her eyes and shook her head. “You know, in my profession I meet a lot of egos. I don’t believe, however, that I’ve encountered one yet that matches yours. You just don’t get it. I didn’t invite you here. I didn’t ask you to stay.”
“So what’s your point?” he asked with a mock scowl of concentration.
She folded her arms under her breasts and let out a weary breath to keep from smiling. “You’re being deliberately obtuse.”
“One of my stronger suits.”
That little bit of silliness finally earned him a reluctant smile.
“And that’s one of yours. You have a beautiful smile, Stretch. You ought to give in to it more often.” Just like he decided it was time to give in to his urge to touch her.
His smile faded, however, the moment he touched a finger to the corner of her upturned mouth. His smile faded, his world tilted, then shifted and finally settled him into a truth he could no longer avoid.
“Do you believe in love at first sight, Maggie?” His voice had gone rusty with discovery, soft with certainty and intent.
Her dark gaze skittered to his. He loved the way she was trying her best not to act unnerved by his out-of-the-blue question. He loved the way she shook her head and pretended he wasn’t affecting her.
She couldn’t quite pull it off, though, J.D. realized with a satisfaction that waylaid her resistance.
“That line didn’t work when I was sixteen, Hazzard. Don’t count on it working now.”
“There are a lot of things I don’t count on,” J.D. said, inching deeper and deeper into a conviction he’d avoided for the better part of his life. “The weather. The stock market. The Timberwolves making the play-offs.” He searched her face, then held her gaze when she made the mistake of meeting his eyes. “But the one thing I can count on is how I feel about you.”
“Oh, please,” she postured with an exaggerated show of impatience but with a wild little spark of hope and panic he found encouraging and heartbreakingly sad.
“Is it really so upsetting Stretch? The prospect that I find you the most fascinating, the most beautiful, the most desirable woman I’ve ever met?”
She shot off the chair and walked with determined steps toward the kitchen counter. “You need to sort the wheat from the chaff, Hazzard. It’s just your hormones talking again. Confusion runs rampant inside that head of yours.”
When he walked quietly up behind her, he saw that her hands were shaking as she tried to pour herself more coffee. He reached out a hand. Covered hers. Steadied it. Then he turned her in his arms to face him. She stared hard at a spot in the middle of his chest.
“I think maybe there’s a little confusion running amok in someone else’s head, too, hmm?” He rubbed her arms in a gesture of comfort when she made herself look at him. “You don’t want to react to me, Maggie, but you do. I can see it in your eyes. No. Don’t look away.”
She drew a brave, thready breath.
“So good at trying to hide your feelings.” He squeezed her shoulders lightly. “So bad at pulling it off.
“We’d be good together, Stretch,” he murmured, touching a hand to her hair. “Think about it. And while you’re at it, think about this.”
Lord knows, it was all he’d been thinking about. It was also all he could do to keep from devouring her as he lowered his mouth to hers and breathed a feather-light kiss across her lips. When she didn’t bolt, he nipped her lightly, feeling her reluctantly melt—and guardedly shift—then lean into him with reckless surrender to match her movements with his. With a groan, he deepened the contact and pulled her closer.
“Think about this,” he whispered as he pinned her against the counter with his hips, letting her feel the heat and the length and the strength of his arousal pressed against her belly. “About how much I want you. About how I’ve always wanted you.”
He buried his face in the silk and fragrance of her hair.
“So what’s your point?” he asked with a mock scowl of concentration.
She folded her arms under her breasts and let out a weary breath to keep from smiling. “You’re being deliberately obtuse.”
“One of my stronger suits.”
That little bit of silliness finally earned him a reluctant smile.
“And that’s one of yours. You have a beautiful smile, Stretch. You ought to give in to it more often.” Just like he decided it was time to give in to his urge to touch her.
His smile faded, however, the moment he touched a finger to the corner of her upturned mouth. His smile faded, his world tilted, then shifted and finally settled him into a truth he could no longer avoid.
“Do you believe in love at first sight, Maggie?” His voice had gone rusty with discovery, soft with certainty and intent.
Her dark gaze skittered to his. He loved the way she was trying her best not to act unnerved by his out-of-the-blue question. He loved the way she shook her head and pretended he wasn’t affecting her.
She couldn’t quite pull it off, though, J.D. realized with a satisfaction that waylaid her resistance.
“That line didn’t work when I was sixteen, Hazzard. Don’t count on it working now.”
“There are a lot of things I don’t count on,” J.D. said, inching deeper and deeper into a conviction he’d avoided for the better part of his life. “The weather. The stock market. The Timberwolves making the play-offs.” He searched her face, then held her gaze when she made the mistake of meeting his eyes. “But the one thing I can count on is how I feel about you.”
“Oh, please,” she postured with an exaggerated show of impatience but with a wild little spark of hope and panic he found encouraging and heartbreakingly sad.
“Is it really so upsetting Stretch? The prospect that I find you the most fascinating, the most beautiful, the most desirable woman I’ve ever met?”
She shot off the chair and walked with determined steps toward the kitchen counter. “You need to sort the wheat from the chaff, Hazzard. It’s just your hormones talking again. Confusion runs rampant inside that head of yours.”
When he walked quietly up behind her, he saw that her hands were shaking as she tried to pour herself more coffee. He reached out a hand. Covered hers. Steadied it. Then he turned her in his arms to face him. She stared hard at a spot in the middle of his chest.
“I think maybe there’s a little confusion running amok in someone else’s head, too, hmm?” He rubbed her arms in a gesture of comfort when she made herself look at him. “You don’t want to react to me, Maggie, but you do. I can see it in your eyes. No. Don’t look away.”
She drew a brave, thready breath.
“So good at trying to hide your feelings.” He squeezed her shoulders lightly. “So bad at pulling it off.
“We’d be good together, Stretch,” he murmured, touching a hand to her hair. “Think about it. And while you’re at it, think about this.”
Lord knows, it was all he’d been thinking about. It was also all he could do to keep from devouring her as he lowered his mouth to hers and breathed a feather-light kiss across her lips. When she didn’t bolt, he nipped her lightly, feeling her reluctantly melt—and guardedly shift—then lean into him with reckless surrender to match her movements with his. With a groan, he deepened the contact and pulled her closer.
“Think about this,” he whispered as he pinned her against the counter with his hips, letting her feel the heat and the length and the strength of his arousal pressed against her belly. “About how much I want you. About how I’ve always wanted you.”
He buried his face in the silk and fragrance of her hair.
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