"Not even a little bit," he said, motioning for her to continue.
She picked at the hem of her dress, her brows burrowed into a deep frown. "Dad's good at forcing people to do what he wants. It's one of the reasons I want to make this business work. If I make my own money I can do what I like. I never really wanted to be a doctor."
"What did you want to be?"
"You know, I have no idea. I poured so much energy into trying to please him I never thought about what I actually wanted. Then by the time I decided I wanted to do my own thing I had no idea which direction to take."
"It's not too late, you're still young."
"So are you," she pointed out.
He shrugged. "I'll be fine so long as I can get the family off my back."
"They don't seem that bad."
"It's more the extended family. They're old school, they think anyone who doesn't have a degree or some form of qualification is going to be a loser their whole life." He leaned back against the couch, reducing the space between them. "I don't care, I do what I like."
"Obviously you do care, since I'm playing the role of happy girlfriend." She paused. "Unless there's more to the situation than you're telling me."
"I'm helping you out."
She grinned, like a cat who'd caught the scent of a mouse. "Nah, there needs to be something in it for you. It's not just judgment from your family, is it? Who's going to be at the wedding that you're so worried about?"
He clenched his teeth, his jaw tightening until the muscles ached. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Okay." She held up her hands in retreat. "I just thought since I poured my heart out to you that you might want to reciprocate."
"There's no point talking about it. It doesn't change the situation." He needed to change the topic, stat. "Actually, I had an idea that I wanted to discuss with you."
She raised a brow. "Sure."
"I want to start up my own mixology school at First."
He sucked in a breath, annoyed at how nervous he was about sharing it with Libby. The idea had come to him like a bolt of lightning when one of the new waitresses had asked him to show her how to make a cosmopolitan. He suspected the request was a ploy to talk to him, but after he'd started teaching her about the proper way to mix cocktails she'd seemed genuinely excited to try it on her own.
"We could run classes on how to create professional cocktails at home or for parties, teach people the theory behind mixing the perfect drink. Since you're trying to get your product in there, we could pitch it as a branding partnership." He tried to keep his face neutral, but waiting for her reaction was killing him.
"I love it!" She clapped her hands together and laughed. "It's perfect. It will make my product look more attractive, and I could include some promotional gifts as an incentive to customers … and Des."
The genuine excitement on her face made his blood rush. Ideas for how they could pitch the mixology school to his brother came tumbling out, their energy and creativity matched. Eventually, when the well ran dry, Libby motioned for him to follow her into the living room.
"By the way, I wanted to say thanks for getting my dad out of here earlier. Whatever you said seemed to have worked, but you don't have to play white knight."
"It's nothing. I've been the bouncer at First on more than one occasion." He shrugged it off, but deep down her thanks warmed him.
"Oh yeah?" She smiled, the white dress swishing around her knees as she walked.
The straps were like two thin strands of spaghetti, leaving most of her shoulders and chest bare. A hint of cleavage tempted him, the creamy expanse of her skin dotted with a few freckles. He wanted to connect them by drawing lines with his tongue.
"I've kicked out a fair share of drunks, broke up a few fights. It can get a little crazy on a Friday night."
"But there must be perks … I bet you have your pick of the ladies." She dropped down onto the sofa and kicked off her heels, crossing her legs demurely.
"Why? Do you think I'm hot?" he teased.
Her cheeks flushed, and she tried to cover it by pressing her water bottle to her neck. The air hung heavy with summer heat, despite the churn of an air conditioning unit overhead. Condensation from the bottle dripped onto her skin. A lone droplet ran down the length of her neck and made a beeline for the sweet valley between her breasts.
"No comment," she said, fanning herself.
He took the spot next to her on the couch. "So you felt absolutely nothing when you kissed me?"
"You kissed me." She gestured with her water bottle. "I was happy to play the polite, conservative girlfriend."
"They would never have bought it. I don't go for conservative types."
"So you prefer med school dropouts with a penchant for expensive shoes?" She lifted her hair from her neck and wound it into a knot on top of her head.
"That's quite a niche." He tilted his head, watching her closely. "There hasn't really been anyone in a while, to be honest."
"How come?"
He shrugged, pushing his fingers through the inky black curls on his head. "I don't want to be in a relationship, but the dating scene got old. Too many games for me."
Nodding, she secured her hair with a hair band from her pocket. Wispy sections escaped around her face, framing those sharp hazel eyes and her perfectly pale skin. "I know what you mean. I haven't dated anyone in … forever. But I didn't really like the idea of constantly jumping from one guy to another, so I stopped altogether."
"Relationships aren't a very good alternative, though."
"I can see why so many people do the friends with benefits thing. You just take a good personal connection and add sex, but there's no emotion. No messy stuff."
"There's some messy stuff." He chuckled and she rolled her eyes.
"You're such a guy."
"I try."
"So are you going to find a new place?"
She looked as though she might call him on turning the tables on her, but she didn't. "I should but that would require me to be making some money of my own. I sank a lot of what I had into the business. I didn't want to be saddled with a loan so I used my savings. I don't have enough for a deposit on a new place."
"I will do everything I can to make sure you get into First and get your business off the ground." The words slipped out before he could think to stop them. "You know, since that's what a boyfriend would do."
"I appreciate that. But you know you don't have to play boyfriend if we don't have an audience, right?"
"Why? Don't think you can handle me if it's just the two of us?"
She shifted on the spot. "I didn't say that."
"Are you worried you wouldn't be able to say no to me?" A surge of desire flooded him as she blinked, her cheeks flushed. "Just like you melted into a puddle when I kissed you."
"I can say no to you, Mr. Cocky." She jabbed a finger into his chest. "You're not God's gift to women, you know."
"I've been told things to the contrary." He grinned, enjoying putting her on the spot. It was like the adult equivalent of tugging her pigtails.
"You're far more tempted by me than I am by you." She shoved her chin up into the air and looked him square in the eye.
"Is that so?" God damn if he didn't love a challenge.
"Yep." She nodded, spurred on by her own false bravado. "You came up with the excuse to kiss me in the kitchen, and you're the one who turned up today out of the blue."
"You say that like you haven't been debating whether to call me all week."
"I haven't." She blinked rapidly.
"I'm sorry, you'll need to start speaking English again. I don't understand bullshit."
Her mouth formed a shocked O, and she shoved him in the shoulder. "You're so unbelievably cocky."
"You love it."
"I definitely do not."
An impulse shot through him, the desire to do something totally wrong and stupid and oh-so-worth-it. "We're going to settle this with a game of chicken."
"Chicken?"
He nodded, raking his eyes over her so she knew exactly how much trouble she was in. "I'm going to kiss you for a whole minute, and you're going to tell me to stop when the timer goes off."
She raised a brow. "You can't be serious."
"I'm one hundred percent serious." He pulled the phone out of his pocket and opened up the stopwatch app. "One minute. Then you can put me in my place."
"No way."
"Think you're going to lose?"
Her hazel eyes sparked. If there was one thing he'd learned-and deeply enjoyed-about Libby, it was her competitive streak.
She took a swig of her water bottle as if she didn't have a care in the world. "I never lose."