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He could hear the smile in her voice. “Mitzi must have googled places to get bonbons. She knows I like them.”
“I know you like them,” Harper tossed back with a shot of her signature sass, and he was grateful for the shift in her mood.
Not to mention, the purr of her voice had him rocking a semi.
Was she messing with him?
“Or,” she continued, “your manager wants to get me good and sugared up before she makes me sign a stack of divorce papers.”
He studied her profile as the sun lit her in a golden glow. “Is that what you want?”
She pulled into a parking spot in front of the bakery, then cut the ignition. She pegged him with her chameleon gaze. Her eyes had darkened. The blue edged out the brown, and the flecks of green and gold looked ready to ignite. “Isn’t that what you want, heartthrob?”
What did he want?
Unable to stop, he twisted one of her chocolate locks of hair around his finger. “There’s what I want, and then there’s what I can have.”
He hadn’t meant to say it, but Harper could strip his defenses with one look.
She edged forward, assessing him with those chameleon eyes. “They’re not the same?”
Don’t say another word. Stop talking.
But she tempted him.
What if he could pretend that nothing else mattered?
No fans, no shaky career, no responsibilities, no personal issues. Just the two of them, living from one dare to the next, pushing life’s limits.
It could never happen.
He needed to get his head and his heart on the same page.
But that was easier said than done.
His gaze dropped to her lips—lips he’d kissed and licked. Lips that appeared in his dreams. Lips that had wrapped around his—
Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk!
Who was knocking on the car’s window?
He released her lock of hair, and in the space of a breath, they pulled apart like horny teens caught making out.
Is that what had been about to happen?
He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t want to kiss her.
He regained his bearings, then peered out the window and saw—
“Who’s that woman, and what’s Madelyn doing here?” Harper whispered.
Good questions.
With her red scarf billowing in the breeze, the nanny matchmaker stood next to Mitzi. The women stared into the car for a second, then two, before his manager scowled.
“Are you getting out, LB? I’ve got a flight back to LA in an hour.”
“That’s my manager,” he said, glancing at Harper.
