“Because all the ladies like it?” I don’t know why that came out so bitchy.Am I jealous or something?
“Haven’t you heard that a gentleman never kisses and tells?” He pulls out my chair, waiting until I’m seated before positioning another to face me. “What’s the plan?” He brushes his palm against his broad thigh as though to flatten any creases.
Damn. Those are some thick thighs.
Big deal,I school myself.He also has big hands. And big feet. Are you gonna get all twisted up about those too? I bet he has big everything.
“Ryan?”
“The plan?” My voice is crazy high, and my cheeks suddenly feel radioactive. I clear my throat and regulate my tone. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought much beyond getting here.” Because I’ve been sofocused on thegetting hereand so worried something would go wrong. And it did. But also so right. “Maybe we just go with the flow?”
“I can do that.” His doting boyfriend’s gaze is for no one but me.
Lucky me. I wonder how many women he’s bankrupted with his boyfriend experience.
“We can dance,” he purrs, reaching out to trail the backs of his fingers along my jaw.
“We could.”
“Maybe enjoy a couple of drinks.”
“We could do that too.” A couple of drinks is usually my limit, thanks to the chaos I was raised in. But my mother’s vices are not my own, so I guess I can make an exception for today.Come to think of it, I probably already have.“We don’t have to stay long.”
“Because everyone can tell we’re at the fucking-like-bunnies stage of our relationship.”
The way he looks at me, I can almost believe that myself. I give a tiny lift of my shoulder as though completely unaffected. As though the way his mouth moves when he speaks doesn’t do things to me. “You are quite something.”
“You don’t know the half of it, darlin’,” he says, laying on his accent thick.
Why the heck didn’t I think to make my imaginary boyfriend Irish? The two seem to go together like figs and honey. I roll my lips to wet them a little, and Matt’s gaze drops there. His throat moves with a swallow, and I realize how close we suddenly are, both of us straining close like flowers seeking the sun.
“Can I get you anything?” A server appears to the side. Thank God.Because I think I was about to climb into his lap.“To drink?” White shirt, an apron, and a long blond ponytail that she swishes over her shoulder, none of which Matt seems to see as he barely glances her way, politely reciting his drink order.
“Whiskey. Please. A single malt if you have it.” His eyes on me feel bold and kind of possessive.
“Champagne?” My request sounds like a question, my mind buzzing with the things I want but can’t have.
“Absolutely.” She makes a note on a little pad and moves to the other side of the table to gather some of the abandoned glassware.
“Should I be glad not knowing the half of it?” I ask, unable to keep myself from going there. Returning to the conversation from the careful distance of my chair.
“Worried you might miss out?”
“Well, I’m not gonna scribble your name in a bathroom stall or anything.”
“‘For a good-time call’?” His mouth curls in a reluctant-looking grin.
I bet a good time would be had by all.
“Forget I asked.” Because this is dangerous territory. It feels entirely too flirty.
“If you don’t want to find out, what should we do instead?” So much suggestion in that.
“Whatever that is on your face,” I retort, “let’snotdo that.”
“Spoilsport. All right.” He leans in suddenly. “Tell me something.”
“Like what?”
