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“Oh, yeah? So, what does that imply?”
“I think you know.” She lifted herself slightly and placed her lips right on the cleft in his chin.
“You missed,” he breathed.
She tilted her head back and shook her head. “Guess I need practice.”
This time she kissed him—full-on, sexy, wet kissing. It didn’t last long, but it got her point across. This wasn’t about a tour of his house. This was about a tour of…other things.
“I’m willing to be your test subject. For, you know, practicing the whole kissing thing.”
Mary Paige couldn’t believe how bold she was being, but Brennan seemed to appreciate it. And something about the way he looked at her with those lips tilted up and pleasure pooling in his eyes emboldened her further.
“Well, should we get it on now or wait until after dinner?”
He opened his mouth to respond but the doorbell sounded. “Dinner.”
“Okay, so dinner first?”
“No, I meant that’s dinner at the door,” he said, pulling away from her and walking toward the living room. “By the way, I, like, adore Chinese food. It’s actually better that way.”
She grabbed her liquid courage and followed him into the living room, standing on the jute rug as she admired the backside he presented on the way to the door. “I’m good with cold Chinese food, too.”
When he opened the door, a frazzled-looking delivery girl stood there, balancing two white bags from someplace called Moon Wok. “Really?”
“No, I prefer mine hot, but I could be persuaded to try it cold,” she said, sinking onto the leather sofa and contemplating the huge cypress stump that had been converted into a coffee table. Clever idea…for the furniture and the name of the Chinese place.
She could hear the laughter in Brennan’s voice as he paid the delivery person and something in his tone made her feel nearly content in a possible oncoming anxiety attack situation.
Brennan dumped the take-out boxes on the coffee table, disappeared, and came back holding the glass he’d left in the kitchen. “So, it’s pretty warm right now. You sure you want to have it cold?”
Loaded question. “Maybe.”
He sank onto the couch and grabbed a control. After he pushed a gazillion buttons the sound of the clarinet filled the room. “Coltrane,” he said.
“Oh.”
“You like jazz?”
“Not really, but it sounds nice.”
“Coltrane’s my seduction music,” he said with a grin, before opening the first steaming take-out carton. “Like onJerry Maguire.I never forgot that the nanny dude recommended it for sexy times.”
“It does sound sort of sexy,” she said, eyeing the offerings. “So, food first?”
Brennan turned to her. “You’re acting like having sex is akin to a doctor’s appointment. So why don’t we enjoy the wine, the music, and the lo mein then see what happens?”
“Because then I’ll have major garlic breath,” she said.
“But we both will, so who cares?”
He was right. She was treating this like some have-to thing, and she didn’t have to do anything. Brennan may have a reputation, but he was also a gentleman. He knew she wanted him. And she was certain the feeling was mutual if that bike ride earlier had been any indicator. So why sweat it?
“Lo mein?” he said, holding out a container.
She looked at it. “My stomach feels too nervous.”
Brennan sat the carton on the coffee table before turning to her. “Okay, let’s do this already.”
