“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not your type.” And she wasn’t, so that funny little flutter in her stomach could just shut up. If nothing else, this experiment had taught her that she really needed to get out more. There was no way this arrogant jerk should have her all twisted inside.
They exited the elevator into the lobby and headed onto the sidewalk. The air was cool enough for the sun to feel good, so she tipped back her face and briefly basked in it, only to catch Sawyer staring at her. “What?” she asked.
“You’re pretty when you smile.”
“Thank you.” She paused, then shot him another look. He’d caught her off guard with his seemingly honest compliment, but he was a player, no doubt playing his game as a reflex. “You do realize this is about you giving me tips on attracting a man, and not about you trying to attract me?”
“I’m not trying, sweetheart. But now that you mention it”—he snagged her elbow and gently pulled her out of the flow of sidewalk traffic, Marmaduke trotting behind—“part of attracting a guy is having confidence.” As he spoke, he maneuvered her against the wall, propping his coffee-holding arm beside her and leaning treacherously close until she could feel the heat of his skin.
“Lesson number one,” he said. “There’s not a man alive who won’t fall over himself to get to a woman with confidence, but you’ve got to believe in yourself. The sexier you feel, the more attractive you’ll be. I bet if you…unburied yourself from those mounds of clothes you wear, you wouldn’t need me at all.”
Stunned, she twisted her head to look at him. Big mistake. Green eyes studied her with a ferocity that made no sense, considering the lazy sprawl of the grin that overtook his lips.
“I’m not taking off my clothes,” she managed. Barely. “But nice try. And next time, do us both a favor and spare the theatrics.” Despite her irritation with him, her heart stuttered in her chest, the busy New York street a mere backdrop to the sudden intimacy of his whispered oath. His clean scent enveloped her, lingering with that of the coffee to dull everything that wasn’t pegged on him.
“Let me make one thing clear,” he said softly. Intently. “Theatrics aren’t my thing. I don’t bullshit. If I say a woman is sexy, it’s because I mean it. And if I say I want her, I mean that, too.” He paused, giving a passing glance to Marmaduke, who was in a fierce tug-of-war with Sawyer’s shoestring. The string appeared to be winning. “And make no mistake, sweetheart. Should you ever bring yourself to admit out loud that you want me to fuck you, assuming I’m not otherwise occupied, you damn well better brace yourself.”
It was a good thing she had the wall at her back. She needed it. His words, a thinly veiled seduction, tore at her defenses. It had been too long since anything had.
But if he thought she’d fall for his playboy games, he’d better think again.
“I have a better idea,” she said sweetly. “How about I save the trouble of all that bracing, and you go fuck yourself instead?”
Chapter Three
Sawyer stared, jaw tight, as Kelsie sashayed her tight little ass down the sidewalk, the rat trotting happily behind her. Neither of them spared a backward glance. Either he was losing his touch or…or anything else. Had to be the alternative, whatever that was, because he was definitely not losing his touch.
And he clearly didn’t need to teach her the finer points of playing hard to get. She had that nailed. Only he had the worst feeling she wasn’t playing. She actually didn’t want him. He wondered how much time would pass before she caught on to that irony. Here he was, a man she had no problem resisting, teaching her the finer points of becoming irresistible to the opposite sex. Unacceptable.
Game on.
The greater paradox, however, was that her watered-down clothing the night before had revealed a nice body, and behind those glasses, she had amazing eyes. When she slipped up and a little sun broke through that perpetual glare of hers, she really was pretty. He was even more struck by the fact when he realized her valiant attempts to hide it weren’t successful. He couldn’t say he’d ever noticed a woman who made a point of going unnoticed, but he definitely noticed her.
She shot him a look over her shoulder. “You coming?”
She’d paused with her question, so he took his sweet time sauntering her way. “Lesson number two,” he said when he neared her. “If a guy was content to fuck himself, he wouldn’t be the least bit inclined to put up with womenfolk.”
