Normally that would have guaranteed some kind of naughty, suggestive response from him. But surprisingly, he let it go. She wasn’t sure whether she should ascribe any meaning to that, but for some reason it felt significant. As if maybe she wasn’t the only one feeling that what was between them wasn’t normal.
It was different.
•••
By the time they finished their late lunch, it was nearly time for an early dinner.
“Admit it,” John said as they were walking back toward the hotel along the canal. “You liked it.”
Looking down, he saw her nose wrinkle under the faded edge of her Bulldogs baseball cap. He probably should have told her to ditch the hat. It wasn’t that it practically shouted American—which it did, even if you didn’t know the Georgetown mascot; it was also sexy as hell.
Which he knew was ridiculous. There was nothing that should be sexy about a ponytail, ball cap, T-shirt, and jeans, but all he had to do was look at her and he was thinking about sex.
Fuck.
Exactly.
“I don’t know whether I liked it. After three margaritas anything is going to taste pretty good.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked up at him. “I’m onto your ploy—or should I sayply.”
He chuckled. She didn’t like to admit defeat. Which was a personality flaw he could get behind, as he was guilty of it himself. “I didn’t order you that third one—that’s on you. And I saw you chowing down those tacos well before the second foo-foo drink arrived.”
She shot him an angry glare. “Strawberry margaritas are not ‘foo-foo,’ and for someone who is reportedly so good with women, you would think you would know better than to use the term ‘chowing down’ when it comes to the way we eat. You make me sound like a frat boy at a chili-dog-eating contest.”
He shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”
She gasped with outrage and slugged him in the arm.Hard. He was laughing even as he grabbed his arm. “Ouch, that hurt.”
She batted her eyes, doing her best Southern belle—which was surprisingly good. “Why, a little ol’ girl like me hurt a big, strong man like you? What would all the other guys say?”
“They’d say you throw a mean punch,” he said dryly.
She laughed. “Don’t be such a baby, Johnny. You’re gonna lose your alpha card.”
He puffed up at that. “Glad to see you finally recognize your place in the natural order around here.”
She groaned, realizing she’d walked right into that one. “You’re incorrigible, and I’ve had too much tequila to match wits with you right now.”
“I’ll have to remember that the next time you’re irritating me.”
She looked up at him, her big blue eyes wide and guileless behind the sultry haze. “Do I irritate you?”
He sighed. “All the time.”
“Good. You irritate me, too, when I’m not thinking about—”
She stopped suddenly, her cheeks turning bright red.
Now, that wasn’t just sexy; it was really damned cute. It made him want to make her blush like that all over. Maybe when he stripped her naked and told her exactly what he thought of her body. Part by part. Starting with the chest he was trying not to look at.
It wasn’t his fault. It was the damned V-neck T-shirt, which had an opening that was practically right in his line of sight every time he looked down at her.
They were still walking along the canal, but it wasn’t the touristy part. When he took her arm and turned her toward him, he realized no one else was around. “What?” he demanded. “When you aren’t thinking about what?”
She tried to pull away with an embarrassed laugh. “Nothing. I’m drunk. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
Bullshit. She wasn’t that drunk. She had been about to say something revealing—that was the problem. And he wanted to hear it. He shouldn’t, but damn it, he did.
“Tell me,” he said. It came out as more of an order, which she would typically ignore or countermand. But buzzed, she didn’t seem as indifferent as she usually did to him. He was beginning to think she might not have outgrown him as much as he thought. That maybe she was just as affected as before but had just grown better at hiding it.
