“Is that right?” He didn’t seem surprised, exactly, but it did seem to be news to him. “We’ll have to discuss that tomorrow.”
“You’ll have to change your plans tomorrow.”
He smiled at me, clearly enjoying the challenge. “You have so much fire in you. Have you ever let it out?” His thumb moved only an inch, but that small patch of skin sent a direct jolt into my core.
“I’m going to tomorrow.” I attempted to keep fighting.
“You are?” He sounded way too pleased with my threat.
“Not that kind of fire,” I murmured, feeling a flush in my cheeks, knowing he could sense the response I was having to him.
“No? Are you sure? I’ve heard from a reliable source that you have a thing for CEOs.”
“No, I do not.” My cheeks burned even brighter as I recalled all too clearly exactly what Hannah had told him. “I’ve never dated anyone even remotely like you.”
“That doesn’t mean you haven’t fantasized about it.” He reached a hand up to brush back my hair, taking it over and behind my shoulder, letting his fingers play through it, slowly. So gentle, but I could picture him wrapping it tight in his fist, tilting my head back so he could lean down and—
“You are so arrogant!” I burst out, trying desperately to stop the train of my thoughts.
“Only because I have reason to be.” He gave me a slow smile, his hand now up at the back of my head, a sensual stroke as he leaned down to my ear. “Because I know how to give you exactly what you want. You’d like me in control, dominant, with you helpless, panting, needing—”
“No,” I cleared my throat, supremely flustered. “No, I, actually…nope.”
Slowly he closed the small gap between us, leaned down and pressed his lips to my throat, ever so briefly, so gently, right where my pulse was leaping. The gesture was so simple yet so erotic, so charged and intimate even in the middle of the bar.
“Your pulse is fluttering like a hummingbird,” he whispered in my ear.
“That always happens when I play pool.” I was running out of excuses with this man. “Maybe we should play darts?”
Over at the dartboard, he wrapped his hands around my waist, guiding my stance. He cupped my hip as he stood behind me. Nope, darts didn’t help either. Nor did the couple more sips of beer I took. They went straight to my head, buzzing, leaving me feeling completely giddy and loopy.
“You’re good at darts, too!” I exclaimed. My laugh had a crazy, bright edge to it. What couldn’t he do? He certainly found that bullseye again and again. I had a feeling he’d be just as good at locating a central pleasure point on my body, which happened to be aching and throbbing at the moment, more and more with each casual caress.
“I told you, I have every reason to be arrogant.”
“But darts are so Average Joe. I picture you playing polo or something.”
“Is that how you picture me?”
Hot damn, how did he turn everything into a come-on? And why did every line hit me just right? Because, yes, I could picture him astride a magnificent steed, his strong thighs in tight riding pants as he…well, I didn’t exactly know what people did playing polo but he’d look awesome doing it. But I could also picture him wearing much less, maybe after the polo match, post shower with nothing but a small white towel wrapped low around his lean hips.
I gulped another big sip of my beer, then proceeded to cough. Which prompted him to rub my back, which made me even more agitated.
“I think maybe I’ll head out!” I declared, whirling around to find my jacket. I’d worn a jacket, hadn’t I? Not that I needed it. I felt so heated up I could take my shirt off. Then he’d have so much access.
“Can I give you a ride somewhere?” Still and calm, he watched my frenetic movements like a predator observing its prey. Sure, stealthy, confident in the ultimate outcome.
“No,” I rejected him sternly. “I don’t want anything to do with you. You are the enemy.”
“Is that right?”
“The protest this afternoon didn’t tip you off? Or how about when I mentioned that you’re trying to demolish my store? We don’t want your resort here!”
I whirled my arm around wildly, drawing some attention to us that I immediately regretted. I didn’t want any more talk than I was already sure there would be about how I was fraternizing with the enemy. Not that too many other townspeople saw him as that. Truth be told, a whole lot of people supported the idea of the resort. It would sure bring a hell of a lot of money to the town.
But I had standards. Principals. “Love the Lichen!” I declared, trying to lower my voice but not being too successful. “We are friends with the earth here in this town. I have a friend who lived in a Redwood tree!” Why the hell was I mentioning Marissa? Now I was really grasping at straws.
“Really?”
“Yes. For like two months.” It was true. I thought she was a complete nutjob.
“That’s a long time to live in a tree.”
“I know, right? Obviously she didn’t even shower once the whole time.” But, wait, I’d gotten distracted. “But that’s not the point.”
“You’ve made your point,” he assured me. “Here, I’ll walk you out. You didn’t have a jacket when you came in.”
He must have noticed my searching around. And he must have noticed me when I walked into the bar. That shouldn’t give me tingles, but this whole day was one big lesson in the fact that my body responded however it wanted, regardless of whether or not I wanted it that way. I was really going to have to work on the wiring between my brain and the rest of me.
Because it felt so good as he walked next to me through the bar, his large hand resting at the small of my back, radiating heat, protective, guiding me through the crowd. I’d been in that bar a million times, but I sure liked navigating it a lot more next to him. Hannah caught my eye and gave me the thumbs-up, approving of my choice to leave with him. I scowled at her, shook my head no and mouthed the words “I’m not leaving with him.” She smiled and mouthed right back at me, “Have a good time!”
She should know me better than that. I didn’t do casual hook ups. When Hannah dragged me to bars, I tucked myself into a booth where I could have actual conversations with people I already knew fairly well.
Which was reason, like, #47 why I shouldn’t be enjoying the attentions of Mr. Colton Kavanaugh. I didn’t even know him. For all I knew he had a wife and family back in New York.
“Are you married?” I asked him as we walked outside. Subtly was not my middle name.
He chuckled. “Why? Are you asking me out?”
“No!” I stumbled a little bit on the stairs and he caught me, steadying me with a strong hand around my waist. It
made me feel even more wobbly.
“Well, I’m happy to tell you that I’m single,” he assured me.
“Single?”
“You don’t believe me?” He walked me over toward his sleek, shiny black limousine. Then he leaned back against it, crossing his arms against his powerful chest, gazing down at me with that sexy smirk on his face.
“Nope.” I shook my head. How the hell could he be single? He had to have a conga line of women after him at all times.
“Because I’m such a catch?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, still with that knowing, sly smile.
“Um, yeah,” I agreed, fresh out of my ability to play coy.
“Thank you for the compliment. But just because there are women interested in me doesn’t mean that I’m interested in them.”
“Oh, so you’re gay?” I guess I had a little smartass left in me.
He burst out laughing. He looked good when he laughed, younger somehow. Plus he had a sexy throat when he tilted back his chin. When was the last time I’d admired a man’s throat? I had it bad.
“You’re sassy,” he smiled at me, appreciatively.
“Most people think I’m very sweet,” I countered, hands on my hips.
“That’s my favorite combination.” Uh oh, his smile now verged on smoldering. I should probably go while I still had the ability to walk away.
“I’m gonna—”
“First tell me one thing.” He reached out and caught my hand. His long, strong fingers wrapped around mine, his thumb brushing against my wrist. My pulse skittered at his touch. “Your friend said that you’re still hung up on a guy you were dating.”
“No! No, she’s got to get that out of her head. That’s not true.” I knew it came from a good place and Hannah was just worried about me, but really she had to stop it with all this insisting on helping me move on. I’d moved on even before my ex-boyfriend had.
“Good.” His thumb kept up its slow, tantalizing course, stroking the sensitive skin on my inner wrist. It made me shiver.