Whitney’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. She had set the table with bowls, spoons, and the pot of soup.
They both sat down at the same time. He watched Whitney scoop the soup into her bowl before she moved the pan toward him. A touch of sadness flickered in her eyes, and for a brief moment, his gut twisted. Was she just as upset to be stuck with him as he was with her? That would definitely explain why she’d been so irritable since they met.
As he ate his soup, he watched her carefully. Her gaze didn’t leave her bowl. Maybe it was an ego thing, but he wasn’t used to being with a woman without her looking at him with stars in her eyes. Not that he wanted Whitney to look at himthatway, but still... It was nice to be noticed.
As he took another spoonful, some of the soup spilled on his chest. It was hard to eat using his injured arm, but he definitely couldn’t eat using his left hand. Grumbling, he used the linen handkerchief she had placed on the table, to dab the spill from his chest. After taking a few more bites, the liquid spilled on his chest, again. Once more, he lifted the napkin to dry his skin.
“For the love of...” She huffed and pushed away from the table. The shirt he’d brought down was still draped over the edge of the counter. She yanked it off before throwing it at him. The garment smacked him right in the face.
“Would you put on your shirt?” she continued with a tight voice.
“What is wrong with you?” he snapped, jumping to his feet. “Did you really have tothrowit at me?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw it so hard.”
“Listen lady, we need to get some things out in the open if we’ll be spending so much time together.” He moved right in front of her, staring at her. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin, not cowering in the least. He liked that.
“Yes, we do.” Her gaze stays on his eyes this time. “And we’ll start with this.” She folded her arms. “You’ll remain fully clothed while in my company. Do you understand?”
This particular moment was not humorous, and yet, the situation made him grin. Or was it that he liked how rattled she’d become just because he was without a shirt?
“Really?” He took a step forward, which made her step back, but she bumped into the kitchen counter. He really should give her more room, but he loved to tease.
Leaning closer to her, he braced his arm against the counter. She was nearly blocked by the wall and his arm. Up this close, he detected a berry scent. He didn’t know if it was her shampoo or body wash. Her breathing escalated, but she kept her gaze locked with his.
“Yes, really,” she answered.
Her voice didn’t seem to be as forceful this time. It was obvious that his nearness was making her nervous. But strangely enough, his heartbeat quickened, too.
“And what if I don’t?” he asked, but in softer tones. “After all, until my wound heals, you’ll have to bandage my arm, which means I’ll have to remove my shirt.”
“That’s the only time your shirt comes off.”
He moved a little closer. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“No,” she answered too fast.
He ignored her and continued. “Why don’t you like seeing guys without their shirts?”
She took an uneven breath. “Who said I don’t like seeing guys without a shirt? It just so happens, that I’m quite comfortable seeing a half-naked guy. Butyouare the exception.”
He nodded. He definitely rattled her in some weird way. “Ah, I take that as a compliment.”
“Don’t.” She shook her head. “Because it’s not.”
They stared at each other for a few fast-breathing moments. Soon, he was tired of glaring at her, so he dropped his gaze to her mouth. Her lips parted, and her breathing accelerated. The urge to kiss her was overpowering, but he resisted. This couldn’t possibly be the right time forthat.
Slowly, Zack pulled away. Her body relaxed, and a rush of air escaped her mouth.
Grinning, he shrugged on the shirt. “I guess I’ll have to keep my shirt on so you don’t get excited by staring at my muscular biceps.”
She snorted a laugh and sat back at the table. “Oh, please, Greyson. Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I’m not.” He bent beside her, meeting her wide eyes again. Gently, he trailed his fingers over her cheek. “You were the one doing the flattering, sweetie. Not me. But I want to thank you for the entertainment.”
Grumbling, she knocked his hand away. “And that’s another thing, Greyson. I don’t want you touching me, either.”
He chuckled and sat back down. “If you say so,AgentLawson. But I’m sure the longer we are alone together, you’re going to want me to touch you. In fact, I’ll bet good money on it.”
