Page 21 of Crocodile Tears
“That’s a story for another time,” I said, folding my arms tightly.
“No Madigan talk, got it, sorry.” Deacon took another sip of his juice and set it down on the table by the window. “I didn’t mean to compare you to them. We just need something filmable for the announcement.”
“Fine,” I muttered. “I’ll have a think about it. Eddie might be good for that.”
“Eddie?”
“The toucan,” I said. “He’s currently at the vet hospital, and you could release him back into his enclosure tomorrow. Geta slo-mo of him flying off from your hands and all that. Very inspirational.”
Deacon’s cheeks dimpled. “Great, I’m free tomorrow at 11 if that works for you?”
“It does.” I took a step back. “I’ll see you then.” I took another step without looking, my foot colliding with the corner of the treadmill, and Deacon shot forward, grabbing my elbow to steady me.
“Whoa there,” he said with a laugh, his face a hair’s breadth from my own.
I wrenched my elbow away like it was on fire. I absolutely could not have him touching me right now. Despite my feelings toward him, I was only human, and seeing his obliques made me want to run my fingers over them like playing a guiro.
“Tomorrow,” I said, unable to meet his gaze. I turned just as Divya walked back in carrying a purple-and-green concoction. I accepted it with thanks and took a sip, the flavors exploding on my tongue. I tried to contain an indecent groan. “Damn you.”
Deacon laughed. “Delicious, right?”
I refused to acknowledge his smugness. “Tomorrow at 11,” I said again. “Be on time for once.” I eyed him up and down one last time, unable to contain myself. “And wear a shirt.”
Chapter Twelve
Dove
When I turned the corner holding Eddie's carrier, I stopped short when I saw Deacon leaning against the fence post, looking away from me as his publicist nattered in his ear.
Curse him. Couldn't he just look ugly sometime? Why must he constantly look ready for the cover ofVogue? There was nothing this man could wear, nothing he could do, no silly faces that he could pull that would make him look less swoon-worthy.
“Stupid genetics,” I muttered to myself as I started walking toward him, hoping I might be able to skirt past without him taking notice.Yep, nothing to see here, just a purple-haired zookeeper carrying a toucan in a crate.
I walked faster, and Deacon breezily turned my way and gave me a little wave. The memory of him grabbing my elbow in the gym flashed through my mind. The way his eyes had scanned myface, how, for a split second, he’d been close enough that I could just lift on tiptoes and kiss him . . .
I refuse to notice those freaking cheekbones, and lips, and jawline, and broody bedroom eyes. What the hell is wrong with me? I never care about hot men!
Hackles raised, I lifted Eddie's carrier higher and approached. “Let's get this over with then.”
Deacon looked me over, his mild expression darkening as he noted the way I scowled at him. If he thought one amicable lunch and flustered gym encounter would make me tolerate all his nonsense, he had another thing coming. I couldn’t believe I was agreeing to do a fluff piece about one of our animals to help repairhisimage. And poor Eddie the toucan was caught in the crossfire.
Think of the skinks, Dove. Think of the breeding program.
Deacon jogged ahead of Cody to keep up with me. “I see the little storm cloud is back over your head,” he said playfully, swatting the air above me.
“Don’t touch me,” I snapped.
He swirled his fingers over my head again. “I wasn’t touching you.”
“Don’t touch the air around me.”
“You don’t want me to touch theair?”
“Ugh,” I groaned. “You are worse than all of my siblings combined.”
“So you’re saying I feel like family now?” Deacon waggled his eyebrows.
I tried to walk faster, but it was no use. The man was 6’3” with legs sculpted by the same personal trainer that worked with Hugh Jackman for goodness’ sake. His superhero-worthy calves could run circles around me.
