like someone when you don’t?”
“None whatsoever.” He grinned. “I guess that means you like me.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she teased. Why was he so easy to talk to? “But apparently I am attracted to you.”
“And I’m attracted to you.” His gentle kiss made her lips tingle. “There’s some serious chemistry between us.”
There was. It snapped in the air and sensitized her skin where their bodies touched. Pheromones. Mysterious substances that science barely understood, which coaxed humans into situations any sane person would avoid. Like lying cheek to cheek with the man whose business you were investigating.
“It’s a shame chemistry doesn’t last and that after a while you have to actually be compatible and get along.” She wanted to let him know she didn’t expect this crazy fling to go anywhere. Or maybe she just wanted to reject him before he could reject her.
“You have to start somewhere.” He kissed her again. She wished he’d stop doing that! It stirred all kinds of sensations deep in her belly. Sensations that made her wish he were inside her again. What kind of woman had he turned her into? “How do you know we’re not perfectly compatible?”
“Us? That’s funny.” She didn’t want him to think his words had any effect on her, but they did. They were both good with numbers. Both hardworking and determined. She would have once said that he was a notorious playboy and she was the exact opposite, but her current position here in his arms proved that she wasn’t so entirely different from him when the opportunity for romance presented itself.
Romance? Where had that word come from? There wasn’t anything terribly romantic about their relationship so far. Romance was flirtation and candlelit dinners and hopeful conversations. They’d gone straight from zero to sixty with very little preamble.
She’d better not let herself start thinking that this was a romance, or she was likely to end up with a broken heart.
“I don’t think it’s so funny at all. My grandparents are very different and they’ve been together for almost fifty years. He was wild and considered himself a beatnik. He wrote terrible poetry and played the trumpet, and he was getting ready to run away to New York and become a jazz musician when he met my grandmother while delivering milk to a local depot. She’d just moved here with her family from Minnesota and had never dated or kissed a boy in her life. She was training to become a schoolteacher and spent her evenings reading and knitting. He charmed her and she tamed him and they’ve been together ever since.”
“Oh.” A dangerous charmer and a good girl. Sounded familiar.
“He was very good-looking. She always said that she never stood a chance against him.”
“Have they been happy?” She was genuinely curious. People always talked about those opposites-attract relationships, but she didn’t know how often they really worked out.
“Very. They’ve had their ups and downs, of course. My mom—the one who gave birth to me—was even wilder than my grandfather when he was young, and it ended up killing her. Her death put a strain on their relationship, as a child’s death often does. My grandmother blamed my grandfather for not being stricter with her, and he blamed her for not being more accepting. He felt that if my mom had still lived at home maybe she wouldn’t have gone out drinking and driving on the night she died.”
“If things were different, maybe you wouldn’t have been born.” She stroked the wrinkle that had formed between his brows. “So much of life depends on chance.”
She’d never had that thought before. She was a planner, and unapologetic about it. She’d had her whole life mapped out from about age eleven: she’d intended to meet and marry a nice, appropriate spouse during college, then work for several years to build their finances and buy a house before they started a family. She’d planned her career
“None whatsoever.” He grinned. “I guess that means you like me.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she teased. Why was he so easy to talk to? “But apparently I am attracted to you.”
“And I’m attracted to you.” His gentle kiss made her lips tingle. “There’s some serious chemistry between us.”
There was. It snapped in the air and sensitized her skin where their bodies touched. Pheromones. Mysterious substances that science barely understood, which coaxed humans into situations any sane person would avoid. Like lying cheek to cheek with the man whose business you were investigating.
“It’s a shame chemistry doesn’t last and that after a while you have to actually be compatible and get along.” She wanted to let him know she didn’t expect this crazy fling to go anywhere. Or maybe she just wanted to reject him before he could reject her.
“You have to start somewhere.” He kissed her again. She wished he’d stop doing that! It stirred all kinds of sensations deep in her belly. Sensations that made her wish he were inside her again. What kind of woman had he turned her into? “How do you know we’re not perfectly compatible?”
“Us? That’s funny.” She didn’t want him to think his words had any effect on her, but they did. They were both good with numbers. Both hardworking and determined. She would have once said that he was a notorious playboy and she was the exact opposite, but her current position here in his arms proved that she wasn’t so entirely different from him when the opportunity for romance presented itself.
Romance? Where had that word come from? There wasn’t anything terribly romantic about their relationship so far. Romance was flirtation and candlelit dinners and hopeful conversations. They’d gone straight from zero to sixty with very little preamble.
She’d better not let herself start thinking that this was a romance, or she was likely to end up with a broken heart.
“I don’t think it’s so funny at all. My grandparents are very different and they’ve been together for almost fifty years. He was wild and considered himself a beatnik. He wrote terrible poetry and played the trumpet, and he was getting ready to run away to New York and become a jazz musician when he met my grandmother while delivering milk to a local depot. She’d just moved here with her family from Minnesota and had never dated or kissed a boy in her life. She was training to become a schoolteacher and spent her evenings reading and knitting. He charmed her and she tamed him and they’ve been together ever since.”
“Oh.” A dangerous charmer and a good girl. Sounded familiar.
“He was very good-looking. She always said that she never stood a chance against him.”
“Have they been happy?” She was genuinely curious. People always talked about those opposites-attract relationships, but she didn’t know how often they really worked out.
“Very. They’ve had their ups and downs, of course. My mom—the one who gave birth to me—was even wilder than my grandfather when he was young, and it ended up killing her. Her death put a strain on their relationship, as a child’s death often does. My grandmother blamed my grandfather for not being stricter with her, and he blamed her for not being more accepting. He felt that if my mom had still lived at home maybe she wouldn’t have gone out drinking and driving on the night she died.”
“If things were different, maybe you wouldn’t have been born.” She stroked the wrinkle that had formed between his brows. “So much of life depends on chance.”
She’d never had that thought before. She was a planner, and unapologetic about it. She’d had her whole life mapped out from about age eleven: she’d intended to meet and marry a nice, appropriate spouse during college, then work for several years to build their finances and buy a house before they started a family. She’d planned her career
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