Wicked Heart (Starcrossed #3)(17)

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says as he gazes at me. “Look at what happened tonight. Out of all the women in New York, I found you.”

I give him a skeptical brow. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not the first woman you’ve flirted with on those steps?”

“Wrong,” he says. “Never done it before. Still not sure why I did it tonight.” There’s mischief in his eyes, so I have no idea if he’s telling the truth or not.

“I see,” I say. “So you’re saying you fell in love with me at first sight?”

He leans forward. “Maybe. Meet me in the middle of Central Park in six years, and I’ll let you know for sure.”

We stare at each other for long seconds, and the urge to kiss him is crazy strong.

“You have the most beautiful lips I’ve ever seen,” he whispers. My lips tingle just from his words. I put my hand over them to make them stop. That makes him smile. “And I find it sexy as hell that every time I’ve said something nice to you tonight, your cheeks have turned bright pink. It makes me wonder why you’re so embarrassed to receive compliments. I’m sure men tell you how gorgeous you are all the time.”

I press my hand to my rapidly heating face. I’d be lying if I denied receiving compliments regularly, and usually I’m confident enough to take them graciously. But Liam has the power to turn me into a blushing freak, and I find that very uncool.

“Can we please change the subject?” I say. “Blushing isn’t my favorite thing to do, and if you keep talking about my lips, it’s going to keep happening.”

“Fine by me.” When I glare at him, he chuckles. “Okay, then, let’s talk about why you don’t believe in fate. Or love at first sight. Or any of that romantic stuff most girls subscribe to. What’s the story?” Subject change or not, he’s still staring at my mouth.

“No story. Statistics tell us that true love is a myth, and I haven’t seen anything to prove otherwise.”

He brings his gaze up to mine, and I can’t believe how beautiful his eyes are. Green-blue with a dark navy ring around the outside. I’ve never seen anything like them.

“Sounds reasonable, but I’m sensing there’s more to it. So, you can either level with me voluntarily, or I’ll be forced to get the information through less-than-gentlemanly means, and trust me when I say I would really enjoy that.”

Okay, now he’s just flat-out trying to destroy my composure, and I’m horrified it’s working.

“It’s really not that interesting,” I say, looking down at my hands. “Let’s just say that if I had a business card, it would read ‘Elissa Holt, Preparer of Men for Other Women.’”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve had a handful of boyfriends, and they’ve all dumped me to be with someone else. Every one. It’s possible I’m cursed.”

I look up to see him watching me thoughtfully. “I see. And where did you meet these mentally incompetent jackasses?”

“In drama club,” I say with a laugh. “They were all actors, and they all left me for their leading ladies.”

“Ahh, that explains your earlier reaction. So now you think all actors are bastards?”

A ghost of past heartache twinges in my chest. “No. Just the ones I fall in love with. So now, I have a no-actor rule. It’s working out great so far.”

He’s silent for a moment, and then says, “Okay—I get it,” before turning to stare across the street.

We’re silent for a while, and when his shoulder brushes against mine, I close my eyes and sigh.

Okay, great. He’s gorgeous, arrogant, and spends hundreds of dollars on Shakespeare tickets—of course he’s an actor. And I’ve just shut down the possibility of anything happening between us.

I shake my head in frustration over yet again being drawn to exactly the type of man I’m trying to avoid.

Why couldn’t he be a policeman? Or a construction worker? Or a cowboy?

Wait, did I just wish for him to be a member of the Village People?

Liam’s shoulder brushes mine again. It makes me tingle, and I suspect he’s doing it on purpose. I really need to get out of here, because the longer I stay, the more tempted I am to say “screw it” to my sense of self-preservation and just give in to the dozens of horny fantasies currently running through my mind.

Before I can move, he says, “You’re leaving, aren’t you?”

I turn to him. “How did you know?”

“You’ve been tensing up for the past few minutes. I figured you were either going to bail or rip off my shirt. Considering my shirt is sadly still in one piece, I guess leaving won out.”

I give him a smile, grateful he’s not making this harder than it needs to be. “Very perceptive. I have a big day tomorrow. I really should get home and go to bed.”

He leans forward a little, and dammit, he’s looking at my lips again. “I have a bed downstairs. It would be much faster to go there.”

I concentrate on keeping my breathing even as he continues inching toward me. “Yes, but I need to get some rest, and I have a feeling if we go to your bed, there’d be none of that.”

He’s so close now, he has to turn his head so our noses don’t bump. “No. There really wouldn’t.”