“Funny,” he said. “I know exactly what to do with you.” His fingers coasted over the curve of her butt and he punctuated his claim with a quick squeeze before setting her free. “You are temptation in high heels.”
The heavy beat of desire pulsing between her thighs made it hard for London to utter her next words. “I think I’d better go home.”
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
To her dismay, his words disappointed her. As they made their way to the parking lot where she’d left her car, she mulled several questions. How had she hoped the evening might end? That he would press her to extend their time together? Suggest that she come home with him?
He’d demonstrated that he was attracted to her...hadn’t he? Wasn’t that what he’d meant by his temptation-in-high-heels remark? He spoke as if he wanted her, but his actions hadn’t crossed any boundaries she’d set for first-date behavior. His kisses hadn’t been designed to blow past her defenses and set her afire. She had no doubt that would happen. The brief contact with him had demonstrated her body was dry kindling and his lips the spark that would set her alight.
“Are you okay?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.
“Fine.” Yet she was anything but. What if there was something wrong with her? Something that caused men to lose interest in sex. Could it be that she was the sort of woman who turned men off? Harrison had barely kissed her. Maybe he’d been uninterested in taking things any further.
London’s skin prickled as she pondered her relationship with Linc. For months now she’d been plagued by the worry that the reason he’d broken off their engagement was her lack of desirability. Sure, sex between them had been good. Linc was a fantastic lover and she’d never gone unsatisfied. But there hadn’t ever been the sort of rip-your-clothes-off passion Maribelle so often talked about having with Beau. In fact, London had grown surly with her best friend several times after Maribelle had shared stories about her and her fiancé.
“Remember I told you I was an introvert?”
“Yes.”
“Aside from the negative impression we can give about being shy, aloof or stuck-up, we have a lot of really positive characteristics. One of those being our ability to take in a lot of information and process it.”
Unsure what he was getting at, London asked, “What sort of information?”
“When I’m in the middle of a race, it can be tiny nuances about how other cars are moving that telegraph what their drivers are thinking. I’m also pretty good at reading micro-expressions. I can tell by tiny muscle shifts what someone might be feeling.”
“You think you know what I’m feeling?” She disliked being like a bug under a microscope.
“I can tell you’re not happy.”
Rather than agree or disagree, she raised one eyebrow and stared at him.
“You can give me that face all day, but I’m not the one you’re upset with.”
“What makes you think I’m upset at anyone?”
“Not anyone. Yourself.”
That he had read her so easily should’ve rattled London, but there was no judgment in his manner. “And I suppose you know why?”
“I could guess, but I’d rather wait until you’re ready to tell me.”
He couldn’t have said anything better, and all at once London wanted to cry. She prided herself on her strength and resilience. That Harrison had whipped up her hormones, roused her insecurities and nearly reduced her to tears demonstrated just how dangerous he could be.
“What if I never do?”
To her shock, he wrapped her in a fierce, platonic hug that left her body tingling and her nerves raw.
“Everyone needs someone to talk to, London,” he whispered and then let her go. Before she could untie her tongue, he continued, “I’ll call you later this week with the details about Saturday. I’m looking forward to having you and your friends at the race.”
London used the distraction of sliding behind the wheel to grab at her flailing control and reined in her wayward emotions. “Is there anything I should know beforehand?”
“We’re looking at sunshine and midsixties for race day, so dress accordingly.”
“Okay.” London had no idea what to wear to a racetrack, but no doubt Maribelle would have plenty of ideas. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
“See you Saturday.” With a wink, Harrison stepped back so she could close the car door.
* * *