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She stood. His gaze rested on her face a beat too long before he bent down to collect the scattered cups and lids. Whoever made his jeans should get a substantial bonus for the way they fit against his…thighs. Yup. Thighs. That’s what she was looking at.
Lucy kneeled to pick up a cardboard drink tray. When her knuckles accidentally grazed his, she drew a faint breath.
No. She stopped herself and tugged her hand away.
The teenage girl who crushed hard on him no longer existed. That girl had transformed into a strong woman with a career and a plan for her future that absolutely did not include him. Impressions, however, did matter to her. How was she supposed to salvage the beginnings of the reputation that she hoped to have in the newsroom when she now wore the coffee she was supposed to bring back?
“I’m sorry. This is my fault.” He dumped the dripping mess into the garbage.
She rubbed a hand over her forehead. “I can’t show up without coffee.”
“I’ll get more.” He stared at her again for a long moment. Like he saw something there… a memory.
Crap. Had he finally recognized her?
“What?” she asked when he continued to stare.
“You have freckles,” he said softly.
She raised her index finger to the bridge of her nose. “Uh-huh.”
Oh. The damn goose bumps reappeared. This time with tingles she refused to give a second thought.
He gestured to her cheek. “You have a little coffee there.”
Oh. Right. Coffee. Sure.
She wiped it away and held her shoulders a little higher. On that reality show, he had wrestled tongues with more women than there were notches in a belt. Teenage Lulu had desperately wanted to be on the receiving end of a William lip-lock exchange. Adult Lucy would never allow herself such a self-indulgence. Kissing William had no place in her life anymore.
She refused to be the next, “next, please.”
This was the guy who had floated pizzas in the swimming pool and built a vodka ice luge on the roof of the Florida frat house where they filmed the show. He had no business making her tingle.
“I like them,” he said.
“Like what?”
“Freckles.” He shook his head slightly and gestured for her to follow. In a nearby hallway, they found a janitor. William collected the supplies and insisted on cleaning the mess himself. “This’ll only take a second, then we’ll go get more.”
Lucy helped mop up the spill, checking the clock on the wall. She’d have to be quick about this coffee run. They had a national cut-in soon.
Outside, Main Street stirred as they walked toward the coffee house. The sun was up, shops had opened their doors, and more people milled about on the sidewalk. Lucy strove for a brisk pace, but William seemed in no hurry. Clearly, etiquette in Confluence involved waving and commenting on the weather to complete strangers.
“Hello again. And look, you brought a friend,” the cheerful barista chirped when they entered the shop.
“I had a little accident back at the station. I dropped the whole thing. Can you re-make the order?” Lucy asked quickly.
The coffee girl leaned toward William. “Would you like any extra sugar this morning?”
Seriously?
“I’m more of a honey guy.” He flashed his dimples. “Table sugar is too sweet.”
“And you’re not…sweet?” The woman batted her eyelashes at him.
He glanced at Lucy and held her stare. “Suppose I can be in the right circumstance.”
Well, huh. She felt those words in a very intimate place. The barista banged a portafilter against the machine.
