He laughs again. “You asked.”
“I did. I regret it deeply.”
“You’re lying,” he says.
“I’m being polite.”
“You’re enjoying this.” The annoying part is that he says it like he knows.
I grab another piece of candy from his bag and pop it into my mouth so I don’t answer too quickly. “Maybe I’m enjoying how confident you are about being embarrassed.”
He places a hand to his chest, mock-wounded. “That’s harsh.”
“You survived.”
“Barely.” His gaze slides over my face, warm with amusement. “Your turn.”
“I don’t use lines.”
“Bullshit.”
I smile sweetly. “See? That right there. Very attractive, deeply arrogant.”
“Everyone’s used one.”
“I haven’t.”
“What, you just walk up to people and let your personality do the work?”
“I’ve always preferred honesty.”
“That sounds risky.”
“It works better than rehearsed nonsense.”
He angles toward me a little. “So if you were flirting with someone, you’d just say what you were thinking?”
I should not be enjoying this as much as I am. I really, really shouldn’t. But there’s something about the way he asks it. Casual on the surface, not casual underneath. The butterflies are dancing in my stomach, and just being close to this man completely unravels me.
“Depends on the someone,” I admit.
His gaze holds mine. “Try me.”
A hot little shiver runs through me before I can stop it. This man is going to be the reason my entire internal system files a formal complaint. I lift one shoulder and pretend I’m not suddenly aware of every inch of space between us. “Fine. I’dprobably say he looks like the kind of man who’s been flirted with so often he thinks he can spot it before it happens.”
His grin starts to slowly widen. Dangerous. “Can I?”
“I’m still deciding.”
“That sounds promising.”
“It’s cautious,” I say.
“Not from where I’m sitting.”
I hold his stare. “That’s because you think everything’s going your way.”
“Not everything.”
