Deep down, he knew Molly wasn’t a knock-off toaster tart. Molly was tiramisu or cannoli or cherry strudel. Yes, definitely cherry strudel. The kind of thing a man shouldn’t crave at all times of the day—it just wasn’t healthy. And yet?
Cherry strudel.
Which meant he needed to stay the hell away from her.
Because he was serious about the relationship diet thing.
Molly cleared her throat and shifted again. She’d tucked
her legs up underneath herself as she situated herself for the show. The position did not look comfortable but, then again, his legs were too tall to even consider anything like that. What did he know?
“Are you okay?” Gavin whispered, moving his body just a hair toward her. He offered her a Milk Dud.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” she whispered back, holding out her hand so he could pour some into her palm.
“Because you keep making noises in your throat and looking at me.” He trained his eyes straight ahead as he spoke.
“I don’t want to like you,” she whispered so only he could hear.
This declaration was not a surprise to him. He lived in a business world where many people didn’t want to like him. Most of them succeeded. That was absolutely fine.
“Okay,” he said, conceding that he wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea.
“Okay?” She sounded appalled.
He turned so he could see her. “It’s fine. You don’t have to like me.”
She scowled—adorable little lines forming between her eyebrows. “You’re making it hard.”
“How so?” He shouldn’t have—he really shouldn’t have—but he leaned closer to her, letting the floral scent of all things Molly invade his senses.
“You bought me candy.” She held up the offending box of chocolate-coated raisins. “And you shared yours.”
“You just said before the movie started you wanted me to be nice.” He lifted his hands in surrender. “Now you want me to be a dick?”
She nodded, again the curls bobbing and begging to be touched. “Yeah, it’d make things easier.”
“Molly?” He said her name with a sigh. “What?”
“I’m trying to be a good example for my kids.” This was true. He wanted them to grow up to be upstanding men who treated others well—since they were going to be the ones selecting his retirement home someday.
She huffed, did the throat noise thing again, and held out her hand for more Duds.
He shared, but swore to all hell, if he lived to be a hundred he would never understand women and the way their brains got from one point to another.
He leaned into her space, ignoring the pull of her so he wouldn’t be tempted to stick around too long where he shouldn’t. “I’m not going to be an asshole just so you feel better about your opinion of me.”
“It’s like you’re totally unwilling to try.” She nibbled at the coating of the candy in that way he’d discovered she liked to do. But this time her heart obviously wasn’t in it. She gave up and threw the whole thing into her mouth, eating it like a normal person, then she crossed her arms.
This, unfortunately, lifted her breasts up, up, up higher toward his line of sight.
Nice guys did not look down. He was trying very hard to be a nice guy, so he refrained. “Molly?”
Damn, his voice sounded scratchy. Not smooth at all. “Hmmm?” The sound came from deep in her throat.
The intense desire to reach for her in the dark, to touch her, to lift the armrest, and to fall into the space between them became a craving.
But…he didn’t have to move further into her space, because she leaned into him.
