A Little Less Conversation (4 page)

“You look perfect,” he said with a wicked twist of his lips that she supposed could pass for a smile, if it didn’t look so damn carnal and sexy. The burning look of intensity in those soft green eyes almost convinced her of his honesty. But then she reminded herself that he was a natural born flirt. Yeah, that had to be it. Why else would the guy have confiscated her picture?

“Hey, there’s no pressure here. Really. We can just grab some Mexican food over on
Cazadora’s
patio, drink some Coronas, and then we can take a walk out on the beach and watch the sunset.”

“Um, okay, then,” she gave in with a grin, unable to resist that gentle urging in his warm green gaze, no matter how breathless she was with anticipation. And it was that air of expectation that had her worried, knowing she was getting worked up over something that was so
not
going to be an issue. He wanted to talk, for god’s sake, not ride her silly. And yeah, it might sound crude, damn it, but she wanted the ride. She wanted it all. Good conversation and heart-stopping sex, all wrapped up in the heady emotions of unquestionable trust and undying love.

Hey, it’s not like I’m asking for much
, she snickered silently to herself, wondering when she’d become so deranged. It wasn’t like she was a knockout who had men dragging their tongues around after her, and here she’d set her sights and emotions on the most undeniably sexy, funny, interesting hunk of stud meat that she’d ever laid eyes on.

“Oh god,” she groaned under her breath, “I’m starting to think like Kyra.”

“What’d you say, honey?”

“Um, just give me two seconds to change into my flats.” She reached down and slipped out of her heels, then grabbed her favorite pair of leather sandals from where she kept them stashed in her bottom desk drawer for walking to and from work, since her cute, new little beachfront apartment was just a few blocks away. Then she stood and came around the desk, throwing her purse over her shoulder.

When she stood just a foot or so away in her sandals, it became terribly obvious how he towered over her five-four frame. Hell, she barely came to his collarbone. He looked down at her, those sexy green eyes shining with humor, and tipped the edge of her chin up with his fist.

“I never really realized how petite you are,” he said in a low, intimate voice that seemed to curl around her shoulders like a lover’s hands, skimming over her fluttering pulse in the base of her throat, trailing up the tender side of her neck, “since we’ve never stood this close together before.”

She shook her head and tried to refocus. “You mean short,” she laughed, swallowing a knot of fierce, unleashed emotion at that smoldering look in his eyes. Man, this guy was good. He damn near had her buying the whole “you’re a sex goddess” look burning there in his glittering green gaze.

“Cute?” he ventured with that boyish twist of his lips that melted her deep down inside, where it counted.

“You’re not helping yourself.” Melanie shook her head slowly from side to side, while a warm glow burned in her chest, radiating out in an exhilarating wash of breathless anticipation that tingled in her fingertips and toes.

“Then I’ll have to try harder and just admit that…”

His voice suddenly trailed off, leaving those last words unsaid as he continued to stare down at her, those carnal lips parted for the slow soughing of his breath.

“That what?” she prompted, feeling her own breath come more rapidly, heart beating out a heavy cadence of excitement. When he looked at her like that, she could almost believe that maybe he
was
looking for more than just a gal pal to talk to. Could almost imagine that she made him nervous—that he wanted to shatter that infuriating air of innocence hanging over her head and teach her a lesson in corruption that she’d been craving since setting eyes on him.

“What were you going to say, Mark?”

Staring up at him, Melanie knew she’d failed at disguising the longing in her voice, when his jaw tightened and his nostrils flared just that barest bit, like a predator scenting its mate.
Oh man, I wish!
she silently groaned. A warm rush of wet, slippery heat washed through her sex, and she struggled not to take the few steps forward that would bring her into burning contact with all that hard, hot, rippling muscle.

He twisted his mouth with resignation. “If I tell you the truth, I might scare you away before we’ve even cleared the door.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” she said with total honesty, tilting her face to the side as she studied him, wishing she could see inside his mind. “You might make me nervous, Mark, but you don’t scare me.”

