He dropped into the chair with a heavy sigh, pulled his arms out of the jacket, and let it slump over the back of his seat. “We really got off to a bad start. Can we just…start over?”
She scanned the way his deep-brown Henley clung to his muscled torso, one she could still see naked. His beard looked fuller than it had earlier. The overall effect was… Well, it was not anything she needed to be thinking about.
“I’m not much for second chances,” she said. “I pretty much believe we are what we are. I’ve seen what you are, and I’m not impressed. You obviously don’t think much of me either. This is one of those situations when it’s better to just stay well out of each other’s way.”
His attempt at good nature drained into frustration. He shifted in his chair, and a clear you’re-really-putting-me-out-here message radiated from him as he cradled the paper cup with both hands. “How can you preach to me about sugar while you’re eating that? Are you the do-what-I-say-not-what-I-do type?”
“I’m not rehabbing. And there’s not an ounce of sugar in this. It’s not going to turn into sugar the minute it hits my bloodstream either. It’s a bran muffin, sweetened with applesauce.”
“So, sorta like cardboard.” He pressed those beautifully shaped lips to the rim of his cup and sipped, followed by a hum of pleasure, a sigh of relief, and those deep blues rolling back in his head, lids closing.
Desire swirled low in her abdomen like the snow flurries stirring outside. Her mind drifted to what he’d be like in bed—hurried and selfish, typical for a man used to having the world revolve around him? Or as intense and deliberate as his personality implied?
She crossed her arms and forced the sensations out with a deep breath. Looks meant nothing. And looks were the only thing he had going for him.
“Keys, please.” She slid her chair back. “I want to hit the road. It’s going to be a long drive back with this storm.”
“What?” He opened his eyes with a look of surprise, then smirked. “You’re not really—”
“Going to leave? Jesus, you are full of yourself. Yeah. I’m really going to leave. If you think you’re going to treat me like you did at the house, then pretend it didn’t happen…” She tossed up her hands. “All I can say is…dude.”
He laughed, a low, husky, authentic sound that she felt in the pit of her stomach. Then the dimple in his right cheek appeared. And his eyes sparkled.
This was the media flirt. She’d seen him before.
Julia extended her hand again. “Please.”
“Hold on.” The grin melted into alarm. “You weren’t particularly nice to me either.”
“Like I said, people are pretty much what they are. I’m straightf
orward, no-nonsense, no sugar coating. I gave you the facts. If you want to heal, you have to face the tough stuff. Suck it up, playboy.”
His golden brows shot up. “And my car?”
She dropped her hand, inhaled a breath, and held it, contemplating a response. In the end, she couldn’t find anything appropriate—or snarky. So she exhaled and studied her muffin. “Yeah.” She drew out the word. “I’m, um, sorry about the car. I shouldn’t have done that. It was…impulsive.” She met his eyes as she pulled her purse strap from the back of the chair. “Good thing we found out we can’t work together sooner rather than later, right? I’ve really got to get going.”
“Well, I’m sorry about locking you out too. If I’d known it was only nine degrees outside—”
“You’d have flipped the dead bolt, and we both know it.”
He dropped his head back and started laughing. The sound was rich and easy and made some of the tension leak from Julia’s shoulders. Made a smile turn her mouth. He sat back and set his coffee down, then met her eyes again, that killer grin gleaming. “I’m trying to apologize here—”
“Appreciated. Accepted. Let’s put this all behind us and go on with our lives.” When he didn’t offer the keys, she added, “This is the last time I’m asking before I shoot down that snowy freeway in your shiny Maserati. And I suck at driving in the snow. Just sayin’.”
“Why the hate?” He leaned even farther back to reach into his pocket. She absolutely did not stare at his crotch as the denim stretched across his package.
The jingle of her keys drew her gaze from where she was absolutely not looking.
“I’ve got an unbeatable deal for you, sweetheart,” he said. “Just hear me out.”
“My first mistake was hearing Drake out, and my name is Julia, not sweetheart.”
“Drake twists things upside down and sideways, and you’re right, you’re a little too edgy to be considered sweet. But back to me.”
“Of course. It’s all about you.”
He grinned. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”