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He pushes the card forward again. “Okay, then I’ll buy the teddy and the knickers.”
“Why would you be buying me anything in this store, Harrison? Or any store for that matter?”
“Wishful thinking?”
“Are you asking if you’re ever going to see these on me?”
“I’m hopeful.” He is—his eyes, that grin that’s tipping into a smirk, and the confidence that’s always there in his body’s frame.
“It’s funny you say that when I didn’t know where we stood after this morning. You got the worst of me.” My gaze travels back to his black credit card just before she snatches it.
“On your card, sir?” she asks.
“I’m here, by the way. Standing right here and able to buy my own freaking overpriced underwear.”
Jerking back as though I insulted her, she says, “I think I’ll let you two work this out.”
As soon as she walks away, I say, “You do realize she’s hitting on you, right?” I shake my head in annoyance. “Like I’m not standing right here.”
“The best revenge,” he offers conspiratorially, “is to let me buy you these things like a good boyfriend. She’ll be none the wiser to our plan.”
“What plan is that? It’s underwear. She’ll probably think you’re bankrolling an affair. And definitely have no respect for me.”
“Why do you need her respect?”
Good question. “I don’t need it,” I lie. “I’m just saying—”
She returns, and I hush instantly like she might know we were talking about her. But then I say, “If you think paying for these things gives you automatic access to seeing them on me, you are—”
“The luckiest guy in Manhattan.” He slips his hands on my waist and around to my lower back, and I let him. I also let him kiss my neck and then my cheek. Because he’s not the only one who’s lucky today . . .
Turning to the saleswoman, I say, “He’s paying.”
My eyes close, and the feel of his lips on my body again has me giddy. Every time he kisses me, I feel sexy. Wanted. Yet not uncomfortable when he invades my space. That’s different from other guys I’ve seen more seriously and casually. Is he?
Now that we’ve staked claim so publicly for her to witness, she’s quick to speed this transaction along. At least she has the courtesy to hand me the bag.
As soon as we’re back on the sidewalk, he takes my hand as we start walking again. “What are you doing?” I ask, pulling away from him. “She can’t see us out here.”
“Is that what you think, Tatum?” So smirky this Sunday. Just goes to show how far good looks and a bankroll will get you in life. He’s confident, not to a fault but in a way that failure hasn’t quite shaped. Even outside, I catch the sun worshipping at his feet. “You think what we did inside and holding hands out here was for her?”
“Well, sure, but . . .” I’m actually not sure what to say, so I look back at the store, wondering if I’ve misread the situation.
“No buts, but let me ask you.”
I stare through the glass, but the saleswoman is nowhere to be found. “Wait a minute. Why do you get a but, but I don’t?”
“You just got one.” As the afternoon’s carried on, Harrison’s become decidedly more relaxed. Maybe champagne is his weakness.
Rolling my eyes, I slide my purse down to my elbow just so I can cross my arms over my chest. I never know how this will go with him, so it’s best to be prepared, and by that, I mean brace myself for anything. “Let’s move this along, shall we? What do you want to ask me?”
“What we did back there . . .” Looking down, he suddenly finds his shoes the most interesting thing around. I should be offended since I wouldn’t mind the honor, but him flipping from confident to coy in the matter of a few short back-and-forths is quite charming. Ugh. Fine, I find him the most fascinating thing around right now.
I can be honest with myself.
Lowering my arms to my sides, I take a step closer, and then another. I can appreciate how handsome he is even when I’m mad at him, but when I’m not so upset, he’s definitely a temptation. “Yeah?”
“How’d that feel for you?” He closes the gap, keeping the question between us despite the other people passing by in a hurry. “My hands on you, my arms around your body, holding you close, and kissing you without a care about who sees us. How’d that feel, Tate?”
Hearing him call me that name hasn’t bothered me since the morning I ran into him at Natalie’s, sort of like the man himself. In fact, both have grown on me tremendously. “I . . .” Now I feel shy. I force my head up just so I can look into his eyes. “I liked it.”
