“No problem.” He moved a little closer and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
“Okay. Well…” Small puffs of air fell from between those lips of hers. Lips he wanted to taste. Lips he would taste if he was smart about things. If he was patient.
“So what time should I pick you up? And when is the best night?”
Those green eyes of hers opened wide, and he enjoyed the surprise that lit them up to a luminous shade of moss.
“Excuse me?”
He moved an inch closer, which left him with only another inch or so to go and he’d be all up in her business.
“The you-and-me thing. I want to continue that conversation.” He bent forward—just a bit—and held his breath.
“Regan?” He waited for her to answer, inhaling that sweet scent that he’d noticed before. It had to be her hair. He was dying to get his hands into it.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Her voice lowered, barely a whisper, and that sexy-as-hell rasp did all sorts of things to him. If she looked down, no way would she miss the erection he currently sported. It had been years since a woman could do this to him without even trying.
Wyatt leaned even closer, so that his mouth was nearly touching her right ear. “Why don’t we try it and see? I’ll pick you up Wednesday night.”
“I’m at the hospital on Wednesdays.”
“Okay.” Wyatt took a step back. “What time Thursday?”
At first he thought she wasn’t going to answer him. She reached for her car door and then paused. “You want to take me out on a date.”
“Straight-up date.”
“With me, the woman you think is snobby, prickly, and defensive.”
“Yep. That’s the one.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I asked nicely?” He offered up the smile his mother had told him was dangerous. The smile that had seduced many a woman.
She slid inside her car and stared out the windshield for a few seconds. “I’ll probably regret it.”
“I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t.”
She muttered something under her breath, but he didn’t catch it. Regan started her car and, without looking at him, spoke. “I’ll be ready at six.”
“I’ll be there.” He closed her door and watched her drive away.
Wyatt whistled a tune as he headed back to his truck, a wicked grin touching his face as he headed for his brother’s place.
Things were finally looking up. Date night with Regan Thorne. Hell had truly frozen over.
Chapter 8
“Sorry I’m late.” Regan kissed her mother on the cheek and handed over a bottle of red wine.
“Carly and her parents are in the kitchen with your father.” Katherine Thorne closed the door behind Regan, and Regan slipped out of her coat. It was Sunday evening, and her friend was leaving in the morning, headed back to California, so her mother had invited them for dinner.
Sunday night get-togethers were a tradition in the Thorne household, and the only excuse her mother would accept for missing it was one of the apocalyptic nature. Or, for Regan, if she was called in to the hospital.
In an era where most people led hectic lives, connected by mobile phones and other devices, it was something Regan looked forward to. Something that reminded her family was the most important thing and always should be.
“Are Violet and Adam here yet?”