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Hunter Rhodes stood there in a burgundy shirt that hugged his muscled torso, a black leather jacket that screamed sexy bad boy, a wide belt that drew my gaze down toward the forbidden zone of his crotch, which he filled out nicely…
I tried to jerk my gaze away but was drawn to his thick thighs and long legs, all the way down to his polished boots.
When I managed to look him in the eyes, I expected to see a smug smirk, but instead his gaze was warm as he said, “Hey, Clark, you look great.”
“Told you!” Maisie called from my dining room.
I winced and grabbed my coat from the hook on the wall, then hustled out the door, pushing Mookie back with a foot before closing it behind me.
“Cute dog,” Hunter said. “You have a roommate?”
“Just a nosy friend from school. She tricked me with wine and then insisted on helping me get ready.” I waved my hand at the outfit before closing my coat over it.
“Ah, then she did a nice job.” Hunter’s gaze lingered on my throat. “It’s strange seeing you without the bowtie though.”
My hand flew to my throat. “I know, right?”
He reached out and pulled my hand down. “Don’t hide that sexy neck, baby.”
My face heated with a fast blush, and Hunter laughed lightly. “Well, this is going to be fun. I wonder how many times I can make you blush tonight.”
“Don’t even think about it,” I warned. “It would not be gentlemanly.”
He smiled softly and took my hand in his, seemingly oblivious to what it did to me. “Well, we can’t have that. Let me escort you properly.”
We walked to his car—not a hearse—and Hunter opened the door before I slid in. When he got behind the wheel, he apologized for the odor of French fries that hung in the air.
“My last date’s car smelled like dead things and flowers. This is an improvement, trust me.”
Hunter threw his head back and laughed, and damn, he had a sexy neck too.
“Let’s go put on a good show.”
As he shifted the car into gear and pulled out, tossing me a flirty smile, I could only think that this was going to be a very long night. Not a bad one, but one that would wreak havoc on my nerves, my willpower, and my poor neglected libido.
Hunter’s fun was my torment, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything. When else would I get a chance to openly flirt with the guy of my forbidden dreams?
* * *
HUNTER
The Dinner Bellwas a bit unique in that it was once a relatively small schoolhouse that had been bought and converted into a restaurant. It was named for the bell that still hung suspended in a tower over its roof.
It was also the place for romance in Granville, so naturally, our fake date had to take place there. No one would think we were just friends dining together—or even just casual dates. It would get us the most bang for our buck.
It felt surreal to walk a man up to the hostess and endure her surprised stare. Apparently, Nana’s gossip could only do so much to convince people in this town that Clark and I could be an item. I reached for his hand, threading our fingers. “We have a reservation under Hunter Rhodes.”
“Right, yes. We’ve got you down.” She smiled wide. “I didn’t know you’d be with Mr. Fletcher.”
“Hi, Tara,” he said with a polite smile. “Twenty points extra credit if you don’t bring this up at school.”
She laughed. “I can’t turn down that deal. I could use help in case I blow the essay on Athenian democracy.”
“Not likely,” he said. “You’re one of my best students.”
She glowed under his praise. Clark had a way of making all his students feel incredibly special. He did it for Toby too. Hell, he did it for me sometimes when I got insecure about my parenting. But I wondered who made him feel special? I’d seen by his discomfort at his grandmother’s house that he wasn’t accustomed to receiving praise of his own. Each compliment yielded an embarrassed stammer or blush.
He was so confident and passionate in his teaching, but I suspected Clark was more insecure in other areas of his life, and that was a shame. He really had nothing to be self-conscious about. He looked damn good as he shed his coat, good enough that if I were into men, I had no doubt I’d want to see the slender, tight frame that the silky fabric of his shirt hid, not to mention the pert ass his jeans cupped as if to draw my gaze directly there.
