Jaimie: Fire and Ice (The Wilde Sisters 2)
Page 98
“Damn right,” he said, but so tenderly that she could have sworn she felt her heart turn over.
“Are we talking about chick flicks?” she said, moving closer to him. She put her hands on his chest, ran them down over those hard, amazing muscles. Are you telling me you watch them?”
He blushed. It was an incredible sight. That oh-so-masculine face, those cheekbones that looked as if they’d been carved out of stone, suddenly striped with red.
“No! Of course not. I do not watch—”
“What you’re telling me is that you want to pick out the bras and panties you’re going to take off me an hour later?”
“An hour’s too long,” Zach said with a lazy smile, “but yeah, that’s the idea.”
“I have never let anyone buy my clothes for me.”
“Well, I get that. But—”
“I make a pretty good living.” She sighed. “Or, I did until I gave up a nice, steady 9-to-5 for selling real estate.”
“I thought you said real estate was safe.”
“I said it involved numbers. And that isn’t the point. I am not a woman who lets men buy her things.”
“You let me buy you pizza,” he said, with a straight face.
Jaimie nodded. He couldn’t read her expression at all—until she giggled.
“Pizza and lingerie. What a combination.”
“Extra cheese,” he said gruffly, “and extra lace.”
* * * *
They drove to the Georgetown campus. Zach stopped beside the first student they saw.
“Dude? How’d you like a pizza?”
The kid looked suspicious. Jaimie could hardly blame him. She put down her window and leaned out.
“We ordered a pizza. Turns out my boyfriend can’t eat it. He’s allergic to pepperoni and they put pepperoni on it.”
“Really?”
“Really. You want it, it’s
yours.”
They drove away pizza-less.
Zach reached for Jaimie’s hand. He couldn’t recall ever being called someone’s boyfriend. In high school, boyfriends had been guys with letters on their jackets and their own cars. In the Corps, there hadn’t been time for relationships that lasted more than a night or maybe a couple of days, and once he was in Special Ops and The Agency, the idea of a woman waiting for him had never entered his head. His life was too uncertain, too risky.
Too free.
His life was still like that. By now, it was part of what and who he was—and yet, hearing that old-fashioned word from Jaimie made him feel good.
Crazy, of course.
He liked her. He enjoyed being with her, but…
But, what about that stuff he’d told her a little while ago? About something happening between them. What had made him say such a thing or even think it?