Page 17 of A Dangerous Kind of Love

“Health code.” I shrug. “Apparently bartenders are supposed to keep their hair out of the drinks.”

He steps a little closer onto the porch, close enough now that I can smell whatever cologne he’s wearing that makes my brain stop working correctly. Then he reaches out. His fingers catch one of my curls gently. The touch is light, but the moment his hand brushes my hair, heat floods straight up my neck.

“These,” he says quietly, letting the curl slip through his fingers, “are gorgeous.”

For half a second, my brain completely melts. Unfortunately for him, my mouth still works.

“Well, most guys at least pretend to ask before they pet my hair.”

That smirk comes back immediately.

“Would you have said yes?”

I open my mouth to answer and then close it again.

“See?” he says.

“Don’t get cocky because you followed instructions.”

His eyebrows lift. “Instructions?”

“You’re wearing jeans and a t-shirt.” I gesture to him. “I’m impressed. You listened.”

He glances down at himself again before looking back at me. “You asked.”

“Yeah, well,” I say, stepping out onto the porch and pulling the door closed behind me, “if you’d shown up in another suit, I probably would’ve shut the door in your face.”

He laughs under his breath as we walk down the steps together. When we reach the driveway, I stop short. Parked in my driveway is a sleek black sports car. I turn my head toward him.

“That’s what you drive.”

“What?” he says, completely unfazed.

I stare at it.

“It’s just a car.”

“That is not ‘just a car.’”

He walks ahead of me anyway, pulling the passenger door open. I hesitate for half a second, then slide into the seat.

When he settles into the driver’s seat, he’s still smiling.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, turning in my seat. “No, wait, let me guess.”

I tap my chin.

“Abandoned warehouse? A remote cabin in the woods?”

Michael shakes his head with a grin on his face, and I have to hide the fact that I’m trying not to laugh now.

“No? Oh, I know!” I sit up straight. “A creepy basement with torture devices.”

He laughs.

“Yeah. That’s the one,” I say, falling back against the seat, finally smiling.

“So, this is your whole personality, huh?” he says, not looking away from the road.