The Billionaire and the Virgin (Billionaires and Bridesmaids #1)(27)

She nodded, her expression woeful. “I’m pretty rotten at it, huh?”

“Well, it wasn’t good,” he agreed. “Is that what all the arm-touching was for? And the laughing?”

“Was it obvious?”

“I wasn’t sure what you were doing. Thought you were on drugs at first.”

“I don’t normally drink, either.”

“No shit.”

She batted at his arm with one hand, but she was smiling now. “Gosh, you must think I’m such a fool.”

“Nah.” He laughed. “Okay, actually, some of it was pretty f*cking ridiculous.”

She threw a handful of sand at him. “Aren’t you supposed to make me feel better about this if I confess my sins?”

“You got the wrong guy for that,” he said, ducking away from the flying sand. “But thank god all of that was just to impress me. You were acting weird as shit.”

Marjorie stuck her tongue out at him.

“Careful,” he teased. “I might bite that.” Immediately the tongue went back into her mouth, and he couldn’t stop grinning. God, sitting here and having a real talk with her was so much better than the last two dates. “Since we’re coming clean,” Rob said, tugging at his sweater vest. “This isn’t me. I’m a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy, and I cuss like a f*cking sailor.” He tore the sweater vest off over his head and flung it into the ocean. “So I guess we both tried to be something we’re not.”

“Looks like we’re both ridiculous,” Marjorie agreed.

“I don’t know jack shit about bingo, either.”

“I do,” she confessed with a small, cheeky little grin. “You’re not very good at it. You were missing half of your numbers.”

“That’s because some nut kept touching my arm,” he retorted.

Marjorie laughed. She laughed hard and clutched her sides, rolling onto the sand. “Oh my goodness. What a nightmare. I can’t believe you wanted to go out again!”

He had, because he remembered this about her. These brief glimpses of pure sweetness and no pretense. The Marjorie who brayed with laughter when she truly found something funny, who had a mischievous smile, and who didn’t bat an eye when he threw f-bombs her way. “I guess we can just keep tallying up my ridiculousness, huh?” When she smiled, he leaned closer to her. “I don’t like to dance, either.”

She gave a small sigh. “Neither do I.”

That surprised him. “Really? I thought you liked it.”

Marjorie wiggled her sandy toes at him. “No. Everyone stares at me when I stand up as it is. Why would I want to go out and perform in front of them?” She gestured at her heels. “The only reason I wore these tonight was because the other shoes had been puked on.” She grimaced and looked over at him. “I really am a terrible date.”

“You want to know what I think?”

“I’m not sure.” She gave him a faint smile, but her tone was nervous.

“I think,” Rob began slowly. “That you have beautiful, long legs. And that they look f*cking fantastic in a pair of high heels. And if they make you feel good, you should wear them.”

“I’ll tower over my date—”

“Any man who’s not secure enough to be seen with a gorgeous woman who just happens to be taller than him doesn’t deserve the aforementioned gorgeous woman. He can go f*ck himself.”

Her eyes widened and a shocked little giggle—a genuine giggle—escaped her.

“I think you should wear the f*cking tallest shoes you can find,” Rob said, warming to his topic. “I don’t give a rat’s ass if they make you eight feet tall, if you feel like a goddamn goddess in them. Because I imagine you’d look like one.”

“I don’t know about that—”

“I do,” he said bluntly. “I’ve been having erotic dreams about your long legs over my shoulders in a pair of f*ck-me heels, so just because it’s not every man’s fantasy doesn’t mean that it’s not mine.”

Marjorie’s eyes were round in the moonlight.

“Too crude? Sorry. Actually, no, f*ck that. I’m not sorry. This is who I really am.” He kicked at the sweater-vest that kept washing up against his ankles. “I’m not this pansy little f*cker. I’m just an average guy with a filthy mouth and filthy daydreams. I’m probably ruining any fantasies of yours.”

“No,” she said softly. “You’re not.”

Huh. “You like a guy that talks dirty to you?”

She shook her head. “I like a guy that’s real. And a little flawed. It makes me feel better about my flaws. You were just so utterly perfect that I felt like I couldn’t possibly be good enough for you.”

He snorted. Perfect? Him? “You have a strange idea of perfect, sweetheart.”

She nudged him with her shoulder. When had they drifted to sitting so close together? But now they were inches apart. “Not your sweetheart,” she reminded him in a pleasant voice.

“Not yet.”

Marjorie sucked in a breath and looked over at him, her eyes heavily lidded. It was obvious she’d liked that comment. Her gaze strayed to his mouth, and god, he wanted to f*cking kiss her in that moment.