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Then the doorbell rang, and Rafe was standing in the foyer, his Hispanic coloring and dark suit making him look suave and debonair.
“Wow,” he said, sounding a bit strangled as he took in Quinn’s appearance. He pulled at his tie. “Your dress is—you look—”
“How about my face?” said Quinn, smacking him under the chin. “How’s that look?”
He grinned and made a show of ogling her chest. “If you wanted an answer to that, you shouldn’t have worn this dress.”
If a boy had said it to her, Becca would have grabbed a sweater. Quinn just laughed. “Come on, Romeo, before Bex has to mop up your drool.”
Quinn kissed her on the cheek and was out the door.
Becca smoothed her skirt and sat on the edge of the couch again. She kept thinking of Chris’s comment in class. He’d hardly said a word since Wednesday, since she’d apologized. And told him that pentagram was gone.
So you don’t need to worry about us anymore.
Light arced across the living room wall as a car pulled into the driveway. Hunter.
Becca tried to keep herself on the couch, but her heart leapt and shoved her toward the door. She flung the door open before he’d even made it up the steps.
God, he looked hot. If she was being honest with herself, she’d been a tiny bit afraid that he’d show up wearing one of those stupid tees with a shirt and tie printed on it. But he was wearing a black suit with a charcoal shirt left open at the neck, and no tie. It fit him well.
Really well.
Becca almost felt like she should go back in and change. He looked sleek and sexy and dangerous. She felt like she should be heading out to teach Sunday school.
He looked up in surprise; then his face broke into a smile. He came the rest of the way to the top of the stairs. “I hope you’re not in that much of a rush to kick my ass.”
She brought her hands up and balled them into fists. “Too bad,” she teased, willing her heart to slow. “We’re starting with violence.”
“Yeah?” His expression shifted, his eyes bright and challenging. “Bring it.”
So she swung at him.
He brought a hand up to deflect her hit, which she expected. But he used her momentum to trap her wrist and pin her arm behind her back.
None of it hurt. And it put her chest right up against his, his face right above hers.
The chiffon was thin. She felt the line of his body matching her own. He had to be able to feel her heartbeat.
He smiled. “Now what are you going to do?”
“Gouge your eyes out with my keys.”
Hunter laughed. “I should have trapped both hands. I didn’t realize you’d be such a lethal date.”
“The night’s still young.”
“The pretty ones are always the most dangerous.” He reached up with his free hand and brushed a tendril of hair off her forehead. “And you look very, very pretty.”
That made her blush. He still hadn’t let her go, and she found her body relaxing into his. She rested her free hand on his shoulder. “This is nothing. Wait ’til you see Quinn.”
“So you’ll let me keep my eyes a little while?”
“Maybe.” She hoped she didn’t sound too breathless. “If you promise to be good.”
“I’ll try.” And he kissed her.
His mouth was soft, gentle. An innocent kiss. But the pretend fighting, the banter, the heat of his body—it lit her up like a live wire. Her lips parted and her hand tightened on his shoulder, sliding to his neck, pulling him closer.