Her eyes widened. The rat stood at her feet, doing that shaky, bug-eyed thing. Why the hell did those little dogs always have to shake like that? “Did you just say ‘womenfolk’?” she asked. “No one says ‘womenfolk’.”
“I said ‘womenfolk.’ Lesson number three—” He broke off when the dog growled. “Why does Minidick hate me so much?”
Her lips curved into a barely suppressed grin. “Marmaduke. And I don’t know. He’s never disliked anyone before.”
“He’s probably picking up on your distaste,” Sawyer said. He immediately wondered if she’d agree, and how readily. And why it mattered. Because you can’t teach her the art of attracting a man when she hates you, that’s why. Yep, that was it. Absolutely nothing to do with wounded pride.
Her rich chocolate gaze met his head-on. “I don’t…distaste you.”
“Aw, come on. We’ll have to do better than that.” He snagged her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, and kept walking. She tried pulling back, but he held firm.
“What are you doing?”
He turned, just as a crisp burst of air blew her hair, making her look like she’d just stepped out of a fucking Free People catalog. He’d never been so attracted to someone so natural. Or maybe he’d just never seen anyone who didn’t go out of her way to be seen, but either way, she took his breath. “Holding your hand.”
The breeze carried with it the vanilla scent of her shampoo. Her eyes flashed with irritation. “I told you, this isn’t about you and me.”
“Relax, woman.” He squeezed her hand, knowing it would probably annoy her more. “This is all part of my lesson. Loosen up a little. Make your dog not hate me.”
“What difference does it make if my dog hates you?”
He shrugged. “Men don’t like drama.” Understatement of the century. Which really made him wonder why he’d gotten himself involved with her. His whole life, he’d managed to avoid emotional entanglements, and now he’d committed to an unprecedented seven dates with a woman who wanted a long-term relationship. The only good thing was that she’d made it clear he’d never be that man, so at least they didn’t have any misconceptions between them.
Her eyes narrowed. “So my dog hates you, and that makes me drama?”
He laughed. “Tension equals drama. If you’re so tense that your dog is glaring at me, you’re going to have a hard time getting the right kind of attention.”
“And you holding my hand fixes this how?”
“If your dog thinks you like me, he might stop snarling. Besides, if you can tolerate me touching you without getting your panties in a knot, then you can relax under any circumstances. And you really need to relax.”
She laughed, albeit stiffly. “You’re right.”
“And if nothing else, you’ll enjoy a palpable sense of relief when I let go, so it’s a total win-win.”
Her shoulders relaxed a notch. “Just let go before we get to the park, okay? I don’t want anyone thinking I’m…taken.”
“Absolutely no one would think that,” he said, mainly because he certainly wouldn’t.
She still watched him as they walked, so he’d braced himself for an argument when she said, “You don’t like dogs, do you?”
He took a sip of his coffee before he answered. “Your dog spent all of my visit last night gnawing on my ankle.”
Her mouth fell open. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I figured if you feed him like you did me, he might be due a good meal.”
She glared.
He laughed and gestured
ahead, where the trees of Cadman Plaza Park crowded the view. “Hey, I knew where the dog park was, didn’t I?”
Her eyes narrowed. “You Googled it.”
“Guilty. But that doesn’t mean I don’t like dogs. And you can’t say I didn’t think ahead. This one is off leash,” he said of the dog area at the Brooklyn War Memorial. “Much easier to bump into someone that way.”
“That’s so contrived.”
“And that’s why you don’t have a date.” He bumped her shoulder and dropped her hand. “Relax. This is nothing. We are fully clothed and in the same very crowded, very public space. We might as well be standing next to each other in the grocery store. So what kind of guy are you looking for?”
“One who cleans up well and has a handle on proper language usage.”
“That’s it?”
She threw her arms wide, nearly smacking him in the face. “That’s impossible.”
