Some Like it Hotter

He was out of his element here. Somehow she’d maneuvered him into feeling he’d be rude to ask her to leave. Yet he had every right to.

“You know, Eva, tonight might not be the best—”

“Jean said you weren’t busy.” She turned around holding Jamie Goode’s The Science of Wine.

“Uh...”

“Oh, I see. You just don’t want to go.” She put the book back and approached his desk, mouth bunched slightly. “That’s fine. I just thought it would be fun for both of us. Especially if you don’t get out much.”

“What makes you think I don’t get out much?”

Again that head tilt. She was close enough now he could see the tattoo was a tiny hummingbird. “Did you go out last night?”

“Not last night, but—”

“Night before?”

“No, not then, but—”

“Night before that?” She was enjoying this—her face was solemn, but her eyes were sparkling with fun.

He put his fists on his hips and glared at her.

Eva burst into laughter and shielded her face with her hands. “No, no, not the death-ray eyes. I was teasing you. Listen, I get that you’re not interested. That’s fine.”

“Okay.” He felt profound relief. And also...not. He dealt with it by picking up his pen again.

“By that I mean...” Her eyebrows lifted; the sparkle hadn’t left her eyes. “That I’m fine going out with men who aren’t interested.”

This time he laughed. She might be a crazed stalker, but she was appealing in her own eccentric way, and obviously intelligent. “You’re very determined.”

“Hmm, how funny, Chris says the same about you.”

He barely avoided blushing. “I guess she would.”

“If you want my advice...”

“Not really.”

Eva waggled her finger. “You need to give up on that. She’s not going to change her mind.”

Ames’s jaw tightened. Disappointment and embarrassment that Eva and Chris had obviously been talking about what an annoyance he was.

He’d been so sure about Chris, had pictured her in his future, and it had felt natural and right.

Yeah, well, to hell with that.

“I’m sorry, Ames. I know you...cared for her in some way.”

Her sympathy triggered an outraged testosterone rush. He did not need pity. He was not a pathetic, lovelorn geek who failed in pursuit of women, nor was he a dork who stayed home every night working.

He threw his pen down. “I guess if we’re going, we better get started.”

“Oh, good!” Eva’s face lit up. “I am in a totally adventurous mood. Where shall we go?”

“Greenwich Village,” He answered immediately, hoping he hadn’t just doomed himself to an exhausting and unbearable evening. But Greenwich Village was one of his favorite parts of New York, full of charm and the unexpected. Like Eva. She’d fit in fine there in her wild colors and crazy hair, because nobody didn’t fit in there. And he was unlikely to bump into any important clients—or potential ones—who’d wonder why he was strolling around with a circus clown.

“I’m ready.” She hoisted her pink bag, making her dozen or so bracelets slide and clatter.

He nodded and walked out from behind his desk, stopping to let her precede him to the door.

“Hey. Ames.” She suddenly looked shy, tentative, very different from her usual brassy persona. Almost sweet. Her eyes were very blue, with dark lashes enhanced by mascara but not turned gunky, which seemed to be the style for too many women. Her eyebrows were natural, nicely arched. He could see the resemblance to Chris in the fine shape of her nose and the height of her cheekbones.

“Hey, what?”

“Thanks for doing this.”

Something weird happened in his chest, a buzz of warmth that made him forgive her for interrupting his evening and making him feel like a loser—several times over. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

“Well, but...” She flung her arms out, let them drop in frustration. “That’s half the fun!”

He couldn’t help a grin. “I can still change my mind about going out.”

“You won’t.” She preceded him out of his office. “You’re not the type of man who ever goes back on a promise.”