“For a guy,” she says with a huff.
“Ah,that.” I lift my glass of water and take a sip. She watches me with avid eyes, and the flicker of heat in her irises does not go unnoticed.
Or unwanted.
“My little sister taught me,” I say. I don’t tell her that I find it calming, that I need to keep my hands busy, that if I don’t, my mind veers in frustrating directions.
“What else can you make?”
I gaze at her face, then down her neck to the collarbone where her hoodie has slipped, exposing some of her right shoulder and skin that looks soft, tender, and thoroughly kissable. A sparrow peeks out from the fabric, spreading its wings.
I meet her eyes. A charge zaps between us. “Something pretty,” I say, without looking away from her.
Her smile is just south of shy, and I want to kiss it off. Instead, I open my tablet case and take out a crisp sheet of white paper. I fold it in half on the diagonal, then unfold it at the crease. Quickly but methodically, I flip the paper over, up, down, until a minute later, I present her with a bird.
She takes it, clutches it gently. “I love it. And I needed this tonight.” It’s said like a confession, and I don’t think she’s talking about the paper bird. “I just got some wild news.”
I straighten my spine, dropping the flirty tone like that. “Everything okay?” Translation: Who do I need to hurt?
“Yes. It’s all good. I didn’t mean to alarm you. It’s a huge project. So it’s good, but overwhelming, likehow can I possibly get everything done in that amount of timeoverwhelming. It’s a lot of pressure, even though it’s good pressure.”
“I hear you. But I bet you’ll get it done early.”
She laughs. “You have a lot of faith in me.”
“You’re tough. You’re strong. You know how to get things done.”
“You can tell all that in one hour of meeting me?”
No doubt about it. “I sure can. You’re the kind of person who doesn’t back down from a challenge.”
Her smile magnifies. “And are you the same?”
“I am. So I get what you’re saying, because I know that feeling too. Thathow the hell will I get this donefeeling, but then you do it. I’m waiting to find out if my firm just got a new gig.”
She pauses, seeming to absorb that little nugget. “Sounds likeyou have a lot of tension,” she muses, her eyes sparking with possibilities of the after-dark variety.
And I like it. A lot. “Sounds like we both do,” I say, as she takes her time and sets a hand on my leg, and damn, that feels good. It also feels like a new direction for the night. “What are we going to do with all this tension then?”
She glances toward the lobby, then the hallway beyond, and maybe, just maybe, to the elevators and where they lead.A hotel room.
The way things started with us tonight, I don’t want to push her. But I do want to kick open the door. “Ripley,” I say, my husky tone making my meaning clear—say the word, and we’re out of here.
“Banks…” She draws a deep breath, holds it, thenfuck itflashes in her eyes. “Should we take this to my room?”
A bolt of lust slams into me. “Yes.” But just because it’s a good idea to check, I add, “If you’re sure you want that?”
Her teeth slide over her bottom lip, then she whispers, “Well, it is our third date, after all.”
I take that opportunity and run with it. “We’ve probably had our first kiss already.”
She smiles, seductive and inviting. “Did we? I can’t recall.”
I lift a hand and slide my fingers through her hair, savoring the way she trembles as I touch her. “Sweetheart, when I kiss you, you will definitely recall it.”
She lifts her chin. “Why don’t you refresh my memory?”
3
