penthouse, people are more than willing to run to the store for you, no matter how strange the request.”
I roll my eyes. “I doubt it’s just the penthouse thing.”
“What else could it be?”
“Uh, your damn charm, for one.”
Rand smirks at me. “You think I’m charming?”
“There’s nothinkabout it. You’re charming. I bet you melted a lot of panties in high school.”
Rand frowns and turns back to his bacon. “Not exactly.”
Iciness rolls out of the kitchen.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”
He shrugs. “No biggie. I was a 12-year-old high school freshman. Graduated at fourteen. And I was what they called a ‘late bloomer.’ So, no panty-melting in high school.”
“Ah.”
“Do you want to talk about last night?” Rand walks on the proverbial eggshells.
I sigh. “Not really.”
Rand turns off the stove. Plates clatter as he serves up eggs, bacon, warm blueberry muffins, and three types of juice. “Then, let’s eat.”
We chew in silence until Rand pulls the scavenger hunt envelope out of his pants. Where he was hiding that thing, I’ll never know. But then again, maybe it would be fun to find out.
“Let’s find out about our first clue,” Rand rips open the envelope and reads. “‘If you know the world’s first airline pilot flew from here, you’ll be just fine. The only thing you need to do is make it by nine.’”
