Page 21 of Fence

“You? I don’t think you could be awkward if you tried.”

“You’re wrong about that,” he replied with a wry grin.

God, he even made self-deprecation sexy. If I’d still been wearing my glasses, I would’ve pushed them up the bridge of my nose and ducked my head to hide my blush. Sometimes I still made that gesture, even though glasses were a part of my past.

When I spoke again, I sounded more like myself. “As I said, I could give you the Cliff’s Notes version, if that would be easier.”

“I don’t know that I want the quick-and-dirty version,” he replied, sounding thoughtful.

I gulped. Even his word choice was sexy—and I knew he didn’t mean it to be. I made a mental note to take a cold shower when I got home.

I offered a wan smile, spreading my hands out over the table like a game show hostess. “You’ve seen the alternative.”

“It doesn’t intimidate me.” He held my gaze. “I can think of much less enjoyable ways to spend my time.”

I didn’t know what I wished more: that he would stop flirting, because he was driving me crazy, or that I could sweep everything off the table and pull him on top of me.

I managed to speak over the rush of blood in my ears. “Why is this so important to you? I’ve told you why it’s important to me. And don’t try to charm your way out of it, either. I know when you’re being evasive.”

“Oh? You know me as well as that, eh?” He chuckled.

But underneath that chuckle, he was sizing me up. I could feel it. I threw back my shoulders and met his gaze.

Whatever he saw must’ve pleased him, since his expression softened. “I’d love to tell you all about it over dinner tonight. What do you say?”

What did I say? What could I say?

---