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I study him as he orders, watching how his chiseled jaw moves when he speaks, how the stubble casts his face into shadow. The smallest little details paint a rugged, masculine picture I can’t take my eyes away from. Could that be why I notice things like tires? A truck is a truck, and I’d admire it for that alone, but with the right tires it becomes even more rugged and sexy. Oh God, now I’m romanticizing tires. Chris does the strangest things to me.
Chris hands the menus back to the waitress and fixes me with his stare, and I wonder for the millionth time what’s happening.
“I like talking to you,” he says. “I like looking at you, too, neither of which I can do freely around the office.”
“I cocked my head again, didn’t I?” I ask. Chris smiles. “Why do you like talking to me?”
“You make me think.”
“That’s hardly a unique skill. I’m sure lots of people make you think.”
“Yeah, but those people don’t look at me the way you do.” He stares at me intently.
“How do I look at you?” I lift my cup to my mouth while staring Chris down across the table.
“Like you want me to kiss you.”
I pause before the cup touches my lips, suddenly self-conscious of what my gaze might reveal. The waitress brings our food, giving me a much-needed opportunity to look at something other than Chris. He has my heart pounding and my head reeling. I take a bite of my omelet, suddenly grateful I opted for something easier to eat than my standard eggs benedict.
“Do you?”
“Do I what?” I take another bite to avoid answering.
“Want me to kiss you?” His gaze drifts to my lips.
“Why would you think that?” I ask cautiously.
“Because you’re staring at my mouth.”
“You’re staring at mine.”
“That’s because I want to kiss you.” He smirks.
I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. “What made you change your mind?”
“What?”
“You thought about kissing me in the car the other night, but you didn’t. Why?”
Now it’s his turn to be flustered. “I was trying to be a gentleman.”
“Bullshit. What’s the real reason?” I don’t know how I know he’s being evasive, but I do.
He hesitates, and for a moment I think I’m going to get another excuse. Then he shocks me by saying, “I told Charlie I wouldn’t.”
“You talked to Charlie about me?” I gasp. “That makes me seem so unprofessional. I can’t believe you.” I put my napkin on the table, ready to rise.
“It’s not like that,” Chris says. “Trust me, please. Sit down.” I sink cautiously back into my seat.
“I felt something the night we first met,” he begins. “I didn’t know what, but it made me want to see you again. Charlie must have sensed that. I think he was worried you’d get hurt, and he didn’t want to see that happen.”
“Why would he think I’d get hurt?”
“I don’t have a great history with relationships. Actually, I don’t usually make it to the relationship stage.” He runs his hand through his hair.
“So you’re afraid of relationships and Charlie wants to spare me from that?”
“That’s what Charlie thinks, yes.” He nods.
