“Mmmm. Pepperoni and mushroom pizza with extra cheese.” Her mouth watered just mentioning it. “You?”
“Anything Mexican, but if I had to pick only one thing, it would be a chile relleno.”
She made an ick sound and a face to go with it, even though he couldn’t see her expression. “I can’t stand those green chile peppers.”
“I’ll be sure not to kiss you after I’ve eaten one,” he promised, interjecting the comment so naturally, as if they’d already kissed a dozen times. Or he planned to, anyway. “What’s your favorite kind of music?”
“Country.”
“Mine’s rock.”
She shook her head at their different tastes. “Looks like we’re going to be fighting over radio stations on the drive to Santa Barbara.”
He chuckled. “Are you a dog or cat person?”
“Cat person.” Dogs made her nervous. “I had the sweetest cat growing up and I’m thinking of adopting one just to have some company when I’m home.”
He groaned in disappointment. “I hate cats. It’s a good thing that opposites attract, right?”
“Yes,” she agreed, though since they weren’t really dating, those things weren’t an issue.
“Now this question is really important,” he said, his serious tone grabbing her attention. “What kind of underwear do you prefer to wear?”
She was quiet for a few seconds, the flirty question making her squirm on the couch. She thought about the panties she liked best, bought more for comfort than seduction, and knew if she was honest with her reply, Eric was going to be extremely let down. “Are you sure that question is really necessary?” she asked, keeping her voice light and amused.
“Of course it is. As your boyfriend, I would know this,” he said playfully. “Wait. Let me guess.”
“Okay.” She waited for him to follow that up with a standard male response, like a thong or g-string.
“I think you’re all about comfort, but you like pretty, too,” he mused. “So, I’m going to go with soft white cotton panties trimmed in lace.”
She blinked in shock, wondering how he could have known. “I’m impressed. You’re right. Have you been in my lingerie drawer?”
He chuckled, the sound huskier now. “No, but I’m glad I was right. That’s the best kind of underwear on a woman.”
He was full of surprises, because in her experience, most men wanted to see the barely there panties. “How so?”
“The cotton makes them demure, the hint of lace makes them subtly sexy, so when they’re being pulled down a woman’s legs, it’s like unwrapping a sweet gift that ends up being really fucking hot.”
The last part came out as a sexy growl, and Evie’s entire body flooded with heat. Her nipples tightened and tingled, and between her legs . . . her neglected lady parts pulsed with an overwhelming desire and need. She could easily imagine him sliding her panties down her legs, his dark, hooded gaze brazenly staring at the treasure he revealed.
She swallowed hard. “Ahhh, I think we need to stop right there,” she said, before she spontaneously combusted from his words alone.
“Just for the record, I wear boxer briefs,” he offered casually, as if he hadn’t just left her completely breathless.
She groaned as an image of Eric in tight black boxer briefs and nothing else filled her mind. “I didn’t need to know that.” Because now, when she tried to fall asleep, that particular vision would undoubtedly keep her awake and very restless.
“Well, now you do,” he said, the wicked note to his voice letting her know he’d deliberately provoked her. “One last important question before I let you go. Are you a girl who likes sweet talk or dirty talk?”
She covered her face with her free hand, feeling it warm beneath her palm. “Why is that important?”
“It’s very important, because your boyfriend should know the best way to seduce you.”
God, he was killing her. Eric Miller might not be her legitimate boyfriend, but she wasn’t averse to the idea of him doing hot, decadent things to her. And because they weren’t face-to-face, she felt bold enough to admit the truth. “Well, not that I’ve had a whole lot of experience with this, but I’m not opposed to dirty talk.”
“Good answer, sweetheart.” His low, sexy voice made her shiver.
She bit her bottom lip and dared to ask, “Are you trying to seduce me?”
“Only if you want me to,” he said, leaving the possibility up to her. “Good night, Evie.”
“Night,” she whispered. She disconnected the call, but one crucial thought lingered. Did she want him to seduce her?
It was crazy because she hadn’t known him for very long, but their connection was strong, as was their attraction, and he was the perfect rebound guy after the way her ex had dumped her. She knew up front that they were a temporary item with an end date. She’d hired him for a weekend of the boyfriend experience, bought and paid for . . . well, not paid for yet, but she intended to settle that issue before they left. But the fact that she was aware that the boyfriend gig was a side job for him—a service that pretty much meant he enjoyed his single status—made it easy for her to guard her emotions and keep things between them light and fun, with no messy involvements.