She turned her gaze to him. “Did you mean what you said lastnight?”
Deflect, deflect! “I said a lot of things last night, and I wasdrunk for most of ’em. I wouldn’t believe a word if Iwere you.”
Her eyebrows touched, then quickly eased. “Right.”
“Why? What did I say?” Maybe she doesn’t remember the “Ilove you.”
“Does it matter? I mean, if it’s not believable.”
Alarm bells began clanging in his head, and it hurt like amotherfucker. Events were fuzzy, but he didn’t recall blacking out. “Pleasetell me I didn’t say something really inappropriate.” Like how Ican’t stop thinking about you, about how badly I want to taste you and beinside you. Or all the other things I want to do to you. Christ, please tell meI didn’t go there. He groaned inwardly as other possibilities popped intohis head.
“Sometimes I say too much,” he muttered.
“It was nice.”
Confusion must have shown all over his face, because shefollowed with, “I mean it was kinda weird when youthink about it.”
What the hell did I do?
“You know, you showing up drunk as a skunk, me ready tothrow you out, then we end up cuddling and talking. Intimate without being …intimate. Weird, but nice.”
This conversation, and the recollection of last night’s,should’ve made his skin prickle and crawl, but it didn’t. It was weirdbut nice. Really nice. He couldn’t imagine doing thatwith anyone else. And she was still talking to him. Hell, she was going tobreakfast with him!
“So you don’t hate me?” Wait. Did she say intimate?
She tilted her head. “No, I don’t hate you. Besides, you’vegot that well covered all by yourself.”
“What does that mean?”
“Kinda hard for others to love youwhen you don’t love you. Maybe cut yourself some slack?”
He looked around himself. “Dr. Phil, what have you done withNatalie Foster?”
She gave him an eye-roll. “Always with the jokes.”
“Some smartass told me humor’s good for greasing something.”
.~* * * ~.
Electric razor in hand and Ford at hisfeet, T.J. stared at his reflection in the mirror. He tugged on his jaw. “Whatdo you think, buddy? Clean-shaven or trim what’s here? Women like the stubble,right?”
Yesterday, he couldn’t have given a rat’s ass what his datethought of how he looked. The stubble hadn’t been deliberate—just the result ofseveral days’ laziness. It wasn’t as if he needed to disguise himself anymore.Which, admittedly, felt pretty good.
“Heads, I keep it. Tails, it goes.” He glanced at Ford, whowagged his tail. “Tails it is. Good call. Less likelihood ofbeard burn. Assuming I get that close. And if you tell her I said that,no Pup-Peroni for you.”
While he shaved, a sizzle and pop coursed through hissystem, as if he’d been hooked up to electrical current. Natalie was all he’dthought about all day. He should’ve been tired, but he was amped up. Should’vebeen hungry, but he couldn’t eat. Shouldn’t have been primed after jackingoff—twice—just thinking about lying next to her last night, but he was ready.And hopeful. And damn nervous.
A half hour later, he stood on her stoop with Ford. When sheopened the front door, it occurred to him he’d need to rub out a third one. Hisbreath caught in his throat, and he did a double-take,his brain racing to process what he was seeing. Was this the same woman? Hisbody had no problem processing, voicing its approval with a silentsalute and general chaos breaking out in his pants.
Fuuuuuck me!
Please.
She was devastatingly dressed in a black, sleeveless numberthat hugged her slim waist and every curve, sheathing and showcasing herperfect hips. The dress stopped above her knees, exposing mile-long legs andshort high-heeled boots. Her glossy chestnut hair spilled in loose curls overher shoulders, down her front, curving under her breasts like a pair of handslovingly cupping them. Like his hands longed to do.
“You’re early.” She laughed.
“Is that bad?”
“No. It just tells me you’re hungry. As usual.”
Something about the way she said it calmed his firingnerves. Like she knew him well. Shared his secrets with him. Of course, if she reallyknew him, she’d know how little interest food held for him in that moment.In fact, he wasn’t sure when he’d be able to eat tonight for all thesomersaulting in his stomach.
She flicked her eyes to his car. “That’s your Audi?”
“Yeah, I traded the H1 for something more practical. Likeit?”
“Love it. I thought it was Gage’s.”
Ford followed her inside the house, shooting him a look thatsaid, “You coming, dumbass, or you just gonna droolon her doorstep?” T.J. mouthed, She likes the car, at him, two-steppedinto the living room, and closed the door. “You sure Ford’s okay to stay herewhile we’re out?”
“Of course.” She looked at T.J.’s side and blinked. “Are allthose for me?”
Reminded of the flowers he held, he thrust the bag at her,along with a wrapped present.
Her eyes widened as she cradled the gifts in her arms. “Wow!Did you buy out the entire flower shop?”
His hand shot to his nape and smoothed. “I, uh, didn’t knowwhat you liked, so I got an assortment.” Having never given a woman flowersbefore, he’d had little idea what to buy. So he bought it all.
“I’m not sure I have enough vases.” Anotherlilting laugh that enveloped him like melted caramel sauce. She headedfor the kitchen, and he trailed behind, entranced. “I’ll just put these inwater.” While he stared blatantly, roving his eyes all over her, she grabbed abucket from under the sink and filled it. “There must be six bouquets here!”
“Nine.”
She began wrestling with the gift, which was more scotchtape than paper—he’d never wrapped a present in his life—and he began to panicwhen she finally freed it and arched an eyebrow. “John Wick: Chapter 2?”
“I know how much you like Keanu …” Jesus! What had he beenthinking? He hadn’t—because his blood hadn’t been circulating to his brain formost of the day, nor was it about to work its way above his neck anytime soon.What an idiot! He should’ve brought diamonds or a car. Yeah,a car. She needed one of those. Maybe he should give her the Audi …
“I love it!” she gushed, and relief flooded him. “That wasreally thoughtful. Maybe we can curl up on
