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Where the hell had that come from? Honey slowly exhaled, her nostrils flaring as a fresh wave of Nash infiltrated her body. Holy mother of God. Wrong thing to do.
“Who says I’m looking?” she replied haltingly. “There are other ways to get a…a good scalp massage.”
“What if you’ve run out of batteries?” Was that a wink? He was having as much fun with this as Honey. “For the scalp massage thingy.”
She hid a smile. “Then I might have to go looking for the real deal.”
“What qualifications does this real deal need?”
She took a step back, suddenly overwhelmed with sensation and thought and feeling a whole bunch of things she wasn’t ready to deal with. For a lot of reasons. One, the man standing in front of her—the one who had her lady parts singing Halle-freaking-lujah—was her boss. Any kind of interaction between the two of them had to remain strictly professional. Anything else would lead to trouble, and she didn’t have time for trouble. Especially the kind of trouble that could lose her, her job.
She needed to be in Crystal Lake for as long as it took to do what it was she’d come here for.
And secondly? She squeezed her eyes shut. Christ, who was she kidding? She couldn’t think straight enough to come up with another reason other than the one screaming in her left ear. The one saying, this man is danger, and you’d best get out of his way.
“Short,” she managed to say clearly.
“What was that?” His voice was lower, and the alarm bells ringing inside her head picked up steam.
“Short.” She gave herself a mental shake. “I like short men.”
“Really.” He inched closer.
She nodded. “Balding and a bit of a gut.”
A half smile touched his face, and he patted his flat stomach. “Damn.”
“Maybe a bit of an overbite.”
His smile widened, revealing even white teeth that would make any dentist proud.
Exhilarated, she squared her shoulders, suddenly enjoying the game. “And glasses.”
His eyebrows shot up at that. “Big thick ones?”
Again, she nodded. “Goggles.”
“Big hands, though?”
“What?” Her mind was buzzing, and she didn’t follow.
“Well, for the hair washing and all. You’d want someone with big hands.”
“Of course.” Jeez. Could she sound any more like a fifteen-year-old on her first date?
“Sounds nothing like me.” He paused and flashed that grin again. “Except for the big hands.”
Was it the Jack Daniels that loosened her tongue? The beer she’d downed right after? Or the lack of sleep that had been plaguing her for days? Whatever it was, she didn’t dwell on it. She looked up into Nash Booker’s eyes and licked her lips, practically tasting him on her skin.
“No. Nothing at all like you.”
He pouted like a kid, and she struggled not to cross her legs and alleviate some of the pressure there.
“That makes me sad.”
“Somehow I doubt it.” She licked her lips, a reaction to just how close he was now. Hell, she could count his lashes. See the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. Smell that intoxicating maleness.
