I was a little breathless when I concluded and withdrew my fingers from his, leaving the phone in his hand; I tried to look everywhere but at him and his damn tenebrous blue eyes.
He placed the phone in my hand once again. “As much as the idea of collaring and leashing you sounds promising, the purpose of the phone is to ensure you’re reachable-”
I interrupted him, “You mean bound and restrained-”
“Janie, if I wanted to restrain you I’d use rope.” When he spoke his voice was low and softened with what could only be described as intimacy.
I met his gaze abruptly, startled by his tone; however, if his tone surprised me, then his gaze struck me momentarily mute. He’d shifted closer, towering over me so I had to tilt my head back to meet his stare, his mouth curved into a whisper of a smile which felt more menacing than a scowl. I blinked under the scalding stare and leaned one elbow against the counter at my side for balance.
I felt heat rise up my throat and over my cheeks as I frowned at him; “I know what you’re doing.” My own annoyance bolstered my confidence.
He lifted a single eyebrow and leaned against the counter, mimicking my stance, “And what’s that?”
“You’re teasing me again, like yesterday; you’re trying to distract me.” I placed the phone on the counter.
“I’m not trying to distract you.” His eyes traveled slowly over my face.
I gritted my teeth, trying force my blush under control and the beating of my heart- stupid heart; “Yes you are, and it won’t work.”
His smile grew, still just a small curve; his gaze continued its searing yet leisurely perusal of my features. “And why not?”
Recovering my voice but not entirely control of my brain, I started talking without really paying attention to my words, “Because they don’t use ropes, they use nets. They track the Orcas between Alaska and the Hawaiian islands to establish migration paths, mating patterns, and birth rates. It’s actually fascinating; did you know most male Killer Whales raised in captivity- about 60-90%- experience dorsal fin collapse.”
“Really. How interesting. What is that?” His voice was deadpan but he was still giving me that danger-smile.
I took a step backward. “Dorsal fin collapse. It’s where the dorsal fin- you know, the usually stiff fin on their back- droops to the side and they can’t get it up. Scientists think it’s because, in captivity, the males can’t get adequate depth, in the water, and so their fin droops. Which is why I don’t want a cell phone. I don’t want a droopy fin.”
The purposeful languorous caress of Quinn’s gaze ended abruptly as did his smile; he met my eyes and blinked at me like I’d said something completely crazy or horrifying. Quinn shook his head and glanced away, presumably to clear his thoughts of a troubling thought.
“Look,” he almost growled, picking up the phone from the counter and smacking it back into my palm once more; he quickly crossed his arms over his chest, his hands balling into fists, “you’re going to carry that phone.” his tone left little room for argument even as he made concessions, his characteristic up-to-no-good stare slipped back into place; “You don’t have to look at it, you just have to answer it when it rings. No one will text you, I promise. And, if they do, you can ignore the messages. Use it just like a landline- in fact, you can use it for personal calls if you want.” If possible, he looked even more preoccupied and detached than usual.
“But you can still use it to track my whereabouts, I’ll still be-” I swallowed hard as my hand closed around the stupid smart phone, accepting my fate, “I’ll still get a droopy fin. Do you want me to have a droopy fin? …Couldn’t you tell Carlos it was a bad idea? Tell him you made a mistake, he might listen to you.”
His eyes moved down to my neck, lingered there. Then he said, “Do you know what your problem is?”
His question made me frown, insta-glower actually, and I instinctively crossed my arms over my chest, “I have a problem?”
“Yes. You have a problem.” He lifted his piercing blue gaze to my glowering frown and I was somewhat stunned to see that he didn’t look agitated any longer; he looked intent, determined. It aggravated me.
Without thinking I said, “Oh, really? I can’t wait to hear what my problem is. You’ve known me a total of three weeks and you’ve already diagnosed the problem. The suspense is killing me. Well, please enlighten me oh great identifier of problems.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I suppressed a gasp by gulping hard. The level of my annoyance-fueled sarcasm was reaching critical mass and I couldn’t seem to control it.