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Grabbing her purse, she pressed her palm to his cheek, rubbed it over the rough stubble and gave him a quick kiss on the lips—keeping it short, but sweet.
She fluttered her eyelashes as she drew back. ‘Why thank you, Rhett. My naked bum is now safe from unwanted attention.’
But as her hand dropped from his face, he snagged her wrist, and the light in his eyes darkened. ‘How about I give it some wanted attention? Back here. Tonight?’
Even though she’d prepared herself for the request, her breathing slowed, her heart thumping harder against her ribs as his thumb stroked her wrist. ‘We can’t, Carter. This isn’t going to happen again.’
‘That’s a shame. When we both enjoy it so much.’
She could hardly argue with that, given that her pulse was currently doing the foxtrot under his stroking thumb.
His eyebrow lifted. ‘Do you have a reason, or am I gonna have to guess what it is?’
She pulled her wrist free, and gripped the strap of her bag. ‘I just don’t want this turning into a...a...’ What? ‘A thing.’
‘A thing, huh?’ He ducked his head, and ran a finger across his bottom lip, as if considering her response, but she could see he was struggling to suppress a grin. ‘You’re gonna have to tell me why a thing would be a problem.’ His eyes lit with amusement. ‘Because I’ve gotta tell you, I think we’ve already got a thing going here. It certainly felt like a hell of a thing last night.’
She clamped down on her temper, because with temper came heat, and she knew he’d exploit that straight away. ‘A thing would be a problem,’ she said patiently, ‘because a thing can so easily turn into a fling.’
‘O-kay.’ He nodded sagely. ‘And a fling is bad because...?’ He gestured with his hand as if encouraging her to continue.
‘You’re not taking this seriously.’ There was a limit to how patient she could be when he was deliberately taking the Mickey.
‘Ya think?’ He took her hand, linked his fingers through hers—that aggravating grin still firmly in place. ‘That’s because you’re taking it way too seriously, Gina. All we’re talking about here is great sex.’ His thumb did that sizzling thing again, pressing into the palm of her hand. He gave her a little tug and kissed her. The touch of his lips oddly tender, behind the usual heat. ‘There’s no need to get your new panties in a twist. Okay, sugar?’
‘Carter! You...’ She huffed out a laugh. The cheeky comment and the tempting kiss making her temper dissolve into something liquid and warm.
Good heavens, the man really was dangerous. If she couldn’t even stay mad at him when she needed to.
She slapped a hand on his chest, to wrench herself away from that handsome face, those tempting lips, and the wicked promise in his eyes. ‘I have to shoot. Thanks for the panties.’
He let her go, and remained silent as she rushed to the door, far too aware of the soft lace stretching over her moist sex. But as she left the room without risking a backward glance she knew she hadn’t finished their fling—or thing, or whatever the heck it was—quite as quickly or cleanly or concisely as she had intended.
And that was a definite worry.
Much more of a worry, though, was the intoxicating spurt of endorphins that accompanied the thought.
SEVEN
Gina stepped off the cobblestone street into the exclusive bridal boutique nestled under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass. Rails full of fanciful white and ivory dresses crowded the front of the shop, but she could already hear the musical lilt of female laughter from the back of the store. Reese appeared in her usual pristine comb
o of skinny designer jeans and a chic
fitted blouse, her hair pinned up in an unfussy chignon and with a champagne flute full of what Gina hoped was something alcoholic in her hand.
‘Late as usual. Where have you been? The start time was eleven a.m. prompt, not—’ she shot a look at the gold watch on her wrist ‘—quarter to twelve.’
Gina opened her mouth to deliver the white lie she’d been working on during the cab ride to the hip-and-happening Brooklyn neighbourhood when Reese simply waved her hand and passed her the flute. ‘Don’t bother, I can take a wild guess. I just hope he was worth it.’
‘Good to know I’m that transparent,’ Gina remarked dryly, taking a healthy sip of the fruity mimosa to cover the tremor in her fingers and project her usual cool. Reese didn’t know about her new leaf, so she’d probably just assume last night had been another of her casual hook-ups. Which of course it was, she corrected herself smoothly. Completely casual.
Reese grinned and looped her arm through Gina’s to lead her to the back of the shop. ‘I know a well-screwed look when I see one.’
Gina spluttered, the second sip hitting her larynx. Was it that obvious?
‘Why, Gina?’ Reese stopped to study her.
Heat leached into Gina’s cheeks.
