She’d had boyfriends. Some even knew how to make her hum. But to be so caught up in the passion of it all that she felt out of control? Thirty thousand feet without a chute out of control?
Sadly, no.
She had serious doubts that she’d ever elicited those kinds of feelings in her partners either.
“Well,” he continued, “I was a little slow in learning that the rush isn’t always worth the repercussions, and the only thing thirty thousand feet without a chute can get you is dead. So I’m changing, because I want this promotion. I need it.”
“I believe you.” She just didn’t understand why. She didn’t think he did either. But being sworn in as a lieutenant seemed to represent more than a promotion to him. It was a defining moment of some kind.
“But I still confuse you,” he said. If anything, that seemed to make him more frustrated than the thought of not getting the promotion.
“One minute I think you’re an overgrown frat boy,” she said softly, “but then you do something incredibly selfless and sweet and . . . you surprise me.”
“I’m not sweet, sunshine,” he said, cupping her face, “and very little of what I do is selfless.”
“You brought me my favorite cookies.”
“Because I needed to figure out why I was being shafted by every single woman in town.”
“You were sweet enough to ask what my favorite was. And you didn’t out me in front of Clay for lying, when you had every right to.”
“I wanted to kiss you.”
“You put your life on the line every day,” she said, and he gave an all in a day’s work shrug, but she saw the tips of his ears pinken. “You love to make people laugh, but when it really matters you do the right thing, always. Even when it’s hard. You’re loyal and protective of those you care about, which is why you took the blame for the rookie crashing the engine.”
He stilled. “How do you know about that?”
“I’m the oracle,” she joked, not wanting to rat out Emerson, who’d mentioned Adam was with Dax at Stan’s Soup and Service at the time of the accident. “I know everything and I know that hiding beneath that reputation”—she poked his pec—“is a sweet man.”
One who wanted to make amends for his past and build himself a better future. One who was determined to move forward, no matter how hard. From what, she wasn’t sure. But it impressed her almost as much as it turned her on.
He turned her on. Made her want to ditch the chute and free-fall. Heck, the way he was looking at her, as though her thinking him sweet made his day, made her want lots of things. A kiss for starters, which would lead to another, then another, then the dressing room and that rush she couldn’t stop thinking about.
Her stomach was already in a free fall, and her heart wasn’t too far behind, which was why her head was yelling to pull the ripcord before she got hurt.
Harper straightened, enough so she didn’t feel as if he were surrounding her. “And when a lady pays you a compliment you’re supposed to say thank you, then walk away to keep her guessing.” Still being sucked into his vortex of charm, she stood. “As for your day versus mine, you win, but you have to admit that my introducing Liza to the alluring powers of Honeysuckle for her date with Clay is a close second.”
“Clay doesn’t deserve to see your allure,” he said, his gaze lowering over her body until her nipples went hard. “But I do. A deal is a deal.”
Harper looked down at herself and saw casual—uninspired in her flip-flops, jean cutoffs, and a strategically picked tribal shirt. Sure she’d added some lip gloss and a few swipes of mascara before she’d texted him back, but that didn’t warrant the hunger she saw on his face.
“I’m not wearing anything sexy under here,” she lied. Beneath the crazy artist look, she was wearing nothing but lace and silk—enough to do her own lingerie shoot.
“Did you know that when you lie your eyes go all misty as if you think you’re killing unicorns?” He tsked softly, standing to face her. “And there you go, misreading signals again. It wasn’t the bra and panties that got me the first night.” He was looking at her mouth again. “It was you. And you deserve a man who can see that.”
He took the tumbler, then backed her into a side table, setting the glass down. Without a word he framed her face between his big, rough hands and pressed their bodies close. So close she had to place her hands on his chest for balance.
Which only made things worse, because his body was solid and unforgiving, nothing soft or vulnerable to grab on to. Yet, he was holding her with a gentleness that stole her breath.