She gulped back another sip of punch, hoping it would cool the burn. It didn’t.
Which didn’t make sense because she’d banned men right along with Christmas two years ago. Especially a man like the one grinning at her. A man like that one would incinerate the already shattered bits of her heart.
“Oh! Shh! He’s coming this way,” one of the women squealed, slapping the other’s arm and sloshing a little of her Cosmopolitan onto the ballroom floor. All three of the women struck we-weren’t-just-talking-about-you poses and one gave a fake laugh as if whatever they were discussing was of the utmost interest and batted her lashes flirtatiously.
Really? Trinity wanted to roll her eyes. She glanced Mr. Lickable’s way again to see if he’d caught onto the women fan-girling him.
Yet again her gaze collided with electric blue and this time didn’t let go, couldn’t let go, as if there was some magnetic force at play that held her eyes in place.
She forgot how to inhale. Literally and figuratively. She couldn’t breathe.
Wow. He really was a beautiful man. Dark brown hair that had just a touch of golden curl and looked invitingly soft. Tanned skin that hinted he spent a lot of his time outdoors and, living next to the Gulf of Mexico, he probably did. He had a face and body gorgeous enough to give any movie-star hunk a complex.
Then there were those eyes.
So intensely blue that they had to be contact lenses, because no one’s eyes could really be that blue. Or that full of mischief. No doubt he’d been one of those kids who’d stayed on Santa’s naughty list.
Yes, the women were right. He was hot, so hot her mouth felt like the Sahara but the rest of her rivaled a rainforest and was probably putting damp spots on her dress. Great. Managing to shift her eyes, she took another sip of her punch, draining the clear plastic cup. Oops. Now what was she going to do with her nervous hands?
“Do you want something else to drink?” Mr. Hotness himself asked, walking past the we-weren’t-just-talking-about-you women and planting himself right in front of Trinity.
She glanced to either side, expecting to see some parched Delilah close by. He couldn’t be talking to Plain Jane her, right? And if he was, why?
The trio was staring at her in dropped-jaw surprise. She was surprised herself. She wasn’t chopped liver, but she didn’t kid herself that she was the model type this guy most likely dated either.
The last swig of punch had done nothing to help her dry mouth, which was problematic. Her tongue stuck to her palate, refusing to budge. She was positive anything she attempted to say could and would be held against her.
“I’ll be happy to get you more punch,” he added, causing a wave of eyebrow rises from their spectators. “Or anything else you might want.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a sexy grin. “I’m a man who aims to please.”
If the heavy-chested blonde had fallen into a fit of vapors right then and there, Trinity wouldn’t have been surprised. She was about to need resuscitation herself.
He was flirting.
With her.
Eyes narrowing suspiciously, brain reeling, she peeled her dry tongue free of the roof of her mouth. “Then perhaps you should aim elsewhere.”
Because, really, what would be the point of encouraging him? She wasn’t interested in a relationship, or anything else.
Rather than take the hint and move on, his devilish grin widened, digging dimples into his cheeks. “You don’t like to be pleased?”
Darn it. He was quick tongued and she’d set herself up for that one. No matter how she answered, he’d twist her words. The mischievous gleam in his eyes assured that.
She shoved her empty cup toward him. “Punch.”
Fantastic. She sounded as if she had a mouthful of peanut butter and the IQ of a rock, but at least letting him get her punch would give her a reprieve.
Taking her cup, he laughed. “Then punch it is, but don’t think I’m letting you off the hook. We’ll discuss what gives you pleasure when I get back.” His eyes sparkled. “I could make a few suggestions even.”
Heat washed over her body, melting her from the inside out at the thought of just what those suggestions might be.
Not that it mattered. She so wasn’t having that conversation with him.
“I wouldn’t hold my breath if I were you,” she mumbled.
She didn’t meet his gaze and earn another laugh from him and an “Is she crazy?” from one of their billing-department eavesdroppers.
They probably thought she was, but the reality was that she didn’t want to attract a man like him. Chase had been as high octane as she went and look where that had gotten her. Burnt. Burnt. Burnt.