Three Little Words (Fool's Gold #12)(40)

He pretended disappointment. “Don’t tell me action movies aren’t based in reality. Reese and I will be crushed.”

“You watch them a lot?”

“I’m the single dad of a thirteen-year-old boy. Some days action movies are all we have in common.”

“I like a good action movie. Except most of them get the fighting wrong and that’s annoying.”

“Kind of like being a doctor and trying to watch a medical drama?” he asked.

“Just like that.”

He gave her a wry smile. “Not too many shows about math teachers, so I’m an easy audience.”

“They don’t know what they’re missing. I’ll bet half your female students have a crush on you.”

Kent shook his head. “No way. I’ve cultivated an asexual demeanor in the classroom. Most of my students are shocked to find out I have a kid. A few have even come up and asked if I adopted. I’m their math teacher, not a man. I prefer it that way.”

An attitude she could respect, she thought grimly. Why was it every time she turned around, Kent was even more perfect?

“What?” he demanded.

She looked up at him.

He put down his wineglass and moved toward her. “You have it again. That look. As if you’re thinking of running away.”

Again. He didn’t say that last word, but it hung between them all the same.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “Maybe it would help if you listed your flaws.”

“I don’t understand. Why do you want to know my flaws?”

“To even the playing field.”

Kent stared at her. “You’re kidding, right? If anyone needs a level playing field, it’s me.”

“Why? You’re successful and smart. Responsible, good-looking and really nice.” She held up a hand. “I know you don’t like the nice part, but it sure works for me. Do you know where you live?”

He nodded slowly. “I’m clear on my address. So far I’m not exhibiting any signs of dementia. Do you find memory loss a turn-on?”

She managed a strangled laugh. “No. I mean look at the town you live in. Your house. It’s so normal.”

“Isn’t your house normal? Are you and Angel nailing the furniture to the ceiling?”

“I’ve never lived in a house before. I’ve never had a front yard or a backyard or a mailbox by the curb. I’ve never lived in the suburbs. People I don’t know wave at me here.”

“Do you wave back at them? It’s what’s expected. Because hitting them or shooting them is really frowned on.”

He moved toward her as he spoke. She found herself having to tilt her head slightly so she could meet his gaze.

“You’re not taking me seriously,” she complained.

“I am. I understand that this is different for you. I’m not sure of all the ways, but I respect that you’re trying to fit in. I really like that your past has given you an inflated sense of my appeal and I hope that you never correct your opinion.”

She found herself feeling slightly trapped by his body. Trapped in a good way. Because getting away from him would be a snap. Only she didn’t want to go anywhere. Scared as she was, she wanted to be right here—with Kent close and getting closer.

She put her wine on the counter, then found she didn’t know what to do with her hands. She started to tuck them behind her back, only that made her feel vulnerable. Then she twisted her fingers together. She felt herself getting uncomfortable and knew that anger was only a heartbeat away.

But before she could settle into her go-to emotion, Kent took her hands in his.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“A woman who tells the truth. That’s a new one.”

She smiled, liking the faint scent of soap and man. He was tall and broad, without being overly muscled. She found herself wanting to find out what men in the regular world did on a date. She wanted to listen to Kent talk about almost anything. She wanted to snuggle close and, for the first time in as long as she could remember, feel that someone might want to take care of her.

“Do you think disparaging women is really a smart move?”

“When I’m around you, I can’t think, let alone be smart,” he admitted. “I’ve accepted that. And the fact that you could crush my windpipe.”

She lowered her gaze from his dark eyes to his throat. “It’s not an efficient way to kill, but yes, I could.”

“I guess that means I’m taking my life in my hands if I do this.”

He drew her hands to his sides and then behind him. When her fingers touched his back, he released them and put his on her waist. Then he lowered his head and kissed her.

His mouth was light and soft and more gentle than the brush of a butterfly wing. He didn’t grind or take or pull her against him. There was space between them. Too much space.

This was what she wanted, she thought. A kind man who respected women. A man who took only what was offered and would stop if she asked him to. A man who would never make her feel dirty or afraid.

He drew back and looked at her. His expression was concerned. “You okay?”

She pressed her lips together and nodded. “I wasn’t ready.”

He stiffened and straightened, even as he took a step back. “I’m sorry. I thought—”