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“And that’s the great thing about the law, you know?” It was a question, but Victor didn’t wait for her to respond, barreling into a story about how many billable hours he’d racked up over the past year. Ellie smiled and nodded, staring vacantly at his constantly moving mouth. He really was attractive. Swoopy blond hair, strong jaw, nice teeth. Tall. Big hands. All things she typically liked, but Victor was so incredibly self-absorbed that his personality ruined the entire package. With the right costume, he could’ve done a fair impression of Westley from The Princess Bride. Until he opened his mouth, at least. He’d dominated the conversation over dinner as well, and even though Lauren had valiantly tried to steer the conversation back into more inclusive waters, her efforts had been in vain. By the end of the meal, Ellie had given up trying to participate in the conversation, sitting back to enjoy her dinner and the party around her while Trevor kept shooting her apologetic smiles.
“Don’t you think?” Victor asked, touching her arm.
Almost unconsciously, she shrugged and moved her arm away from him. “Uh huh. Yep.” She nodded and he looped an arm around her and pulled her toward him. She took a step back and scanned the room, praying for Lauren or Trevor or someone to come bail her out. She’d already used the ladies’ room excuse. Twice. He reached for her hand and she moved it away, brushing an imaginary piece of lint off her dress.
“You know what I like about running Crossing the Streams?” she asked, changing the subject.
He took a sip of his scotch and squinted at her, as though he were unsure what to do now that the conversation had moved away from his interests. “That you get to do what most people would consider a hobby for a living?”
She frowned, opening and closing her mouth, not knowing what to say, when suddenly a strong arm slid around her waist. Her mouth went dry and her stomach exploded with butterflies as she found herself hip-to-hip and face-to-face with Matt. Matt, who had traded his tan police uniform for a dark blue suit, paired with a light blue shirt and silver tie that emphasized the startlingly bright blue of his eyes. A smile creased his face, and the nerve endings in her body buzzed with awareness as he pulled her a little closer and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. Spots danced in front of her eyes, and she willed her body to behave. It was amazing, the sharp contrast in the way she responded to Matt’s touch compared to Victor’s. It was like comparing chocolate to cabbage; both were food, but that’s where the similarities ended.
“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Matt winked at her, leaving his arm around her waist, which was just fine with her. She steeled herself against swaying into him and running her hands over his wide chest, which seemed to be what every single cell in her body wanted her to do.
Victor frowned and pointed a finger at Matt. “You know him?”
A lightness filled her and she smiled at Victor. “I do. This is Matt, and I owe him a drink.” She turned her gaze to Matt, whose fingers flexed into her waist, just slightly, and heat curled over her hips and down her thighs.
He held up the half-empty beer glass in his free hand. “I already have a drink, but I’ll take a dance.” He tipped his head at Victor. “It was nice meeting you.” Without waiting for Victor’s response, he led her away through the crowd and toward the dance floor. He deposited his beer on a passing waiter’s tray before spinning her into him, tightening his arm around her waist and scooping up her hand in his. Tentatively, she slid her tingling palm up his arm and over his shoulder as her mind spun, scrambling for something to say. God, he made her feel so . . . so what?
Hot. And bothered. Like she was going to jump out of her skin. Anxious and nervous, but in a deliciously exhilarating way.
“So that’s twice now,” she managed, trying not to stare at his face, at the way the shadows danced over his cheekbones and jaw. He had short, dark-blond hair, stick straight, thick, and soft looking, which had been hidden under his police hat earlier that day.
He dipped his head down so he could hear her better, and the desire to bury her face in his neck nearly overwhelmed her. He smelled so good, like pine and warmth and man. A throb she hadn’t felt in a long time pulsed between her legs.
“Twice what?” He arched an eyebrow.
“That you’ve bailed me out. Are snowbanks and blind dates your specialty?”
“Just doing my job, miss.” He winked at her again and her anxiety ratcheted up another notch as the realization that he was exactly the type of guy she’d promised herself she was going to avoid pushed into her brain. Ridiculously good looking. Stupidly charming.
But she couldn’t resist flirting with him. “Is this the serving part or the protecting part?”
“Little of both. Protecting you from boredom while serving my own interests.” The upbeat Frank Sinatra tune faded into a much slower one, Ella Fitzgerald’s voice floating over the crowd.
“And what exactly are your interests?” Because surely Matt wasn’t really interested in her. God knew she’d be better off if he wasn’t, because he was not safe. Sweet as he seemed, he was exactly the type who would leave her feeling empty and alone. Lacking and insufficient. He was too hot, too charming, too . . . everything for her.
The corners of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “You, Ellie, are my main interest right now.” He lowered his head even further, and his breath brushed across her ear as he spoke. “I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw you here tonight.”
Her pulse pounded in her ears, blood rushing through her veins as a surge of adrenaline shook her to her core. “What do you mean?”
“Digging your car out, I dreamt up a whole bunch of different ways to ask you out.”
“You did?” She couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice. She thought she’d felt a connection, but she’d been unsure, and a surge of victory charged through her, inflating her confidence and chasing away some of her anxiety. God, he seemed so damned sincere. “What stopped you?”
He looked away, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. A hint of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on chased across his features, disappearing as quickly as it had come. He exhaled through his nose and smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not very professional to hit on ladies stranded at the side of the road.”
She nodded slowly. “But hitting on ladies stranded on a disastrous blind date is peachy keen?”
He leaned back, humor dancing in his eyes. “Peachy keen?”
“Um . . .” It was all she could come up with before his lips brushed across her cheek, sending sparks shooting through her. His fingers teased along the small of her back, and pleasure flared all the way up her spine to the base of her skull.
Oh, God, was she in trouble.
* * *
Matt’s conscience screamed at him to hit the brakes. What the hell did he think he was doing? He’d swooped in, stolen her away from her date and was now dancing with her, holding her warm, soft body against his and wondering how long he had to wait to kiss her. Midnight was still a couple of hours away, and he didn’t know if he could hold out that long. Pressed against her as he was, inhaling her scent of vanilla and cinnamon, he seriously doubted it. He closed his eyes briefly, stuffing down the urge to kiss her neck.