He took a half step away from her—probably her plan all along—and took a sip of his coffee, which by then was almost cold. “That can’t be it.”
She shoved her leash hand in her back pocket, again drawing his attention to her ass, or what little bit of it was visible beneath the hem of that sweater. She’d probably hate that, which only served to amuse him. “My sister is getting married on a yacht in New York Harbor exactly two weeks from today. I cannot afford to be any more discriminating than that.”
“The wedding is on a boat?” The mere mention of a boat summoned all of his nopes. He hated boats. Hated water. A swimming pool full of bikini-clad women, he could handle. But anything bigger? Not even if his life depended on it. It was a good thing she didn’t like him. That way she wouldn’t expect him to be her date… And just in case, he mentally redoubled his efforts to get her someone else.
“Yes. Probably the most romantic thing ever, and I refuse to go alone.”
She thought boats were romantic? “I thought that was because of your ex.”
“It is, but it’s also my dream wedding.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “I love my sister to death, but I swear the only reason she picked that setting is because I once confided in her how perfect it would be. Being dumped for being boring is humiliating enough. Not being able to get a date—and having him witness that—is pretty much the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Some tough life you’ve had there,” he said dryly.
“I’m exaggerating,” she said, “but not when I say I’ve actually considered hiring an escort. As a matter of fact, I should do that. Then we can forget this whole thing.”
He almost dropped his coffee. If she thought going alone would be more humiliating than hiring a stranger to play the part, she was crazy. “I thought you said you wanted a long-term relationship. How long do you plan to keep an escort on payroll?”
She came to a halt. “You don’t want me to like you, do you?”
“All I’m saying is the only way you’re going to find a long-term relationship is by finding someone who doesn’t demand payment to keep you company. And for that matter, it sounds like you need to work on you before you try to partner up for a lifetime commitment.”
“What the heck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you need to be your own person first.” He hesitated over his unfortunate choice of words. She clearly had that own person thing down. In fact, she could stand to follow the crowd a little, but if he told her that, she’d probably sic her rat on him. “So what if you go alone? Do you really want to be clinging to some other guy—a paid stranger, at that—when you see your ex? Or do you want to be badass, screw you, standing tall on your own?”
“He said I was boring.”
“You show up by yourself looking ten kinds of hot, and I guarantee you’ll be the most interesting person there.” She wouldn’t wear that scarf with a bridesmaid dress…would she? Not that the scarf itself was so bad. It was the injustice of leaving her shapeless. He’d never realized how sexy and feminine a neck was until she’d hidden hers.
She sighed. “You don’t understand. But how could you? This goes beyond superficial.”
“Actually, your problem is exactly superficial.” So much for not going there, even if he wasn’t talking about her wardrobe.
His comment earned another death glare.
“You’re worried about how it all looks, sweetheart. Doesn’t get more superficial than that.” Before she killed him, for good measure he added, “Remember what I said about tension.” They’d reached the expanse of green lawn that fronted the memorial. The early morning sun bathed her in the prettiest light. If only she’d chill the fuck out, she’d be able to snag a guy on her own, no problem. A little bit of relaxation on her part would go a long way. “Anyone catch your eye?”
“You make it sound like I’m at the pound picking up a stray.”
“Not until someone starts humping your leg.”
“Someone?” She glared and pushed back the glasses that had inched down her nose. “Don’t you mean a dog?”
“Dogs are people, too,” he said. “But no, I pretty much meant some douche of a guy.”
“Have I thanked you yet?” she muttered. She knelt to unleash the rodent, who ran a quick, yippy circle before lifting his leg on Sawyer.
“Oh, hell no.” He sidestepped before damage could happen, while Kelsie laughed.
The sound took his breath away. He stared.
She stopped laughing. “What?”
“That,” he said, “is how you attract a man. Do you have any idea how much less scary you are when you’re not spazzing out?”
She turned red. “I want a guy who’s interested in more than…my physical appearance.”