He stepped closer, and the pulse in the base of her throat jumped. “In that case, I was going to say that I think I’m going to love the way you fit against me.”

“Oh,” she breathed out on a small laugh. Forget good. When it came to making a woman feel like she mattered, this man deserved a freaking medal. “And you thought that would scare me off?”

That green gaze narrowed at her expression, as if he’d like the chance to get inside her mind, too. “Trust me, I’m trying so hard to be good here, Mel, but it isn’t easy.”

“I don’t think you could actually be bad,” she drawled as a slow smile spread across her mouth.

A rough, male sound jerked in his throat. “Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

She pressed her tongue against her lower lip the way she did when she was nervous, and his eyes narrowed, following the action with such heat that she swore she could feel it spiraling down into her core, setting the secrets of her body to a low, molten burn of sharp, sizzling desire. She started to speak, but before she could respond to that leading statement, he cut her off, saying, “Let’s get the hell out of here before I make an ass of myself and prove just how bad I can be.”

He wanted to prove his outrageous claims? Man, now there was something she would love to see. With her tummy doing that funny little spiral thing again, she swallowed—all nerves and excitement. Twice. And then a third time. When she finally thought she could form a coherent sentence, Melanie murmured, “Just let me say bye to Kyra. She’s in the back.”

Chapter Three

A few minutes later, after a fast recount of what had just happened between her and Mark Logan, followed by some hilarious innuendos, eye-opening advice, and wishes for good luck from Kyra, Melanie finally joined Mark at the front door. She was still unable to believe that she was heading out on a date with the most gorgeous, virile, sinfully sexy man she’d ever known…and he wanted to “talk” to her instead of jumping her bones.

Gaack.

Plastering on her smile, she supposed she could only hope for the best and pray he’d be hit by an uncontrollable bolt of lust before the night was over.

“Kyra’s going to lock up for me. Oh, and she asked if you wouldn’t mind telling Cain to shove his smart-ass head into the beer cooler next time you see him.”

He rumbled with laughter, holding the door for her as she stepped out into the heavy heat of the late afternoon sun, and then moved to her side, one hand at the small of her back, guiding her through a tangle of tourists as they headed down the street to
Caza’s
.

The heat of his palm against her lower back was delicious, and Melanie almost moaned with regret when he pulled it away after they cleared the crowd. Seeking a subject to pull her horny thoughts away from the stud at her side, she asked, “Who’s watching your bar?”

“None other than my smart-ass brother,” he grinned. “What’s up with those two anyway?”

She rolled her eyes. “Cain and Kyra? I’m almost afraid to even hazard a guess.”

“I get the impression that they don’t get along.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda hard to miss, isn’t it?” she said with a wry laugh, catching at her flying hair to hook it behind her ears as the gusty wind whipped it around her face, the light silk of her skirt flapping frantically at her legs. “But I don’t know all the details. I’ll have to ask her. I didn’t even know they really knew each other.”

“Honey, in a town this size, everyone knows everyone.”

She shot him a grinning look. “Are we back to that ‘not being strangers’ thing?”

“I just hope that you don’t, you know, believe everything you might have heard about me,” he murmured in that deep, whiskey-rich voice that always made her blood race with sinful sensation. “I’ve lived in Foggy Bottom my entire life, so the gossips have had years to make meals out of me.”

Twin bright spots of color seemed to burn across the sexy arc of his cheekbones as she peeked at him from the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t stop the playful smile from teasing at her lips. “You mean…things specifically about
you
? Such as your, um, reputation?”

“Oh hell, I don’t even want to know what you’ve heard,” he muttered. His pale green eyes cut a sharp look at her, dark brows drawn together in a scowl. “Just don’t buy into any of it.”

