Page 87 of Just Trouble

“Of course not.” I bend down so our eyes are level. “But I like you so I look more. It’s not just about appearances. It’s about the whole package.”

“What do you mean?”

“That smile, for example.” I touch the corner of her mouth with a fingertip. “There’s a whole lot of innuendo in that smile. It’s not just that you have the most luscious mouth ever. It’s that expression, like you have a secret that’s not at all what I expect. So, when you smile like that–” I take a deep breath and exhale. “I want to kiss you. I want to ravish you, actually, and when you do it in public, you destroy me completely.”

She looks pleased by this so I’m on the right track. “You’re not without your own arsenal, you know.”

“Like what?”

“You don’t mind me admiring your assets?”

“I’d love to be your man-candy, Daph. Look away. Tell me what you like—and what needs work. I can’t imagine anything better than being the stuff of your fantasies.” Her eyes are dark, his gaze so intent that I wonder if she’s guessed that she owns my fantasies. Every single one.

I should tell her.

Maybe I already did, in a way. She did see the Daph playlist.

She runs a fingertip down my arm from elbow to wrist, watching its progress. “I like your forearms,” she admits.

This is not what I was expecting. “Goon.”

“No, really.” She flattens her hand and strokes across my skin, then her fingertip gets lost in the labyrinth of my tattoo. “Just the right amount of hair. Muscled. Tanned.”

“Glad to hear it,” I say, aware of the tumult she’s stirring within me. A third time is a definite possibility.

She threads her fingers between mine. “And these are hands that get things done.”

I smile at the approval in her tone. “Is that right? Tell me more.”

She tips her head back to consider me. “I like your eyelashes.”

I laugh at that, then stop as she reaches up and pushes her hand through my hair. It’s a proprietary gesture, a bit rough, and feels good.

“I like that your hair is a bit long, a bit unruly. And the colour of it.” Her fingertip slides down my neck to my shoulder, then down the middle of my chest, vanishing in my chest hair. She nods approval as she walks her fingers down my torso. “I like the six-pack.”

“Good thing I started working out again.”

She flattens her hand again, her palm spanning my hip, and there’s a definite sign of my enthusiasm. “But the vee,” she whispers. “The vee is very good stuff.” And she bends over me, touching her lips to my hip. Her hair falls over me, all silken softness, and I have to close my eyes to get control again.

When I open them, she’s watching me, sultry and seductive.

“I’m glad to hear you approve of the packaging,” I manage to say. “It bodes good results for the courtship.”

She parts her lips and I think she’s going to say something, maybe make a confession that I can echo, but she closes her eyes and sighs, and the moment passes.

Damn. What did I miss out on?

And why?

21

DAPHNE

Could there have been a worse moment to realize that I’m in love?

No and no.

It was that word, courtship, the way it makes me think of Jane Austen novels and wedding bells, of people pledging their undying love to each other. If Luke hadn’t said that word, I might not have realized how much I want him to stay, how being in the moment is great but falls short of what I want.

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