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Nor did shy. As evidenced now as he hooked a finger and pulled on the zipper to exam the damage, and in the process exposed a wonderfully curved backside where it dipped below her panty line. His eyes filled with the sight of her before letting the zipper go and having the panties snap back into place.
“Come on in.” He turned around and walked back into his apartment, controlling his male urge at the snatched look.
“So what has changing my mind about the dress got to do with my—what did you call it—connection to the universal system of proportion?”
“Propulsion,” he corrected. “The act of moving forward.”
“Whatever.”
“Well, without propulsion our universe would cease to exist. As humans, we have an inherent ability to be able to zap into this system when confronted with conflict. The greater that ability, the greater the connection with the universe.”
When he received no response, he looked over his shoulder and caught her eyes looking distant. His shoulders drooped as he quickly turned away. Retrieving his line of thought, he decided to try a different approach. “As humans, we are naturally motivated by conflict. It is a vital element of evolution. Without it, we are unable to move forward. Progress.”
“Oh-kay.”
“Therefore, no matter how much one may want to resist change, it is fundamentally conducive to growth.”
“Yes, well, I am certainly getting a lot of resistance here.” She yanked on her zipper, reminding him of her reason for being there.
“Ah, yes, resistance. The opposition or defiance of propulsion. Or in this case obstruction.”
“Daniel, please,” she groaned and motioned to her backside once again. “Could you help me out here?”
“Right.” He grimaced and turned his attention back to rummaging through some cupboards. It was a bad habit of his to dribble useless information whenever he got nervous. And women made him nervous. Especially beautiful women. And Sonya Elliott was as beautiful as they came.
“Do you think you can free it?”
“Don’t worry,” he said, then muttered under his breath, “You won’t keep your precious Tristan waiting.”
Though she must have heard for she smirked and gestured to her attire. “Do you think he’ll like it?”
“I’m sure.”
Sonya noticed he didn’t even bother glancing her way as he began pulling kitchen drawers out and searching for something.
She sighed with the smallest trace of disappointment. He wasn’t being very reassuring. She didn’t know why, but Tristan Manning got under her skin. Maybe it was because he was the only man she wanted and wasn’t able to snare. Two months now and all she could manage to gain from him was a wink now and then.
It frustrated her and, no doubt, made her infatuation with him stronger. If it were the last thing she did she would have that man groveling at her feet and, smiling smugly, possibly with his head between her—
“—panties?”
Sonya blinked. “What?”
Daniel held up a pair of scissors and asked, “I asked if you were keen on keeping those panties?”
“Oh. Well, actually, if at all possible,” she admitted with a wry grin. “I found them in a specialty shop in North York which, unfortunately, has since gone out of business.”
“Ah,” he said, adding sarcastically, “Don’t want to go to the interview without your lucky underwear.”
She gave a humorous snort. “Hardly. But you never know. Maybe after today—”
“No job is that important.”
“Oh, but this one is.” Her brows puckered as she pleaded for understanding. “His bar is about the only one in town that uses a live band instead of a DJ. This could finally be the break I need.”
“Did he promise you a chance to perform?” His words and tone of voice reminded her of a reprimanding father. She didn’t like it one bit. It had been a long time since she bothered to listen to anything her father had to say. Or ever would. Particularly on the subject of commitment.
Turning her back on him, she held out the zipper. “Can we get this over with? I’m going to be late.”
