One Night (Superstars in Love 2)

She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “They do. Especially British ones.”

“Then you’ve gone to dinner with the right guy.”

“What else can you do?”

He leaned back in his chair, switching to a French accent. “I happen to be excellent at British accents in particular but can certainly do others.”

She dropped her hand and laughed freely. The way her eyes lit up when she laughed drew him in. Tantalized him in a way he’d never been tantalized before. She was like a drug, and he wanted more. “You’re good.”

Of course he was good at them. It was his job. He switched tones. “I can do Australian.” He switched to Spanish. “And, of course, Spanish.” He grinned when she burst into laughter, changing to Russian. “The better question is … what can’t I do?” American again. “Nothing! I can do them all, sugar.”

She rolled her eyes, but laughed. “Oh God, please don’t say sugar. You need help with your slang if you want to impress me.”

He lifted his glass to her. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I try to impress you.”

“Next time?” Her smile slid away, and she set her beer down. Already, he could hear her adding up all the reasons they shouldn’t see each other again. She picked up her cell and looked at it. “I think—”

He caught her gaze. “You know what I think? I think you think too much.”

“I do not.” She pressed her lips together, her eyes flashing with anger. “I use my brain a perfectly logical amount.”

He placed his hands on the table, leaning in. “How did you figure that out? By thinking?”

“I—you—” She stopped talking, then laughed softly. “You’re too much. Yes, I figured it out by thinking. It’s kind of something I do.”

“I gathered.”

She crossed her arms. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Depends.” He looked her up and down. “You have to know when not to think. Sometimes it’s better to stop using your head—and start feeling. Blimey, what good is life if you’re always worrying?”

She shook her head. “I’ve felt plenty of things. I’ll stick with cold, hard logic. It’s safer.”

“Not with me you won’t. Not tonight.” He stood up, grabbing her hand as he passed. She stumbled to her feet and followed him, her steps hesitant. “I might not know you very well, but I’m making it my personal mission to loosen you up.”

She dug her heels into the floor, fighting his hold feebly. He knew if she really wanted to get away, she could. His fingers were loose on her wrist. “We should probably—”

“Have a few shots, get a little arse over elbow, and then go watch the fireworks from my flat? Sure, let’s go.”

“I definitely don’t think that’s a good idea,” she protested, following him despite her refusal. “I don’t like shots. And I’m not going to your place.”

“For one night, can you just do something fun? With me?”

She hesitated. “I’m not fun. I warned you ahead of time. I just wanted a distraction.”

“Oh, stuff it. I don’t believe that. You’re just scared to let loose. Furthermore, I’m not finished distracting you yet.”

“I barely even know you,” she said, her mouth pursed. “Why would I go home with you?”

“Besides the obvious?” He chuckled at her immediate blush. She was so adorably innocent, while somehow being undeniably sexy at the same time. It was a killer combination. “All right. How about we dance all night long instead of going to my flat, then? Close down the bar.”

She winced. “I don’t dance. I’m horrible at it.”

He raised a brow. “You don’t dance. Don’t sing. What do you do to relax? To have fun?”

“I, uh, well, I knit.” She turned bright pink and added, “and I read a lot, too.”

“Doesn’t count.” He dragged her to the bar and caught the bartender’s eye. When she came closer, Justin leaned in. “Hello.”