Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(17)

“What are you thinking about?”

Lie. He had to lie. I want to strip you down and fuck you on this seat, but I’m trying my hand at being a gentleman, was not an acceptable line. It was too aggressive when she seemed spooked merely from his close proximity. But she was leaving, leaving his town tomorrow, and the slow-game option had been ambitious for Jasper when he knew nothing about it. So he’d tell the truth while leaving out the oh-so-dirty reality in his pants. “I was thinking it would have been a goddamn shame if you’d broken down one town over.” His voice was gravel, so he cleared it. “More than a shame. I’m kind of finding it hard to think about, if you want to know the truth.”

For long moments, he couldn’t hear a single sound in the loud bar. No music, no crunching ice or raucous laughter. And, somehow, he knew she couldn’t hear the noise, either. It was there in the perplexity of her expression. He expected her to call bullshit or make a joke, but she didn’t. She shocked him instead.

“I’ll think I’ll take that kiss now.”





Chapter Eight



Holy hazelnut cannoli.

Rita would have smacked a hand over her mouth to prevent the words from escaping, but they were already out. She’d said them and they were immortalized in her cringe bank for all eternity, destined to pop up and mortify her all over again at inopportune moments. Did normal women who existed outside of sitcoms say things like I’ll think I’ll take that kiss now? Answer: no, they didn’t. They—did something else. Right? They flirted and enticed the man closer until he made the move—right?

Only Jasper was coming closer anyway. Actually, closer was an understatement. His hips were inching her thighs apart on the stool¸ his attention so focused on her mouth that she held her breath so as not to break his concentration. He appeared to be wrestling with his hormones as much as she was, but what sense did that make? They were roughly the same age, which meant this wasn’t their first rodeo, even if it really, honestly, felt like an inaugural bull ride.

He’d be a rougher ride than a bull.

He might as well have whispered that promise out loud because it surrounded him like an aura. Men like Jasper were supposed to be reserved for naughty Internet memes, but here he was. Her own private, moving GIF, only he didn’t loop back to the beginning after three seconds. No, he just kept coming, like he might never stop kissing her once he started. Like he might do a shit ton more than just kiss with that mouth.

But he stopped. He stopped just a breath away, blue eyes lifting to slay her. “You’re gorgeous sitting there, Rita. And I can see you squirming in that seat. God knows I can.” His low growl was one of frustration. “But would you mind if we went somewhere and talked a while? Before we give each other that kiss?”

Confusion and chaos rippled in her bloodstream. He’d asked to talk? She shouldn’t feel like her body had been dipped into warm oil, but there was no mistaking the wicked bottoming-out of her stomach. She’d heard of a thing called woman’s intuition where men are concerned, but she’d never experienced it. Jasper definitely wanted to do more than talk, but he seemed to be holding back. Why?

Behind them, a chorus of voices hooted Jasper’s name, and he flinched. And that flinch kept Rita from turning around. His gaze didn’t stray from hers, either, gaining gravity instead.

Something akin to disappointment dinged in his expression when she hesitated over his offer to talk, and some of his leash appeared to unravel, right before her eyes. “Come with me, Rita. I want to be with you where no one’s watching.” The very tip of his tongue made contact with her lower lip and her brain nearly atrophied. If his echoing groan was any indication, he was just as affected. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? This was her he was kissing. Rita Clarkson. The underachiever of the family, her career summed up in a thirty-second YouTube clip. Nary a romantic prospect to boast of.

“Come with you where?” she breathed.

“Just to my office.” Obviously having interpreted her question for a yesyesfuckinghurry, his big, callused hand closed around her smaller one. “I promise not to keep you back there long enough for anyone to assume I’m taking advantage.” His wink was raw sex with a sense of humor. “And I’ll do my best to bring you back in one piece.”

In somewhat of a daze, Rita allowed Jasper to tug her off her seat. She had the presence of mind to make eye contact with Peggy, who gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up amidst the crowd of men who’d gathered around her. As she was tugged through throngs of bar patrons, Rita’s attention snagged on the dance floor. And the rare sexual confidence she’d been experiencing thanks to Jasper plummeted with a vengeance. Women—sexy women, women in miniskirts—whispered behind their hands as they watched Jasper pull her through the crowd. It was a flashback to high school. To culinary school. To everyday life. She didn’t belong with this charismatic man in this place. God. Had he just grown bored with the local flavor and wanted some strange?

Her feet dug into the saw-dusted floor, but when Jasper turned with obvious concern on his face, words refused to emerge. She couldn’t very well admit out loud that she felt like a fish out of water. That she didn’t understand what the hell he wanted or expected from her. It would make her twice as pathetic as she already felt.

Warm hands clasped the sides of her face, tilting it up. Jasper’s hands, dragging her out of the rocky chasm she’d fallen into. “Sweet Lord. I’ve never had to ask someone what they’re thinking so many times in one day.”