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Shoving another spoonful of pie into her mouth, she covered the dish in plastic wrap with an efficiency that was borderline scary and placed it back in the fridge. When she spun around to face him, she staggered. Before he could blink, however, she caught herself on the counter and flashed him a blinding smile.
Holy. Shit. A wide grin consumed his face.
Roxie was wasted.
“A shot ski, you say?”
She nodded, and her eyes grew animated. How had he not recognized that cute, glassy, loopy look?
“What were the ladies shooting this evening? Whiskey?”
“Uh, no. And barf. These are theknittingladies, Joe. They don’t shoot straight whiskey.”
“Oh, pardon me,” he said. His sarcasm was lost on the drunkard. “Then what, pray tell, is the drink of choice for theknittingladies?”
“Washington Apple shots, of course. And yeah, there’s whiskey in it, but all the other stuff makes it taste like a Jolly Rancher.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. She was so damn cute. “And the Sylvester Stallone shot ski?”
“Mrs. Abbot won them at an auction. He signed them, too, so that was cool, but it’s not like you can put them on display or anything, right?” She shrugged. “So she had Mr. Abbot weld metal shot glasses to them. There’s four per ski, so they break them out at parties. I mean, who doesn’t love a friendly shot ski competition, am I right?”
Joe shook his head, dumbfounded by all parts of her explanation. “Okay. But why didn’t you call me to pick you up?”
She busied herself refolding the kitchen towel on the counter.
“Roxanne?”
Her head shot up. “Why don’t you ever call me Roxie? You always call me Rox or Roxanne. Why is that?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Because I’m the only one who gets to call you Roxanne.”
“True.” She pushed the towel aside and trailed her gaze down his body. Judging by the wicked gleam in her eyes, she liked what she saw.
The little voice in his head warned that she was up to something. When she got that look on her face, she wasalwaysup to something.
She sauntered toward him, and he held his breath.
“You know what, Joe?” She looped her arms around his shoulders. “You sure are yummy when you’re annoyed.”
All the blood in his brain rushed south. He uncrossed his arms, then gripped her hips to pull her flush against him. “Is that so, baby?”
“Yeah,” she said against his lips, raking her hands through his hair. “You do this broody thing that’s so hot. Makes me want to—”
His mouth crashed down on hers. Her lips parted at once, and their tongues explored. Moving his hands from her hips, he cupped her ass and lifted her. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, he turned them and pressed her back to the kitchen wall.
The smooth, soft skin of her neck drove him mad as he kissed along it.Damn. He couldn’t get enough. He wanted to taste every single inch of her. When she arched into him, a soft moan on her lips, he fought the urge to take her right then, right there.
Because she’d been drinking.Dammit.
“More, Joe,” she whispered, her legs tightening around him. “Please.”
He leaned his forehead against hers, heart racing.
Roxie’s hands smoothed over his face. “What’s wrong? Why did you stop?”
He let out a breath. “Baby, you’re drunk.”
“No, I’m not.” Her legs tightened even more, and her lips went to his neck as she rubbed herself against him like a cat. “I’m totally fine.”
