When in Paris... (Language of Love) by Beverley Kendall Page B

I’m not totally clueless. I know a choice porterhouse and tenderloin cut when I see one.
    It’s getting pretty dark by the time we load the grocery bags into the back of the truck. I know I’m inviting trouble the next time I open my mouth to speak, but it’s like I can’t stop myself.
    “ You eaten dinner yet?” I ask after I climb into the driver’s seat.
    “ No, I’m supposed to meet April at the cafe in fifteen minutes. She just texted that she’s waiting for me.”
    I’d seen her fiddling with her cell in the store and wondered who she was texting. I get the impression she’s not seeing Jeff anymore. Which means she’s available.
    Yeah, but available for what?
    “ Gotcha.”
    I asked. She answered. We’re good. I’m just going to drop her off and see her in class tomorrow. Oh, there’s definitely something between us but I’m not sure she’s willing to act on it.
    “ You don’t talk about your brother much, do you?”
    Okay, where did that come from? I slant a glance at her. From her expression and what I’ve learned about her, it doesn’t look like she’s asking for the usual reasons girls ask me about Brett. Which is why I rarely talk about him and when I do, it’s in a way that doesn’t encourage other questions. That had sure stopped the autograph hounds, the guys looking to score tickets and those who wanted a connection to his high-profile life.
    “ There’s not much to say.” I reverse out of the parking spot.
    “ Do the two of you get along?”
    I laugh. “Okay, what is it you really want to know?”
    “ It’s just that I think most guys would never let people forget that their brother is the quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys.”
    “ I guess I’m not like most guys, am I?”
    She begins running the leather strap of her handbag between her thumb and index finger. Back and forth, back and forth, like a nervous twitch. She shoots me a look from the corner of her eye and laughs lightly. “Was that a question?”
    “ No, just wanted to see how long it’d take for you to look me in the eye. Do I make you nervous or something?” I’m more interested in the or something . Whether she’ll admit to it or not is a whole other thing.
    Instantly, her head comes up and she turns toward me. “Of course not. Why would I be?”
    “ I don’t know, maybe because in high school I’d catch you looking at me.”
    If I were a nicer guy, I probably wouldn’t mess with her so much but I have to get points for not bringing up the breast exam she’d made me give her. No, I haven’t said a word about that but I certainly haven’t forgotten it. Never will.
    For a second she gives herself away as panic, horror, embarrassment, and then a combination of all three flare in her eyes.
    “ I did not.”
    As expected, an unequivocal denial. All I know is I love it when she gets all pink and flustered.
    I return my attention to the road. “Olivia,” I warn teasingly, “don’t lie or your nose will grow.”
    Crickets chirp in the half minute of silence it takes me to turn into the parking lot of her dorm and pull into the first available spot near the doors. After I shut off the engine, I look over and find her yanking on the handle of the door, clearly desperate to get out.
    “ The door’s locked.”
    She stops and slowly turns her head toward me, her eyes finally meeting mine.
    “ Um, can you unlock it?”
    I can’t help but smile. “Hey, I used to stare at you too.”
    Her eyes go wide as if that’s the last thing she expected to come out of my mouth. “Why? You didn’t like me.”
    “ Why wouldn’t I want to look at a beautiful girl?”
    She blinks three times in quick succession and swallows hard. I’m familiar with that look, that look of awareness because damn if I haven’t felt it a million times over the last four years.
    “ Zach, I thought we agreed we were going to be friends.”
    “ And we are.” Grocery shopping together is friendly. And what I want to do to her