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“I don’t hate bunnies,” he says a little too forcefully. Then suddenly, he bursts into peals of laughter. “I never even thought about it. That’s from a book, right?”
Oh my god.
We pull up to a gated community where he punches in a code that I quickly memorize over his shoulder.
“I change my code every week, just so you know,” Gunther says.
He drives through the gate, and I face forward. “It’s an automatic response. I like to remember codes and numbers.”
Gunther lets out the cutest grunt ever. “That’s handy.”
I shrug. “What can I say? I’m a handy girl to have around.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“You’d be surprised what you can hack into just by knowing someone’s date of birth. People are stupid with their personal info. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.”
Gunther lets out a “Humph. Agree on all of the above.”
I tease, “We have something in common. So romantic.”
I expect him to curb my flirty behavior, laugh, or play it off somehow. But he says nothing. His chest rises and falls evenly. Too evenly. I’m dying to see him out of his suit. Not naked, of course. Why did my brain go there? In normal clothes. A tee shirt and jeans. Obviously, not naked. He’s not my type. And what is my type?
Well, the last guy I fell for didn’t bother to check on me after I got pushed down at that protest last year. It was Dahlia who’d brought me to the E.R. to get stitches on my forehead. It was Uncle Logan who came to check on me at the hospital, and who paid the bill in full when I stubbornly said I’d pay in installments through the hospital’s finance plan rather than use inheritance money.
We pull up to a nondescript brick house on a leafy street. The area has tasteful landscaping and well-kept sidewalks. A woman in her 60s is walking a little white Westie near the driveway where we pull in.
I move to unbuckle, but Gunther reaches over and presses his hand over mine. “I do that. I unbuckle you. Try to remember that, and we’ll get along a lot better.”
I glare indignantly, yet inside, I’m electrified at his rough hand on mine. I blink at him, noticing how close he is. If I leaned forward a few inches, we’d be kissing. Instead, I blink slowly and give him my heavy-lidded look. “Ooh,” I purr. “So forceful. Are you gonna handcuff us together?”
His jaw is doing so much work that I feel it in my panties. Which is crazy because I’m not even attracted to this man.
Finally, he takes off his sunglasses, and my stupid mouth gasps. His ice-blue eyes are lined with crow’s feet. Gunther is older than I thought, and why does that fact make my nipples prick? He has a smattering of gray hair at his temples that matches the gray in his eyes. His lashes are longer than mine, and he’s got sinful bedroom eyes far more enticing than I was prepared for.
He’s on to me and not falling for my pretend flirting. Or he is falling for it and putting up a tough guy act.
Either way, I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.
“Don’t tempt me,” he says.
My lips part, but no words come out. I don’t even know what I was about to say. I internally scan my body’s reaction when he comes around to open the passenger door. His arm brushes my stomach below my navel when he reaches to unbuckle my belt, and excitement surges through me.
I flatten my body against the passenger seat, trying to minimize contact with him. And yet his spicy scent hits my nostrils, doing crazy things to my lady parts.
I step out onto the driveway and wobble on my feet. He catches my elbow and looks down at me with concern. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I breathe.
My traitor stomach tells on me and growls loudly.
“Stay here,” he orders.
I watch as he gets my bags, laptop, and the crate then unfastens the car carrier containing Chutney.
I hold my hand out, but he ignores me. He cannot ignore the woman with the white dog, however, who is waving at him, eyes bright and her face stretched in a wide smile.
His hands full, we make our way up to his door.
