Scott guessed what she was trying to do. A steel curtain dropped down over his face.
“You can’t force this, Natalie.”
“I know. And you don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to. But you can’t hide up in the room the whole time, either.”
She tossed him the duffel bag he’d brought that included his clothes. Not that Scott standing around in his boxer briefs was a bad thing. Normally. But looking at that big, muscular body was making her feel all warmand tingly again, and she didn’t want him distracting her. Which they both knew wouldn’t take much effort.
He caught the bag and quirked a brow. “Hiding? He offered to send up food, not me.”
“He was being polite. And so are we. So get dressed.”
LC Taylor wasn’t the only one who could issue orders around here.
“You know, you’re kind of sexy when you are bossy.”
He started coming toward her with an expression on his face that she knew too well—and usually resulted in her naked and on her back—but she held him back with her hand. Unfortunately it came up against bare chest, which made her stern-schoolmarm voice a little shaky. “Nice try. But you aren’t going to distract me with that right now.”
Later he could distract her all he wanted. But even thinking about later was kind of distracting, and she felt her body rev up with anticipation.
“I’m not?” he said, gazing down at her with a heated look that would have melted her socks off if she’d been wearing any. “You sure about that?”
Knowing he was right made her just annoyed enough to purse her lips together with determination and push him back. “Get dressed, Commander.”
It wasn’t until she’d marched into her room that she realized her mistake. She had no idea what to wear. Did rich people dress for dinner?
A quick riffling through the clothes she’d brought told her that if they did, she was out of luck. Not one fancy cocktail dress had magically appeared among the mostly shorts and jeans that she’d grabbed in the two minutes Scott had given her to pack.
The best she could do was black linen capris that were rolled at the leg and a long-sleeve white linen blouse that she wore over a white cotton tank top. As the choice was tennis shoes or black flip-flops, she went with the flip-flops.
Maybe this was a bad idea.
She was thinking about changing her mind and taking Scott up on his distracting tactics when he came into her room. “You almost ready? It’s just about six.” He came to a sudden halt when she turned around. “Wow! You look incredible.”
Relieved as much by his reaction as by the fact that he was wearing a polo and shorts, she shook her head. “I still have to put on my makeup. You go ahead, and I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
He gave her a sharp frown, as if suspecting she was trying to manipulate him into something—which she wasn’t. Really.
“You look gorgeous the way you are. I don’t know why you women wear that crap.”
“Because we women like it. And believe it or not, Scott, not everything we do is to make ourselves more attractive to men.”
He grinned. “It’s not? Then who are you trying to impress?”
She thought about it a minute. “Other women.”
He laughed. “All right, but don’t take too long.”
There might have been a little bit of a plea in there.
This time she was the one to lift a brow speculatively. “Don’t tell me the big bad SEAL is scared?”
He didn’t miss a beat. “Out of my mind,” he said as he left the room.
That he admitted it so readily made her heart go out to him. She wished there was some way to make this easier on him. But other than be there for him, this was something he had to work out on his own.
Natalie knew it was going to be awkward, but when she was shown into the dining room by the ever-ready Dalton, who’d been waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, the silence was cringeworthy. Scott, holding acut-crystal lowball glass that appeared to have been drained, was standing by a huge window overlooking the side garden, and the senator, clearly struggling with what to say, was seated in a chair next to the unlit fireplace.
Small talk had obviously been exhausted.
