Mr. Fiancé(107)

Chapter 6





Carrie





The Bangkok House is not just a restaurant, but a cafe as well, and with the late summer heat breaking slightly to the cool of early fall, I'm glad that the waitress seats Duncan and me at an outdoor table.

"Wow," Duncan says for the second time, and I feel the warmth creeping up my cheeks. I took half an hour standing in front of my closet before picking my dress, one of the cutest I own. The wide shoulder straps and relatively high-cut neckline help support the built-in light bra while I can still wear another underneath, and the tummy area is tighter than I would ever feel comfortable wearing in normal situations, but if Duncan is going to ask me out on a date, then I want to look good.

I feel buzzed, and I understand more about the personal magnetism that is Duncan Hart. "So how was practice today?" I ask as the waitress brings around our drinks, Coke for him, lemon water for me. "Sorry, Coach T had me working the training room all afternoon, doing ultrasound and contrast therapy with the girls on the volleyball team. By the way, Linda says hi."

"Yeah, I bet." Duncan chuckles and takes a sip of his drink. "It went well, but to be honest, I'd rather talk about anything but football. You'll get a whole view of that this Saturday. By the way, speaking of Linda, someone told me that I ran you over in the hallway that day when I said something to her the day before we met. Is that true?"

I nod, laughing. "You plowed me over pretty good. You were wearing your sling and never even gave me a second glance."

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t hold it against me. These past few months—they've been some good times."

"Thanks, I guess . . . for me, too," I say, and I know I'm blushing, but I can't help it. "I still don't know why you asked me out, though—I’m not going to be a booty call. There are lots of girls on campus who’ll be that, I’m sure.”

I'm surprised that, instead of denying it or playing it off, Duncan just accepts what I say as a fact. "There are, but I don’t want them. I’m done with that.”

I'm stunned, and I blink, making sure my ears are still working. "Say what?"

"I don’t want those girls,” Duncan says simply, giving me one of his heart stopping smiles. I know I'm too young and in good enough shape to be having a heart attack, but damn if it doesn't feel that way right now. "I want you. Especially after you came in that dress."

“Please. It's not my best look," I say, looking down, but Duncan stops me, his fingers lifting my chin. "I mean, it’s a nice dress, but I need to lose a few. I shouldn’t have worn it."

Duncan starts laughing, and at first, I’m a little pissed. "You really don't know, do you?"

I sit there in silence, unable to take my eyes from his. He shakes his head, his eyes intense, and I pull back, unable to handle it. “Don't tease me, Duncan.”

He reaches beneath the table and rests his hand on my thigh, just over my dress. "I'm not teasing," he says softly. “You’ve got the sexiest legs I've ever seen, beautiful hair, and don’t get me started on your eyes,” he says and starts running his hand up higher.

I don't know what to say, so I say nothing, but when the waitress comes back, he pulls his hand from my thigh. I can still feel it there, a ghost of it just about halfway up my leg, and I wish it had gone higher. It gives me confidence, and I order my Tom Yum soup without any reservations or trying to eat like a bird in front of him. Duncan orders a big plate of Pad Thai, giving me a grin. "We can share if it's more than I can handle, right?"

"I doubt there are many things you can't handle . . . if you put your mind to it," I reply, and I’m surprised that I’m flirting back with him as he reads the meaning of my words.

"That's more like it. You know, when you first started working with me, you were the first person outside the coaches to get in my face and not back down around campus. At least, I can't think of the last time someone called me a lazy bastard without catching a helmet in the teeth."

"It worked, didn't it?" I laugh, sipping at my water. "You know, you surprise me."

“How’s that?”

"Well, you have this public image—this cocky asshole, no offense, that is Duncan Hart. The guy who rocks the tatts, the motorcycle, the trash talker, on and off the field. That guy, by the way, I would never have accepted an invitation to dinner with."

"Yet you're here with me now," Duncan says, setting down the fork that he's twirling point-first on the tabletop.

"Because there's another Duncan Hart, I suspect," I say. "The guy who didn't go off like a child when I needled him during workouts, but just bore down and pushed harder. The guy who asked and listened when we were in the library yesterday. The guy who is taking management courses because he doesn't want to be just a dumb jock."