Obviously seeing the heat in his eyes, Rain leaned back in her chair as if to distance herself from it. “Seriously? I can’t even use that word without it turning you on?”
“Considering the sight of your mouth wrapping around that word makes me picture said mouth wrapped around something else, then no . . . Unless we’re somewhere I can do something about my hard-on, then please don’t say that word.”
Her eyes widened at his brutal honesty before her gaze flew around the room. When it came back to him she looked annoyed. “You can’t speak like that in public. Someone might have heard you.”
“Coming from the woman who just used the word ‘fuck’ in relation to the actual act.”
She stared at him a moment and then huffed, “Fair enough.”
Craig chuckled, amused at his inability to pretend mere friendship with this woman. “The whole friends thing isn’t working out quite as planned.”
Rain smirked, amusement gleaming from those gorgeous big dark eyes of hers. “No, it’s not. Which is why I thought it was a bad idea to begin with.”
“It’s not a bad idea. According to my mother the secret to a long-lasting relationship is friendship and passion. My ears were practically bleeding at the time she was going on about it,” he joked, “but now I think those were wise words. So friendship? Not a bad idea. Pretending this could be just a friendship? Bad idea.”
“Craig . . .” Rain lowered her gaze to her cup. “I told you I can’t.”
“Will you try the friendship part at least if I promise to leave the other stuff out of it? At the moment,” he added.
“Why are you so determined?” She leaned forward, desperation in her eyes that at once made him want to protect her, but also made him want to howl with satisfaction. She wouldn’t be feeling desperate if she didn’t feel something for him. Something she didn’t want to feel, but she felt nonetheless.
Shit. When he finally met a woman he actually wanted around in the morning he had to go and choose one as complicated as bloody Rain Alexander.
“Is it because you want to sleep with me and haven’t yet?”
Irritation coursed through him like a whiplash. “No, it isn’t, and it’s an insult to both of us to suggest otherwise.”
She glowered at him. “You can’t get angry at me for jumping to that conclusion, Craig. You are the biggest flirt I’ve ever met and you tried to get into my knickers the first night we met.”
“Well now I’m trying to get to know you.” He threw back the last of his coffee, attempting to quell his exasperation. “And if you weren’t so goddamn stubborn you’d just let me.”
“Why?”
“Because I like being around you,” he admitted.
That seemed to take the wind out of her sails. Rain slumped in her seat. “You like being around me?”
“Yes. For some crazy reason I do.”
Her lush mouth curled up at the corners at his teasing remark. Their gazes held for what felt like forever, the coffeehouse disappearing around them, until the world consisted of just them.
“Okay,” Rain finally said, the word soft, “let’s get to know one another better.”
Relief, more relief than he’d ever expected to feel, rushed through him. “Does that mean you’ll take that stroll with me?”
She finished her tea, grabbed her purse from the back of her chair, and stood up. “Where are we strolling?”
* * *
They walked at a leisurely pace toward the Royal Mile and wandered along it, talking and stopping occasionally to look at street art and a couple of stalls set up for the tourists. While they walked, they talked, and they pretty much covered everything from food to music to politics to business to family and so on.
They’d strolled up along George IV Bridge and toward the university, which they were now bypassing as they headed toward The Meadows.
“I can’t believe you actually think The Clash are rubbish.” Craig stared at her aghast.
“I can’t believe you think that’s music.” She huffed.
“And Dinah Shore is music?”
“Yes,” she said adamantly. “Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra, Glenn Miller, Nat King Cole, Evelyn Knight. That’s music.”
“Do you like anything outside of the 1940s?” he teased.
“Yes.” She mock scowled at him. “The Beatles. Amy Winehouse. Oasis. Adele. The Killers. Lana Del Rey.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all I can think of right now.”
“So what’s wrong with The Clash?”
Rain wrinkled her nose, making him want to kiss it. “It’s not just The Clash. It’s all British punk rock. It makes my ears bleed.” She shot him a speculative look. “I never would have taken you for a punk rock fan.”