“It is what it is.” He lowered his hand to the space between them. His fingers weren’t any closer to her than they’d been before, but there they sat, a breath from her thigh that she could almost feel the heat from his skin.
She cleared her throat, praying her erratic heartbeat wasn’t visible. “You’re not one for nostalgia then.”
His answering smile was small and thoughtful, barely a quirk of his lips. “Not really. There are only so many times you can ride the Ferris Wheel before you’re over it.”
“Oh, I’ve never been on it.” In retrospect, that seemed silly. She visited the Pier often enough, but she’d never paid entry into the amusement park. It had just seemed frivolous to waste the money, to go by herself with no one to share the fun with. Her only real friend in California was pushing seventy and would rather spend her evenings burning sage with her giant dog.
Des stared at her as though she’d sprouted crab legs and scuttled around.
She rolled her shoulder, self-consciousness seeking a physical outlet. “What?”
“This is a travesty and must be rectified immediately.” He rose, shaking his head in disbelief. “Finish whatever that thing is you’re eating while I grab tickets.”
Funnel cake was not the kind of thing you could survive eating quickly, but she never finished a whole one anyway. She’d managed to scarf down a little over half of it by the time Des returned, clutching a goofy bracelet and wearing another on his left wrist. He watched as she tossed the remainder of her food. “Don’t your teeth hurt?”
She sucked the last cinnamon dust off her thumb then stilled when his gaze fixed on her mouth. Time slowed. She could feel his eyes on her like a caress. She hesitated for only a beat before she decided to lean into it, rolling her tongue over the tip of her thumb before licking her lips. His breath hitched, and he swayed toward her.
It was a matter of inches, barely a movement at all, but he caught himself abruptly and stepped back. Had he been about to kiss her?
She held out her wrist, curling her fingers into a fist to hide their trembling. “The taste is worth it.”
He wrapped the bright red strip of vinyl around her. His strong fingers took hold of the snap and maneuvered it into place with ease and accuracy. He even folded over the excess band so it wouldn’t flap around. The only time he hesitated in his movements was when he brushed the inside of her wrist, close to her pulse point. It barely counted as a touch, but the warmth of it sank into her, seeping into her veins. She met his gaze, her breathing uneven. Could he feel the way her pulse stuttered? She took a deep breath to steady herself, and succeeded only in inhaling his cologne. It was intriguing, not overpowering—a clean, masculine scent undercut with the natural spice of hisskin. She had to force herself not to step closer, bury her nose into the curve of his neck, and breathe deeper.
The snap on her bracelet clicked shut, and she pulled out of his grasp.
She licked her lips again and shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.
“You sure know your way around a theme park bracelet.” The joke was awful, a flaccid attempt at recovering the flippant tone they’d lost. Had she been alone, she would have cringed at herself.
He smiled and gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I worked here one summer in high school.” His humor was self-deprecating.
She had worked far more humiliating jobs as a teenager than the ticket booth at an amusement park, but that little tidbit was the most personal thing she knew about Desmond Blake. “Oh?” She hoped her nonchalance would encourage him to embellish.
He put his hand out toward her, as though to touch her shoulder, but abandoned the gesture before making contact. Stifling her disappointment, she allowed him to lead her to the turnstiles at the park’s entrance. “Yeah. My parents made my sister and I work every summer.”
His parentsmadehim. So they hadn’t needed the money.
“To learn the value of hard work.”
“And did you?” She passed through the turnstile with him behind her.
“Sure. I come from a family of doctors. None of us are strangers to hard work.”
She’d never considered Des’s family before but learning they were in medicine didn’t surprise her. It was easy to see qualities in him that would be valuable in a physician or a surgeon. While most of their interactions were shallow and flirtatious, he carried himself with an air of determination and assurance that would serve him well in life-or-death situations.
Just the idea of playing doctor with Des was enough to dampen her panties. She squeezed her thighs together.
Her cheeks heated, and she silently thanked the sun for setting. “So you come from a family of doctors…and you make sex toys.”
She meant it as a light-hearted rib, but he didn’t smile. His lips tightened as though he tried to but couldn’t manage it. After a moment, he said, “I didn’t become a doctor, no.”
He had a story to tell, but she wasn’t keen to have their first foray into Serious Conversation be something that upset him. While she would like to learn more about him, delving too deep too fast would risk what relationship they did have.
She gave him a little nudge with her elbow. “Too bad.” She’d never initiated touching between them before, and a thrill shot through her in response. “I bet you’d look great in a white coat.”
A slow, sensual smile crept across his lips, and dark heat bloomed low in her belly. “I look great in everything,” he said.
Around them, Pacific Park hummed with activity. This Thursday evening, bells rang and buzzers blared at nearby carnival game booths, and the steady click-clack of roller coasters climbing their tracks underscored the chatter of the crowd.
