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I recoil, almost as if his hand has scorched mine, which, in a way, I suppose it has.
More to break the tension than anything else, I trail a hand over the nearby young adult section and murmur, “Hello, lovers.”
Zack snorts.
“What?” I glare at him. “I suppose you’re going to make fun of me or call me a nerd right now. Right?”
“Why would I ever do that?”
“Maybe because you never missed a chance to make me feel like a loser back in high school.”
He steps toward me, pausing when there are only a couple of inches between us. Close enough for me to catch a whiff of his scent. It’s… simpler. More musky and natural, like pine and sandalwood. Not the scent I would have guessed for a pretty boy like him.
Despite myself, my belly does a little somersault. I’m all too aware there are other things working in his favor that I didn’t expect either. Like the fact that his shoulders are broader than I remember. As if he’s added weight training to his rounds of golf.
His jaw somehow clenches harder too. Maybe it’s an optical illusion courtesy of his tightly trimmed beard. And there’s a twinkle in his dark eyes that makes me wonder what exactly is going on inside that pretty head of his.
I shouldn’t find any of this appealing. He’s still Zack. The bane of my existence. Just because he’s kind of hot now, it doesn’t change anything.
Swallowing hard, I focus on his neck so I won’t be tempted to look at his lips.
He doesn’t let me for long.
“Samantha?”
I swallow hard. “What?”
“Look at me.”
“I am.”
Chuckling lightly, he slides a finger under my chin. He gently turns it up until I meet his gaze. My breath catches in my throat as I do.
Damn my libido.
“I never meant to make you feel like a loser.”
I blink at him. Is… Is he apologizing? “Oh.”
So much for my powers of speech. They seem to have left me along with my ability to not be attracted to him.
He nods slowly, then his eyes narrow slightly. As if he’s studying me like I’m the SAT prep book the day before test day. “Can I ask you something?”
I moisten my suddenly dry lips. “Sure.”
“Do you get Botox?”
My spine straightens and I take a step back. His hand falls between us and I glare up at him.
I don’t know why I’m surprised. “Some people never change.”
Now it’s his turn to look surprised. “What do you mean? It was a simple question.”
“It was a rude question.”
“I was paying you a compliment.” He runs his hand through his hair and—for a second—I wonder if he really does feel bad.
Then again, he’s Zack. He probably feels bad about being snapped at rather than offending me.
