Indignant, I sniff my nose in the air. “And what effect do you think I’m aiming for?”
“You want to scare me off by acting like a prim and proper scholarly type who’s never enjoyed even a hint of human affection.”
Damn him. “And what effectdoesit have?”
“I happen to enjoy corrupting the prim and proper scholarly type.” His eyebrow arches just a smidge. “As you very well know.”
My eyes narrow. “There will be nocorruptingtonight.”
“What about kissing?”
I lock my knees so he can’t see how much his words affect me. He’s an incredible kisser. “Absolutely not.”
“What about some harmless flirting?”
I eye the bag in his hand. “Are you making dessert?”
He nods.
“You may flirt,” I say. “But I want you to understand that I’m…” I take a big breath for extra courage. “I’m setting a boundary.”
“Tell me.”
“You hurt me. If it gets too much… If I get upset… I need you to leave if I ask you to. No questions asked. Okay?”
Luke’s nod is solemn. “Of course. And provided you don’t start throwing around scientific terms likepenisagain, it’s a deal.”
I roll my eyes, but when I turn away, I’m grinning. My happiness doesn’t even fade when we reach the top of the stairs. The front door’s playing nice again this week. It opens easily when I twist my key in the lock.
Luke pauses in the doorway. “It’s, uh… quaint,” he says, wincing at the sight of just about everything.
“Sawyer talked to Cain about fixing up a few things.” I wave him through. I won’t get my dinner if he stays gawking at everything falling apart in my life. “He’s starting on the repairs next weekend.”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Sawyer.”
“Not really.”
“Kristen mentioned she ran into you at the community center.”
“You’ve been spending a lot of time withherlately.”
“We’re friends.” He grimaces after he says it as if he instantly regrets it. “Sort of.”
“Is that publicist speak for her being one of your…arrangements?”
“Kristen? Bloody hell. No. She helped me secure the lease on the restaurant. She’s not exactly my type, Els.”
“Who’s your type?”
“Women with…” His eyes slowly trail over my braid. “Dark hair.” His heated look flicks away, and he starts unpacking ingredients on the countertop.
“You can stop with the false compliments,” I huff.
“You have stunning hair.”
I snort. “If that were true, you would’ve scored me a one and not a zero.”
The carton of eggs in his hand lowers slowly to the counter. “I wish I’d never said that.”
