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“So tell me then,” she said coyly, playing dumb and linking her arm through his.

For a second she thought she caught something that looked like disdain flicker behind his glasses, but the expression passed and he gave a slow smile. “Mitchell Forbes.”

“Mitchell? Not Mitch?”

“No. Not Mitch.”

Of course not. Nicknames are soooo plebian.

“I’m Julie Greene.”

“Yes, I’m aware.”

She wasn’t surprised. Half the p

eople at the fund-raiser knew who she was. Julie paused, bringing them both to a stop. “You know, Mitchell Forbes, for someone who knows my name and sought me out of the crowd to buy me a free drink, you certainly don’t seem all that interested in conversation.” Or being charming.

He flushed slightly and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”

“Talking?”

His dimples flickered. “Talking to women. I just came out of a two-year relationship. My flirtation skills are rusty.”

“Lucky for you, mine are not.”

“I can see that.”

Julie’s brow furrowed. She was used to men who were more … well, admiring. And despite the fact that he’d found her across a crowded room, he didn’t seem all that enamored. It had been a while since she’d dealt with a man who wasn’t nearly as well versed in the dating game as she was.

Say the right things, damn it, she silently ordered him.

She tried again to strike the right chord. “We don’t have to leave if you’re not ready. There’s an exhibit on the fifth floor that I absolutely love.”

His lip gave the tiniest curl of horror. No surprise there. She’d yet to meet a man who could tolerate modern art for more than thirty minutes.

“Actually, I’m sort of over the crowds and I haven’t eaten yet,” he replied. “Can I put the drink money toward buying you dinner?”

Finally.

“I’d love that.” She curled her fingers just slightly around the forearm she was still touching, but he merely pulled his arm away.

She almost laughed. They were like two kids pushed together by the prom chaperones with absolutely no feel for each other. Always a step out of sync.

Neither spoke as they fetched her coat and headed out the door.

“You like Guinness?” he asked gruffly as they walked into the late spring air.

“Love it,” she lied. She wasn’t really a beer girl unless she was on a boat in a bikini on the hottest days of summer. But she knew how this worked. Playing the high-maintenance card this early in the game would never get her a second date.

And it certainly wouldn’t get her that story.

Mitchell led her to a small Irish bar that she’d never heard of and opened the door for her.

“Thanks,” she murmured. He put his hand on the small of her back to guide her inside, and Julie froze.

Uh-oh. She’d been wrong about them not having any chemistry. Very wrong. The brief brush of his fingers against her spine gave her immediate goose bumps, and Julie had to resist the urge to turn and run. Being attracted to Mitchell was not part of the plan, yet here she was, quivering and wanting to rub against him.

Mayday, mayday! I want to hump my story subject!

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