Things We Never Said (Hart's Boardwalk 3)

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re full on?”

“I never have been before.”

“Oh, lucky me that you decided to give it a try today.”

“You’re a little smart-ass.” He chuckled. “Your boss know you flip off customers when you’re pretending to be art?”

“You’re the first.”

“I’m honored.”

“You’re also the first to blatantly come in to perv on the models.”

“Not true.” He settled back in his chair like he was getting ready for a long, comfortable chat with me.

I had to get rid of him. My heart was pounding way too fast, my belly was fluttering with butterflies. I was not supposed to react to any guy like this who wasn’t Gary. At the thought of Michael getting up and leaving, however, an overwhelming sense of disappointment came over me. I was enjoying ribbing him, and he was … well, the way he made me feel was kind of exciting.

Oh boy.

“It is so true!” I guffawed. “You were absolutely perving.”

“I was staring at one model. You. And I wasn’t perving.”

“Oh, so you’re

an art aficionado, are you?”

“No, I’m a rookie cop. This is my day off, and I told my friend I would drop him off at this catering gig he has going for tonight. That event is here. I was walking out of the kitchen to my car when I look over and yeah, I’m not going to lie, all I saw at first was a beautiful body. Then I looked at your face, and well,” he shrugged, “I couldn’t look away.”

Maybe I was an idiot to hear the sincerity in his voice. But that’s what I heard. No sleazy come-on. Just honesty. He looked like I’d caught him off guard, which made me feel better about my reaction to him.

I didn’t know what to say.

“You gonna go all shy on me now?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I was formulating a response.”

“Oh, were you?” He chuckled. “You go on, then, and you keep formulating. I’ve got time.”

“I should think you’re a creep.”

He cocked his head. “The point of dressing you up like that was to make people stare, no?”

“Yes, I guess,” I wrinkled my nose, “but other people are less obvious about it.”

“Why you doin’ it?” he nodded toward the gallery.

“It’s not shameful,” I said defensively.

“I didn’t say it was.”

“Well, you’re making it all sexy when it’s supposed to be about art.”

Michael laughed. He looked good laughing. His laughter was deep and rumbly, and I felt that between my legs too.

Dear God.

“You make it sexy, and I think these people knew exactly what they were doing when they hired you.”