He lets loose an embellished roar. “You know that’s what they called me several years ago? King of the Jungle? It was my nickname.”
I crack up. “No! Really?”
“Swear on the Lombardi trophy. I had long hair. Kind of more golden blond, less brown than now,” he says, explaining, and this I can’t resist. I turn the call to speaker and search Google as he talks for said photos. “A sports reporter called me a beautiful lion at a charity auction.”
My search results reveal the animalistic hottie from several years ago—Harlan sporting a tailored suit on stage, strutting his stuff. Gorgeous long locks fall on his shoulders. They’re a little lighter too. Mmm, I remember how that hair felt between my fingers. “Found the shots. And look at you. Rawr indeed,” I say, with an appreciative groan.
“You like the King of the Jungle look, Katie?”
I give a pregnant pause, just to goad him. “It’s definitely . . . fluffy. A little Fabio.”
He groans. “Woman, you are the worst complimenter ever.”
“Maybe I like Fabio.”
I can practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Ha. Said no woman ever.”
“Said lots of women! But I would think three orgasms would be a better compliment,” I say with a defiant lift of my chin, though he can’t see me.
“Don’t shortchange me. I gave you four. Do not retroactively remove one of the orgasms I delivered.”
I slip back in time to the night over the summer, sensual memories flashing hot before my eyes, sending tingles shivering down my body. “Truth be told you’ve given me more than that. Let’s not forget the bathroom at the wedding seven years ago. So it’s five. Five that keep me company late at night,” I say, and maybe it comes out as a purr. Maybe because I feel all kinds of frisky for him. He’s been the star of my late-night fantasies for the last few months.
“You’ve been thinking of me?”
“A lot.”
He lets out a sexy murmur. “Excellent. I’ve been thinking of you too. Also a lot.”
I’m giddy with delight. Just giddy. My libido wants to throw off all my clothes and ask him to talk dirty to me right now. But there’s a voice in the front of my head telling me to slow down, to get to know him anew. To take my time since I refuse to be a fool again.
“And I’ll probably jump you when I see you, so maybe we can chat more now,” I suggest. See? I can be adult sometimes.
“Let’s do it. But I want to see you, Katie. Let’s switch to FaceTime.”
We do, and he calls back on video. When his handsome profile appears on my screen, my stomach flips. Those cheekbones, those pillowy lips, those soulful eyes.
He just makes me . . . melt.
He’s all the unfair advantages in the world.
The man settles into his living room couch, surrounded by pillows. “So, your dad lives in town?”
I nod, relaxing into my pillows too, feeling cozy and comfy as we chat. “He remarried when I went to college and his new wife is great. They run a handful of swim and tennis clubs together. He was a competitive swimmer in college and decided to open some clubs, teaching kids, adults, and seniors. I’ve been swimming again there lately. It’s been good for me.”
His eyebrows lift. “Yeah? In what way?”
This feels a little like opening up. But that’s part of dating, right? Taking your time, letting someone in. Baby steps. “It cleared my head. Helped me let go. Swimming always did when I was younger, and it does again now. Along with yoga.”
“Was that what got you through their split?”
Damn, this man can read me like a book. “Definitely. I needed an outlet then too, because things were always complicated with my mom growing up.”
“How so?”
That’s a good question. And unfortunately, one that’s far too easy to answer. “She was very focused on looks. She works in advertising for beauty magazines and there’s nothing wrong with that, but I think it became her sole focus. Almost like she wanted to preserve her youth at all costs. She kept finding younger and younger men. Like her newest fling,” I say, my voice tight, as I imagine it might always be when I mention him. “He’s the youngest of all. Twenty-two years younger than she is.”
“Whoa,” he says, his eyes popping.
There’s not much more to say than that, though. “So, yeah, I needed yoga. I needed swimming. I needed something not to lose my mind,” I say, pushing out a needed laugh. That’s something I’ve learned in the last few months—the power of laughter to get you through the hard stuff. I learned, too, how important it is to keep focusing on others, so I shift to him. “But what about you? Are you close with your mom or dad?”