Tomboy

“There is magic in this,” she said, relaxing against the seat, the back of her head resting against Zach’s forearm.

A sizzle of awareness went through her at even that simple touch, making her entire body take notice. It had officially been too long if just touching the back of her head to a dude’s forearm did this to her.

Of course, this wasn’t just any guy, it was Zach Blackburn, he of the serious arm porn, abs-o-rific torso, and the chin dimple that she kept dreaming about kissing. What in the hell was wrong with her? The guacamole had short-circuited her brain. It was the only explanation for why she hadn’t lifted her head so she wasn’t touching him anymore.

“Agreed. It’s totally magical,” he agreed as he scraped the last of the guacamole onto a broken chip and held it out within an inch of her mouth. “You want?”

“Was this part of your negotiating plan?” she asked, her lungs tightening as anticipation swirled around inside her, making her nipples pucker.

His gaze dropped to her already parted lips, and he sucked in a breath. “Definitely.”

Sure, maybe she could blame the whole-body bliss on perfect guacamole, but the truth was she didn’t think, she just reacted, opening her mouth and letting him feed her. He didn’t just shove the half chip in her mouth or hold it out, teasing her, though. Instead, he gave her exactly what she wanted and needed at the moment. And the gentle slide of his thumb to swipe up the dot of guac that had landed on the corner of her mouth? It sent a frisson of awareness skittering across her every nerve ending.

Flavor exploded on her tongue at the same time as the rest of her body woke up and said hello to the ill-advised possibilities of touching Zach. Food had always been just delicious fuel to her. She’d never understood the sensuality of it until that moment when it hit her like a bullet vibe pressed right to her cl

it. It felt right and wrong and oh-so-fucking fantastic.

Luckily, Mama saved her from her own mutinous self by leading a parade of waiters back to their table with a billion and a half plates of food. There were chimichangas, enchiladas, rice, beans, and so much more. Even better? Every single bite tasted amazing.

“What’s it gonna take to get you to agree to be at the home games?” Zach asked between bites.

“Don’t forget you want me to call before away games also.” She was blaming the totally divine verde sauce for making her forget that they were on opposite sides of this negotiation.

He nodded, sending his hair falling forward into his eyes. “Yeah, that, too.”

This morning she’d woken up with absolutely every intention of never seeing Zach Blackburn again after the clinic fundraiser unless he was on her TV. She wasn’t his Lady Luck. She was just a nurse with an attitude. Then he’d fed her the best Mexican food there could ever be, told her he gave a high school kid hockey lessons, and he’d stayed at the fundraiser signing autographs and taking pictures long past when she thought he’d be gone.

Fuck. You are such a sucker at heart, girl.

She should tell him thank you and no right now before she ended up in way over her head. There was something about seeing him with his guard down like this that made her think there was more to him than the asshole everyone saw in the tabloids. Don’t go there. Be strong. Saying no was the smart move. It was exactly what she was going to end this little internal battle of the oh yes with—the smart answer of fuck no.

“Two more appearances at the clinic, at least one with more of your team,” she said.

Fuuuuuuck. She clamped her mouth shut before she could offer up anything else. That was not what she’d planned on saying.

“Done.” His satisfied grin showed off the never-before-noticed mini-dimple in his left cheek. “What else?”

The self-preserving part of her brain finally kicked into gear. “If I’m working, I’m working. No guilt-tripping me for not being able to be at a home game.”

His jaw squared, and he glared at her. “I don’t like that.”

The glare probably would have worked—he gave great stink eye—but she was onto him. Zach “The Most-Hated Man in Harbor City” Blackburn was a secret softie.

“Too bad.” She lifted one shoulder and then let it drop. “It’s nonnegotiable. Some of us have bills to pay.”

He opened his mouth and then closed it quick, as if he didn’t want whatever he was about to say to come out. “Fine.”

Pushing aside the need to examine what it was that he was trying to keep a lid on—because this was Zach Blackburn, a business acquaintance in this weird situation and not a friend—she picked up the empty guacamole serving bowl. “And I’ll need the recipe for this.”

Up went the eyebrow with the metal bar through it. “I have to marry into the Lopez family to get that.”

“We all have to make sacrifices.” She grinned at him. “And don’t worry, I’ll be your best man.”

That made him laugh. It was a good laugh deep and full. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“No kidding. Deal?” She held out her hand, which was kind of hard to do in the little booth, since they were already so close together.

His gaze flicked down to her hand, his jaw squared, and his body tensed. The air around them went from being normal oxygen to something heavier that was filled with an electric promise. Then he looked back up at her, something dark, dangerous, and downright delicious in his hard eyes.