Tempting Brooke (Big Sky 2.5)

I stare at myself in the mirror as I brush the curls I just put in my long, dark hair and then laugh at myself.

Brody is just being nice. I practically pushed him into a corner this afternoon, and he asked me to dinner. He’s my friend, and that’s it.

I brush some gloss on my lips, and take stock. Flowy red summer dress: check. Natural makeup: check. Butterflies: check.

The bell dings, and I reach for my small handbag and answer the door.

Brody’s eyes start at my face and slowly meander down my body to my sandal-covered feet, and if I’m not mistaken, his jaw clenches.

Just friends, Brooke.

“Hey.”

I can’t help but take my own perusal of the man standing before me. Jesus in a basket, he fills out a suit nicely. His shoulders are broad, and his arms muscular.

Yes, this does things to me.

“Can I come in?” he asks with a small smile on his lips.

“Of course.” I step back and he walks inside my small house.

“This is nice,” he says, but his eyes are still on me.

“Thanks. I’ve been here for a couple of years.” I glance around, wondering if Brody and I have the same tastes, and then I glance back to him and bust out laughing.

“What?” he asks.

“Turn around.” He complies, and I reach up to pull the tag that’s poked out of the neck of his jacket. His hair is soft against the back of my fingers, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like as I fist it while he does amazing, sexy things to me.

I take a deep breath and hand it to him with a laugh. “Wear it every day, my ass.”

He tucks the tag in his pocket. “I didn’t bring a suit to Montana. I had to improvise.”

He bought it just for me.

And according to the tag, it wasn’t cheap.

Now I feel bad. I shouldn’t have pushed the issue. He spent a bunch of money that he didn’t need to, all because I gave him a hard time.

“I thought we could eat at Ciao tonight,” he says as he leads me out of the house to his rented convertible. The sun broke out a couple of hours ago, and it’s the perfect temperature now. But I just did my hair.

I think about asking him to put the top up, and then decide, fuck it.

I reach into my handbag and pull out a hair tie, twist my hair on top of my head, and grin as I sit in the fun car.

“I could have put the top up.”

“And that would have been a waste on a day like today,” I reply smoothly and have to physically restrain myself from reaching over to brush my fingertips through that soft hair at the nape of his neck.

We drive through town in silence. Rather than park in front of the restaurant, he drives past, and I frown over at him.

“Having second thoughts?”

“No.” He sends me a smile. “Before we go in, I’d like to know why you got so quiet.”

I bite my lip and look out my window, then turn to him and say, “Did you buy that suit just for me?”

“Seems I do a lot of things for you lately,” he replies with a grin. “It’s not a big deal, Brooke.”

“I’m sorry,” I reply. “I was just goofing around this afternoon. I didn’t mean for you to have to do all of this.”

“All of what?”

“Buy that gorgeous suit, take me to dinner. I feel like I hijacked your day, and I feel bad.”

He pulls over, whips his seatbelt off, and turns to me.

“Look at me.”

I comply. He drags his knuckle down my cheek again, and that’s all it takes to set my body on high alert.

I don’t think my nipples will ever be anything but hard again.

“You’ve hijacked my whole week,” he reminds me, making me giggle. I cover my mouth with my hand. “And I invited you to dinner because I wanted to. I enjoy spending time with you, Brooke. I always have.”

“Is your girlfriend pissed that you’re in Montana?” I ask, not even trying to hide that I’m digging for information.

“Yes,” he says and I feel my eyes go wide in mortification. He laughs, hard, like he used to when we were teens. “Jesus, the look on your face is priceless.”

“Tell me you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Why?”

“Because if you do, the thoughts running through my head will surely put me straight into hell.”

His eyes narrow on me and he leans in close, just a few inches from me. “What thoughts are those?”

“I’m not telling.”

His brown eyes fall to my lips, then move back to my own. “I’ll get some wine in you. You’ll talk.”

I snort as he pulls back out onto the street, circles back to the restaurant, and easily finds a spot, which is hard to do this time of year.