“You’re working out with it?”
“Of course.” She was walking a little further on it each day. She’d get there.
“But not swimming.”
Fortunately her Greek salad arrived, so she avoided answering by giving effusive thanks to the waiter. He was so getting a big tip from her, his timing was perfection.
“I meant it when I said I’d teach you to swim.” Xander said the second the waiter walked away again.
“And I meant it when I said I already could.”
“So why don’t you?”
“I do. I just prefer privacy.”
He was silent a moment. “Why?”
A lie based on truth was more believable, right? “My leg. I feel self-conscious. I don’t swim as well as I once did, and while I’m working on it I don’t like people staring at it.”
“I won’t stare at it,” he said calmly. “There are other bits of your body I’d like to stare at instead.”
She choked.
“What happened?” he asked softly.
“Lettuce went down the wrong way.”
“Chelsea.” Firmer that time.
She’d known the question was coming. She sighed. “Car accident. It’s a lot better.”
“Were you driving?”
She paused, her fork part-way lifted but she looked directly at him, wanting him to understand this was non-negotiable. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Ever.
He held her gaze. Slowly he nodded. As he did the serious look in his eyes vanished and the roguish one returned. “I’m Scorpio. My favorite color is navy. I like apples but I don’t like bananas—except in milkshakes or baking. I love roasted red peppers.”
“What are you doing?” She laughed at the random change in topic.
“Telling you ten things about myself so you won’t feel like you’re sleeping with a stranger.”
Her jaw almost hit the floor. She shut it with a snap and stared at him her brain both going to mush and becoming acutely alert. Unperturbed he met her gaze, a half smile on his lips and that spark kindling his eyes.
“I can’t decide if you actually mean that, or are just trying for a reaction.” And he was getting a reaction. A mix of astonishment and scalding heat. The heat was winning, melting her resistance, her reason, slickening her muscles, making her boneless all over again.
“Why not both?”
That irresistible mix of laughter and roguishness lit his eyes making him so damn attractive. She lifted her glass and took a long sip of iced water and tried to rein herself in. Well of course the man thought she’d sleep with him the second he asked, given the way she’d been hot and wet and writhing against him less than half an hour ago...
It was a bad move to remember those minutes in his arms. She was incinerating from the inside out and the urge to fly straight to the source of the flame was overpowering.
Okay. She set the glass down. She’d play the game. Twist it. “You’re not telling me anything relevant.”
“I’d have thought vegetables were very relevant.” He speared a piece of steak. “Especially to a woman who loves herbs.”
“Where did you grow up?” She ignored his comment and went with her burgeoning curiosity.
He cocked his head, his wicked grin widening. He waggled his fork at her the way an old-school strict teacher waved a ruler. “I’ll only tell you if you tell me. The questions you ask me, you have to be prepared to answer yourself. Game?”
“Sure.” She could work with that. “Where did you grow up?”
“California in the early years. Summerhill in the later. It’s a ski town.”
“Nice. You ski?”
He nodded. “So your turn—where’d you grow up?”
“A town near Rochester.” She picked at another piece of lettuce. “Where are your parents?”
“My mother lives in Summerhill.”
“And your father?”
He shrugged.
Hmm. Broken home? She wanted to ask more, to challenge, to pry. But didn’t want to have to reciprocate. And judging by the amused look on his face he knew it. So far, so not enlightening. She pondered some possibilities. Then couldn’t resist a little tease. “Vanilla or chocolate?”
His expression sharpened. “Chocolate. I like the richness—I like the variety—from rich, dark and bitter to creamy milk and sweet. You?”
“Vanilla,” she said, mainly to be contrary. “The scent. The subtlety. And yet it too can be very rich.”
“You’re not a chocolate lover?”
“I like it, but the question was preference, right?” She gave him a coy look. “If forced to choose.”
“Okay. Another question?” he prompted.
“Best moment ever.”
He paused, putting on a ponderous look. Then a wry grin appeared, chasing away the solemnity and putting the wicked glint back in his eyes. “It’s going to sound cheesy.”
“I don’t mind a little cheese,” she said softly.
“You want me to be honest?”
She nodded.
“First summer on the job.”
“Engineering?”
“Lifeguard.”
Oh of course—it was his hero syndrome. “You saved someone?” She’d pulled someone from the water too. But it had been too late. She didn’t know if she could bear listening to his story.
He shook his head.“ I was fourteen. It was a dog.”
Relieved yet touched, a small burst of giggles escaped her.
“It mattered to that little kid,” he said, all seriousness.
Of course it did. It was sweet. “Did you have a dog when you were a boy?”
He shook his head. “Your turn to answer.”
“Yeah, we had a black spaniel. He was—”
“No,” Xander interrupted with a knowing smile. “Best moment.”
Damn. She looked away. It should have been the night Tom proposed. “I’ve had lots of good moments,” she fudged. “Still waiting on the best.”
He kept watching her—apparently waiting for her to say more. But she didn’t. Instead she looked into his pale blue eyes and felt her insides melt.
&nbs
p; “That’s your ten,” he finally said. “Know me well enough now?”
Chapter Eight
This was crazy. She should be working on her project. She should be making calls or hitting the streets to scope out possible venues or drumming up some kind of promo. Instead she was refusing to be intimidated as Xander ignored all ‘elevator etiquette’ and turned his back to the doors sliding shut. As the compartment began its ascent he faced her, intent apparent in every line of his body. A half smile curved his lips, his blue eyes burned.
She stood right at the back of the small space, planting her feet a little apart as if she were bracing for a blow... or something. The atmosphere thickened. Each beat of her heart slammed in her ears. She wanted, but she couldn’t seem to move or speak. She just stared at him until it seemed the rest of the world had disappeared. Stupidly dizzy she leaned back, letting the wall support her. A sweet poison spread along her veins, causing need to uncurl in every cell and heighten her senses. Languorous, yet on edge, she waited, reading the heat in his expression. The dare, the desire. The demand.
The elevator chimed. The doors slid open. She peeled away from the wall, dragging her attention from him and making herself move out onto her floor. Reality returned as she walked to her door. She couldn’t do this. A one night stand in the afternoon with a virtual stranger? It was preposterous. It wasn’t the kind of thing she ever did. And she couldn’t do it now.
“You can’t look at me like that and then just walk away.” His low, teasing whisper came from right behind her.
For the merest moment she paused, touched by that smile in his voice.
His arms encircled her. Tightly.
She closed her eyes, stunned at the rush of warmth and need that flooded within her. “This is crazy.”
“That doesn’t make it wrong.”
“I never do this.”
“That still doesn’t make it wrong.”
Slowly, testingly, she tried to move. His grip loosened only enough for her to pivot on the spot. She stared up at him. His intention—his desire—was clear.
“One afternoon. One fantasy. Just one.” His eyes were dominated by the huge dark pupils in the center, drawing her into their velvety temptation—warm, liquid pools. “Chelsea?”