Strong and Sexy (Sky High Air #2)(5)

“You looked like you could use a moment alone.”

“Yes, but I’m not alone,” she said pointedly.

He smiled.

Her happy spots stood up and tap-danced, but her brain beat them back down.

Then he stepped closer, and her happy spots won the battle. All around her, the closet seemed to shrink. The shelves closed in, the light dimmed, and she couldn’t see anything but this man looking at her, smiling easily, relaxed, laid-back.

Sexy.

Trying to be cool, she smoothed back her hair and attempted to balance on her one heel—and nearly went down. At least she caught herself before he could, at the expense of her pride.

And her hair.

It fell in her face and over her shoulders as one of the pencils she’d forgotten about hit the floor.

A pencil. The one she’d shoved in at work to hold her hair off her head when she’d been vaccinating a panda. God, she was such a hopeless geek.

Before she could beat herself up about it, he bent for the fallen pencil and handed it to her. “Yours?”

“Um. Yeah.” Be cool. Please, be cool. “It’s a new thing. You know, a casual/formal thing—”

At his arched brow, she sighed. “Fine. I was late and forgot to do my hair.”

He flashed that dimple, and just like that, her other senses kicked in. Mostly the lust sense. But she cut herself some slack because he was fairly dazzling. So dazzling that her skin was feeling too tight for her bones. Or maybe that was just her dress, shrink-wrapped to her body thanks to the champagne.

Following her thoughts, his smile faded. “I’m so sorry about the drinks. How can I make it up to you?”

Oh, let me count the ways. “No,” she told herself.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Talking to myself. Bad habit.” She realized she was inviting him to think she was as nuts as her family thought her. “I mean…”

“That’s okay. I talk to myself sometimes too. Look, can I get you something? Anything?”

Confidence on tap, please. “I’m good. Wet, but good.”

He laughed.

She blushed. “I mean—”

“I know what you mean.” He studied her for a moment. “You’re like a breath of fresh air, you know that?”

She started to squirm, then stopped and looked at him right back. Was he…flirting with her? “How many times has that line worked for you?”

Leaning back against the shelves, he flashed that dimple, looking fairly off the charts while doing it, but not very abashed. “Quite a few, actually.”

She laughed. Laughed. Ask him to stand beneath the mistletoe, her body begged. She opened her mouth to do just that, just as he pushed away from the shelves and brought that leanly muscled body closer.

Oh boy.

His chest pressed into hers, and his arms, when he lifted them, surrounded her. Oh, God. Someone here did look at her, did see her…desire her.

He was going to kiss her.

“Oh,” she whispered, thrilled, even as her breath backed up in her throat. Yes, he was going to kiss her and she hadn’t had to ask. That was the very best kind, and she stared at his mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered. Thank you? God, be quiet. Don’t ramble now! “I’m just so glad—I mean…”

His mouth curved quizzically. It was a good mouth, an enticing mouth. Despite her reservations, despite the insane evening, she couldn’t wait to feel it on hers, to have him take her out of herself and make her feel wanted. Waiting for it, she closed her eyes, and— “Here you go.”

She opened her eyes and met his golden ones.

He’d pulled something off the shelf behind her and was handing it to her.

A towel.

“You’ve got to be soaked through,” he said.

Well, her brain certainly. She took the towel and pressed it to her torso, because yes, she was soaked through. And that was the reason her nipples had gone all happy. The only reason.

God, she really was an idiot.

Pulling yet another towel off the shelf, he glided the soft material along her throat. “I’m really so sorry,” he murmured, his gaze on the task at hand.

Which was not kissing her.

“It’s okay.” Maturely, she closed her eyes again and wished for a huge, giant hole to swallow her up. “It wasn’t your fault.”

She heard him toss the towel aside, but she didn’t open her eyes. Couldn’t bring herself to. Until she felt his hand, his big, warm hand, cup her jaw. His fingertips were at her hairline now, just the simple, easy touch making her knees a little wobbly.

Damn champagne.

“Why do you look so familiar?” His mouth was close to her ear, close enough to cause a whole series of hopeful shivers to rack her body. He was rock-solid against her, all corded muscle and testosterone.

Lots of testosterone.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, still hoping for a big hole to take her.

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Completely.” Except, you know, not.

“Because I can’t help but think I’m missing something here.”

Yes, yes, he was missing something. He’d missed her whole pathetic attempt at a kiss seduction, for instance. And the fact that she was totally, one hundred percent out of her league here with him. But his eyes were deep, so very deep, and leveled right on hers, evenly, patiently, giving her the sense that he was always even, always patient. Never rattled or ruffled.