Kissing Jenna (Big Sky 2)

“It shows.”

“And I’m lucky that it comes pretty naturally to me.”

“You are lucky. I have zero rhythm.”

He scoffs and takes another drink of his water. “I don’t believe that. Everyone has rhythm. We just have to find it.”

I feel my eyes widen and shake my head. “I’m not dancing with you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No.”

“Come on.” He nudges my shoulder with his. I look up into happy, blue eyes. “You’re among friends.”

Thankfully, the previews start, and I’m saved by darkness and advertising. We are the only ones here, in the dark, and the screen is a riot of color as we chew on our popcorn and enjoy the show.

I can’t help but glance over at Christian and enjoy the emotion rolling over his face. His eyes never leave the screen. He’s soaking it all in.

An alien jumps across the screen and I startle, letting out a squeak. Christian laughs and rests his hand on my thigh, patting me gently.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, damn alien.”

He laughs again, and we’re lost in the story once more. When his popcorn is gone, he reaches into my bag for a handful, brushing his fingers against mine.

Jesus, I feel the intensity of his touch down to the pit of my stomach. How can a simple touch ignite every nerve ending in my body?

And why does he smell so damn good?

I simply pass him the bag. I’m finished with it anyway, and I can’t have him touching me like that. He has a damn girlfriend.

We’re just friends.

Actually, we’re acquaintances. He’s a client. I’m a tour guide.

But damn, it doesn’t suck to hang out with him.

And it has nothing at all to do with his celebrity status. He’s funny. And sexy as hell. If he lived here and didn’t have a girlfriend, I would ask him out.

I sigh, determined to focus on the movie and not on the irresistible man to my right.

When the credits finish rolling, we gather our trash and leave the theater, and once we’re in my car, I turn to him.

“What did you think?”

“I’m still processing,” he replies. “And I think you should have dinner with me so we can discuss it further.”

I cock an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Because it sounded like a statement.”

“Will you please have dinner with me?” He bats his thick, dark eyelashes and I can’t help but laugh. I put the car in gear and pull away.

“Yes. As long as you’re not tired of me.”

“Definitely not. Maybe I’ll get a couple of drinks in you and talk you into dancing with me.”

“Not gonna happen.”

No way, no how.

He just shrugs and watches the town pass by as we drive toward the mountain.

“What should we have for dinner?” I ask him.

“Not picky,” he says.

“I have salmon and salad stuff in the fridge in the Ponderosa,” I say, thinking aloud. “I think that’s the last of my groceries up there.”

“Do you live there full-time?”

“No, I’ve just been staying there for the past week or so, selfishly enjoying it now that the units are finished. I have a place in town.”

He nods.

“Do you want to see it?”

“Your place? Sure.”

I turn the corner and drive to my little house that’s tucked away in an older neighborhood in town. I love it.

“I see my brother Brad came by to shovel,” I comment as I pull into the garage and cut the engine. “Come on in.”

Christian follows me into the house, walking close behind me. I can feel the heat of him.

I have permanent goosebumps from this man.

I flip on the lights in the mudroom, and then the kitchen.

“This is really great,” he says, looking around the space. “You’ve remodeled.”

“Of course, I have,” I say with a laugh. “It’s what I do. The house has been completely renovated, inside and out. But the original structure was built in 1904.”

He glances over in surprise. “Wow, it doesn’t look that old.”

“I know.” I sigh and rub my palm over the molding surrounding the doorway to the living room. “It did when I bought it. I had to replace the plumbing, the electrical, the roof. I did salvage the floors.”

I glance up to see him watching me, his face completely sober. His hands are in his pockets, and he looks…delicious.

“Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“It’s your passion,” he says simply, and I nod.

“Absolutely.”

“Your face lights up when you’re talking about your projects,” he says and slowly walks toward me. I’m caught up in his eyes, unable to walk away. He stops about two feet in front of me and lifts his hand, drags his knuckles down my cheek. “You’re a beautiful woman, Jenna Hull.”

I swallow, my cheek buzzing from his touch. His eyes are on my lips now, and I instinctively lick them.

“Damn it,” he mutters before he cups my face and neck in his hands. His lips are suddenly on mine, smooth and sure, taking me from quiet yearning to blazing fire in one-point-six seconds.