Page 35 of Blitzing Emily

He shut the refrigerator door, and turned to face her. A teasing smile spread over his lips. “You don’t know how to cook.”

“Well, I can make things in the microwave, and I ...” Her voice trailed off. She was facing a full-on, naughty grin. The dimple in his left cheek flashed. She resisted the impulse to trace it with her fingertip. What was wrong with her, anyway? This wasn’t real. She needed to get a grip on herself and her runaway hormones.

He reached out for her. His voice in her ear was low and seductive.

“I’m a very good cook, and I give lessons. They cost hardly anything.”

She tried to break away, but he didn’t let go of her. She was torn between nervousness and attraction. Confusion played a role, too. She couldn’t imagine what he thought he was doing.

She moved away, and he followed, one inch at a time.

“We have all these menus here.” Emily dug around in the pile. “Look. Thai food, British pub food, Mexican, a bistro, pizza, sub sandwiches, there’s all kinds. What are you in the mood for?”

She was talking a mile a minute, and he took her chin in his fingertips. Her knees were knocking. She was a little dizzy. She couldn’t decide if it was from the concussion or the fact that Brandon had now slipped his hand into her hair, and was slowly drawing her closer. He was touching her again. Wait a minute. This was supposed to bepretend.

“A kiss for a lesson,” he coaxed.

“I don’t know what you want to eat,” she protested, but her voice trailed off again. Her eyes were drawn to his lips, to the dimple denting his left cheek, to his half-lidded eyes. His arm slid around her. She took a quick breath.

“Imagine how many lessons you’ll need if you’ve never cooked before, sugar.” His lips brushed Emily’s forehead. His low voice sent a shiver up her spine. “That might be a lot of kisses. I know I said I’d teach you, but are you up to all that kissing?”

Her knees were doing this odd, melting thing. Her fingertips slid over the warmth of his skin, the silken blond hair on his forearms (and some truly impressive biceps). He pulled her even closer. “I think I’ll enjoy it,” he assured Emily.

“But we’re not supposed to be kissing,” she said in a small voice.

“Says who?”

She looked up at him. It seemed urgent that she tell him. “My knees aren’t working.”

“Oh, they’re not? That’s terrible. Better hold onto me, then.”

He got closer. His mouth was moving toward hers, and her eyelids drifted closed. She’d been here before, but not with him. His arms tightened around her; he was a whisper from her mouth; she licked her lips ...

Emily’s eyes snapped open. What was she doing? She pushed against his chest, shoving herself away. No.No.She was not getting in a clinch with this man, even if she wanted to. Even if he was handsome, sexy, and smelled really great. Even if she was dying to kiss him.

Brandon looked a bit startled. “What the hell was that?”

“Self-preservation.” One hand shot toward him, traffic cop-style. “Keep your lips to yourself, football boy.”

“Really?” He leaned against the kitchen counter, bracing one hand on it: One big, strong, warm, capable-looking hand. His charm was still set on ‘stun’, too. “Is it me you object to, the kissing, or both?”

There was a Mexican standoff of sorts in Emily’s kitchen. She still held one hand out. He looked like it was all he could do to control his laughter. Her arm dropped to her side. “Let’s just get some dinner, and we’ll talk about it later.”

“Promises, promises,” Brandon said, but she was shuffling through the menus again. “It’s been a long day for you, so we’ll stay in tonight. I’ll give you a cooking demonstration. Plus, we need to start dating. Maybe we should discuss that.”

“You will? We do?”

Emily was attempting to pretend five minutes ago hadn’t happened. She was still dazed. Plus, she needed to assert herself a little here. He did not get to make all the decisions. It was time he found out who was in charge here:Her.She’d functioned just fine until the day before yesterday, when Hurricane Brandon blew into her life.

“Of course we do. We’re engaged. We have to date.” He leaned over to sniff her hair. “You smell wonderful.”

Abruptly, reason returned. “Oh, I must have misunderstood. Cameras must be rolling. Where’sNFL Today? Save it for the fans, big guy.”

She didn’t miss the look of surprise.

“We made a deal. If we stick with the deal, it’ll work well for both of us. Let’s not screw it up.”

She glared at him.

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