Page 12 of Tight Spaces

"I’ve got five good reasons."

"Care to share them."

"Not really."

She looked at her drink, then back to him, trying to understand his reticence, but respecting it. It might be time to go to Plan B, getting herself tipsy enough she wouldn’t care if he was slightly lubricated or not.

Then without warning, Max took the glass and slammed it back like a shot. He held his breath for a second and then let it out slowly. "Those Ukrainian moonshiners know their stuff."

She giggled. Which she never did, and she hadn’t even had a drink yet, but she followed his example, swallowing against the burn of the strong distilled alcohol. "Papa says his grandfather made some of the best potato vodka in the world. Good for your liver."

Max gave that ultra sexy laugh again. "Right. Does your father distill his own?"

"I’ll never tell."

"You can tell me, I’ll keep your secrets." He gave her a serious look, like he was making a promise.

But she wasn’t going to read anything into the words. She was done wearing those fantasy inspired rose-colored glasses.

She took his glass and turned back to the cabinet. "Like another?"

"I think one is enough. For both of us."

"You do what you like, but I’m having another. If you don’t mind being out drunk by five-feet-six-inches of academia, that’s on you."

She poured again, this time two fingers of the clear liquid into her glass and then slammed it back.

Max made a sound that was suspiciously close to a growl and then he grabbed the bottle and poured his own double shot.

He grinned wildly at her. "Here’s to Ukrainian brainiacs and Marine grunts."

She didn’t call him on the fact that he admitted to being a Marine and her brother was supposedly Army and yet they worked together. She simply nodded and gave him her own crazy smile, the alcohol already hitting her.

He shook his head after. "If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk to have your way with me."

Smart man. "Is it working?"

"Doesn’t matter."

"You don’t think?"

"No matter how much I want you, or how drunk you get me, I’ve got enough control to stop myself screwing my friend’s baby sister."

She didn’t lie and say Roman wouldn’t care. They both knew he would. He wanted her settled down with another brainiac, off in a lab somewhere where she wouldn’t worry her family, hence the blind dates from hell.

He didn’t want her to get more embroiled in his life, through his associates, or any other way. "Don’t worry…I won’t share your secrets," she said, repeating Max’s words.

He shook his head. "Not going to happen."

"That’s what I said. You don’t have to worry about me telling tales." She wasn’t a blabbermouth.

"We’re not having sex." Well, that was blunt.

But she could be blunt too. "You want me."

"Yes." That single word held a wealth of meaning.

He really wanted her, like seriously, really. Of course, the growing, and quite impressive, bulge in his jeans said so even more than his affirmative.