could tell, he had made no effort at all.
He lifted his head just far enough to break the kiss, though he didn't drop his arms. “Why aren't you on your way to Springfield?”
Her hands still clasped behind his neck, she allowed her fingertips to play with the back of his hair. It was lushly thick and surprisingly soft and she would have liked to dive into it with both hands-but that could wait. “I will be. Eventually. But I'm not quite ready to go yet.”
“If you're staying because of me…”
“Well, I'm not staying to spend more time with your dog-no offense, Hulk.”
The dog snuffled a lazy acknowledgment, making her smile before she turned her attention back to Banner.
He was frowning at her, though she noted that he still held her quite closely. “You should think about what I said-about how the last few hours haven't exactly been normal circumstances.”
“Yes, I know. You're worried that I've been so dazzled by your suave charms that I've succumbed to a fleeting infatuation.”
He had the grace to color a bit in response to her wry comments about his awkward insinuations. “Okay, I'm aware that I'm not exactly the social type, but I did make more of an effort than usual these past couple of days.”
“Why?”
Her simple question seemed to confuse him. “Why? I don't know. Because it's Christmas, I guess. The kids… and Miss Annie…it just seemed like the thing to do.”
“You were extremely kind to the children and Miss Annie. And to the rest of us, for that matter. Sharing your home and your hospitality, giving up your bed and letting us decorate your living room…you turned a terribly timed ice storm into a pleasant holiday interlude.”
Frowning fiercely, he shook his head, finally letting his arms drop from around her. He took a step backward, moving away from her touch as he spoke flatly. “That's exactly what I mean. I didn't really do anything except open the door. You were the one who came up with the ideas to entertain the kids and keep everyone else busy and content. I'm not a particularly kind person. In fact, I've been accused of being rude and boring and antisocial.”
Now she was the one who frowned, hearing undertones of old pain in his voice. “Who would say such things about you?”
“My family,” he said with a grim shrug. “And my ex-wife had a few extra adjectives to apply to me, but none I'm comfortable repeating in mixed company.”
Ex-wife. That revelation made her blink a couple of times, but it was the mention of his family that twisted her heart. He tried so hard to pretend it was his own choice to distance himself from his parents and half siblings, but she suspected the distance hurt him-maybe because no one else ever bothered to try to bridge it.
“Has it occurred to you that maybe I see you more clearly than you think I do?” she asked him gently.
That possibility seemed to scare him worse than his theory that she was overromanticizing him. “I, uh-”
He didn't seem to know what else to say.
Banner had been kicked around so much he'd learned to expect nothing better, Lucy decided. His ex-wife had obviously been all wrong for him. Maybe it was his experience with her that made him worry that Lucy was trying to turn him into something he couldn't and didn't want to be.
He had lost confidence in his ability to form relationships with other people-and it was going to take patience and understanding on Lucy's part to convince him there was a chance that something special had developed between them during the past two days. Something that might last a lifetime, if they gave it a chance.
Just as Lucy didn't take long to make up her mind about someone, she saw no need to waste time once she had. “I'd like a chance to get to know the real you, Banner, if you're interested in getting to know the real me. Because, you see, I've been using 'company manners' myself the past couple of days. I'm not really perky and cheerful all the time. Sometimes I'm downright surly.”
That brought a reluctant smile to his lips. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Trust me. Or better yet, ask some of my students. They'll tell you that I can be a pain when I'm in a rotten mood.”
His smile died. “Since the chances are slim that I'll meet any of your higher math students, I doubt that opportunity will ever arise.”
It still seemed to bother him that she was a math professor. Though she didn't quite understand that little hang-up, she figured she would find out the reason eventually. She would deal with it then. If he let her get that far.
She thought she had made it clear enough that she would like to stay a while longer. She had done everything short of tackling him, actually-and she wasn't entirely opposed to that measure, if necessary.
If Lucy had been the shy type who wasn't willing to go after what she wanted, she wouldn't have gotten as far as she had in her career this soon. But she would give him a little more time to make a move toward her first, she thought with a secret smile.
She didn't consider that she was being arrogant. Their last kiss had left little doubt that Banner wanted her.
There was an honesty in his kisses that reflected the innate frankness of the man himself. He wasn't a game player, and he had no patience for the type of insincere flattery other men might use for seduction. He was simply Banner, and to Lucy that fact alone was more captivating than any other man's flowery words had ever been.
This was certainly the first time she had thought about a lasting relationship within forty-eight hours of meeting anyone.
Yet there was still that battle-scarred skittishness to contend with. “Why don't you offer me a cup of tea?” she suggested casually.
The abrupt change of subject seemed to take him aback. “Um, you want some tea?”
“Thank you, I would love some,” she said promptly, as if he were offering rather than merely parroting. More than the tea, she wanted him to relax and stop worrying about what she might expect from him.
At the moment, she wanted nothing more than she had said-a chance to get to know him better. And the best way to get started seemed to be over tea and conversation.
If that didn't work, well, there was always the option of pouncing on him.
The kitchen table seemed bigger somehow with only Banner and Lucy sitting at it. The room itself was notably quiet without the chatter of the departed guests.
Banner was intensely aware of the silence, and self-conscious about his ability to fill it with anything interesting. His ex-wife had expressed her doubts that he would ever develop conversational skills. She had told him once that talking to him had been like trying to carry on a conversation with a block of the wood he worked with.
That had been toward the end of their brief marriage, when she had criticized everything about him, from his lack of ambition to his disinterest in social activities to his thoughtlessness about her happiness. She had taken off not long afterward, and last he'd heard she'd found herself a dirt-track race car driver who liked to party when he wasn't risking his neck at more than a hundred miles an hour. In other words, she had chosen someone who was exactly Banner's opposite-the opposite of the settled, dependable security she had once claimed to want. From all accounts she was much happier now, and so was he, for that matter.
He didn't want to make any more stupid mistakes that would result in anyone else being hurt-himself included.
Lucy seemed perfectly content to sip her tea and wait for him to speak when he was ready, which surprised him since she had claimed a tendency to babble when she was nervous. He supposed she wasn't nervous now, which made him wonder why
He racked his brain for something to say. “So, um, how's your tea?”
She smiled over her cup. “It's delicious, thank you.”
His gaze lingered on her moist, up-curved mouth. And his mind went blank again. Every time Lucy smiled at him, every time she licked a drop of tea from her lips or tossed back her cascade of soft red-gold curls, he went completely tongue-tied.
It was a condition that was familiar to him, since he had never been comfortable making small talk-which made him one lousy date, as he had been informed on a few memorable occasions. But it was even worse with Lucy,