“Hmm…so you think the rumors are, um, exaggerated?” she mused thoughtfully, striving for an angelic look. “I did have my doubts. I mean, when little ol’ Mrs. McGilley at the flower shop started going on about your incredible technique, and how long and strong and solid your—”

“She what?” he choked, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk with a stunned look of disbelief stamped across his rugged features. “
Mrs. McGilley?
”

“
Oak bar
is, I couldn’t believe that you’d actually carved the entire thing by hand,” she drawled with absolute innocence, turning back to him with a blank expression, though she was pretty damn sure her eyes were glittering with mischief.

“You little minx,” he growled playfully, shaking his dark head as he caught up to her. His green gaze narrowed, burning with a physical threat of retribution. “You did that on purpose.”

Melanie scrunched her nose at him, loving that mischievous grin curving the hard beauty of his mouth, more than ready to accept any form of so-called punishment he might decide to dole out, so long as it was centered around her pleasure. “Well, how could you blame me? It was too tempting to resist.”

“I’ll get you back, you know. And it’s only fair, since I haven’t been treated to any juicy gossip about you.”

Melanie rolled her eyes. “Oh, gee, thanks. Is that a polite way of saying that I’m an old stick-in-the-mud?”

A gruff sound of humor rumbled up from his chest. “No, that would be my way of saying that you’ve apparently been much better at being circumspect in your private life than I have.”

“Ah…and what on Earth am I supposed to say to that? If I try to defend myself, then I come off sounding like someone seeking the attention of the town busybodies. And if I don’t, then you’ll think I really
am
boring. It’s a catch-22 of the worst sort.”

“Melanie, honey, I don’t know how anyone could ever think you’re boring. You’ve made me laugh more in the past fifteen minutes than I have in the last fifteen years.”

She sent him a pained look as they neared the fresco-covered front of the restaurant, the patio already bustling with several large groups sipping frosty margaritas and soaking down ice-cold Coronas in the nearly stifling heat.

“I hate to have to be the one to enlighten you, Mark, but making a man laugh is only a compliment if you’ve purposefully set out to do so. Embarrassment doesn’t count,” she laughed, as he reached around her to push open the iron scrollwork gate that separated
Caza’s
patio from the sidewalk. His heat, so close to her body, was breathtaking, but before she could truly enjoy the heady sensation, a strong gust of wind threatened to blow up the back of her skirt and expose her panty-covered bum. Mel shrieked, twisting as she tried to catch the diaphanous length of flying material, only to have the gate slam shut, whacking her on the rear, and slamming her into the front of Mark’s hard, hot, impossibly yummy bod. For the span of a second, her lungs froze in shock, then sensation slowly began creeping back into her system and she realized two things at once. Mark Logan had an erection, and the palm of her hand was plastered against the heavy seam of his fly…his even heavier cock resting thickly behind the faded denim.

How it had happened, she wasn’t sure. One minute she’d been catching at her skirt, and the next thing she knew the gate had sent her reeling into him. Her hand must have turned to brace her fall…and
wham
, she found herself copping a feel of the most impressive hard-on she’d ever encountered. Not that she’d
encountered
all that many, dang it…but this one had to be legendary by any standard. And growing more remarkable by the moment.

Nibbling on the corner of her lip, she took a deep, Mark-filled breath, taking that intoxicating scent of male heat into her body, and slowly raised her eyes to his. The playful glint in his thick-lashed gaze instantly flared into a harsh, feral look of sexual promise, every long, muscled inch of his powerful body going utterly still at the accidental contact, and neither of them moved to pull away. He stared down at her, those light green eyes smoldering and mysterious, as if lit from within with a burning, brilliant flame. His nostrils flared, black brows brought together in a fierce look of…intent? The beautiful shape of his mouth compressed into a hard, uncompromising line while his chest moved with the rough cadence of his slow breathing. Her mind screamed for her hand to move, but her body refused to obey the command. Instead, her fingers formed an open fist, cradling him, and the fire in his gaze went impossibly brighter, even as his lids lowered and a deep, husky sound of hunger vibrated up from the depths of his chest.