“Unless you’re going to walk around showing off your brain, I’m afraid you’re going to have to oblige us otherwise. At least at first. The good news is if you relax a little and give us all a chance, there’s not a man alive who wouldn’t want to look below your surface.”
“Except you.”
The question caused an unexpected pang, but he shook it off. “Make no mistake, sweetheart.” He tugged at the hem of her sweater. “I’m more than willing to peel back a layer or two.”
“See? Pig.” She spun, but he caught her arm. She glared, and he wondered if she was even more uptight than he’d originally thought. He kept that possibility close, because by the look of her, forgetting it might cost him a kneecap. Or a nut.
He settled for defusing her. “That thing you just did where you looked at me through your lashes? Guys like that. Gives ’em hope.”
“I was not looking at you with any sort of admiration whatsoever.”
“Not admiration. Passion.”
“Because,” she said through gritted teeth, “I passionately want to put my knee in your special place.”
“You can play with my special place later. For now, eye contact will have to be enough.”
She glowered.
“Did I forget to mention the part where you smile?”
She smiled so sweetly that he began to fear for his special place. “Like this?”
He swallowed. “Yeah, like that. If you touch him, you make it a trifecta.”
“So you do want my knee—”
“Not that kind of touch,” he said. He pushed back a windblown strand of her hair and found a great deal of satisfaction in the way her eyes drifted shut when his fingertips traced her skin. He took advantage of her momentary lowering of the guard to loosen the scarf, revealing a very sexy neck—one he really shouldn’t have noticed, all things considered. And because she hadn’t yet put him on the ground, he gave in to the urge to see beyond those damned glasses. Her eyes flew wide when he removed the frames, but softened in response to his smile. “Like that.”
“That’s actually pretty nice,” she said. “But now I’m blind. And if a random guy touched me with so much familiarity, I’d freak out.”
“Shocking,” he said dryly. “So don’t show your neck to random guys. Show the ones who interest you
.”
She narrowed her eyes and snatched her glasses from him, but she didn’t put them back on. “Is this sarcasm?”
“If you think you need to stay hidden from the chin down, then no.” He bit back his bemusement when her glare deepened. Then, since he was already in the proverbial doghouse, he tugged at her scarf, removing it entirely, and blissful inches of creamy skin appeared. Appreciation sluiced through him. “This is sexy—or would be if you weren’t looking at me like you wanted me dead—and it’s not the least bit pornographic. Loosen up. Literally.”
“Ah. So I just…” She took a step closer, leaving approximately no distance between them, and looked up at him. Her fingertips brushed his arm, then tracked to his abdomen, and toyed dangerously low. She still held the glasses, and all of a sudden, his mind flashed librarian porn. His dick snapped to attention, totally on board with the vision of her putting down some big, thick book to work him free, then dropping to her knees and—
She pinned another one of those suspiciously saccharine smiles on him. “Like this?”
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Was this the same woman who didn’t want to hold his hand because she’d look unavailable? One stiff breeze and they’d have a full-body-contact thing going on. “Yeah, like that.”
“And then if I’m really interested…” Her gaze dropped to his lips.
A whole new kind of awareness infiltrated the scant space between them, and he didn’t like it. He took a mental step back and tried to remember why he was there. Lessons. Yeah, that. He found his voice. “Eye contact. Remember that.” Something tugged at his pants, which were a touch misshapen in the groin. He looked down to see her dog at his feet. Sawyer wasn’t sure he’d ever moved. “Does this rodent not understand the concept of a dog park?”
“He’s small. He’s probably intimidated by the other dogs.”
“You don’t seem too concerned he’ll get eaten.”
“He won’t go far. And neither will I if I don’t get out there.” She took a step back, slid on her glasses, and wiped her free hand on her jeans before taking back her scarf. The other put a dent in her cardboard coffee cup.
For Seven Nights Only (Chase Brothers) Page 3