“Well, gotta admit, a three-week marriage does seem pretty bad.”
“It was almost six weeks actually,” he said, his voice lacking any inflection. But his easy grin faded.
“You still did better than me,” she said, making her own tone brighter in denial of the flatness of his. Funny, she’d used his quickie marriage and divorce to dismiss him, but the tense expression he wore while discussing his ex almost made her jealous.
Maybe he wasn’t such a player after all.
“I didn’t even make it to the altar,” she added, registering his silence.
“Neither did Darla and me. We went to the JP. Justice of the Peace,” he said at her curious expression.
“Oh. I thought you’d gone to Vegas.” She didn’t really think that, but she wanted him to smile again. He didn’t seem like Brad without the semi-permanent grin.
“You have lots of thoughts about me, apparently. Most of them wrong.”
“Maybe I’m a presumptuous bitch.” Again she scratched her calf with her toes. Except this time she knew exactly where his gaze would go, and the idea didn’t disturb her as much as it had a few minutes ago.
Sunstroke maybe? It was awfully hot out here. Or could they have actually forged some sort of bond over broken relationships?
Some sort of platonic bond. Because, seriously, she wasn’t going there. Not with Kim’s little…err, younger brother.
Normally she didn’t have a problem with making a decision and sticking to it. But lately ping-pong matches had nothing on the wishy-washy flip-flopping she was doing in her own damn mind.
“Or maybe you want me to think you are so I lose interest.”
“Are you admitting you have interest?” she tossed back, wondering where Kim had disappeared to. Her friend had run to the store around the block. What could possibly be taking so long?
He leaned forward and snagged her free hand, dragging it to…what? He wasn’t really going to put her hand on his—
Yep, he was. Oh my God. She had her hand on her best friend’s brother’s sizable erection, and her fingers were all but twitching with the urge to wrap around him.
No. Absolutely not. Heat radiated through thin cotton, an undeniable temptation. If anything, he grew even harder.
“Take a breath,” he advised, his lopsided grin again overtaking his face. “For such a woman of the world, a man’s hard cock shouldn’t be all that big of a deal.”
“It is when my hand’s on it. Where the hell is your sister?” She tried to tug back, weakly, but his grip held fast. She really didn’t tug that much. Her palm didn’t mind its current location at all.
“Why? Scared?”
“Hardly. Let go.”
He did at once, shrugging. “You asked a question. I always preferred show to tell.”
Sara let her hand drop in her lap and willed it to stop tingling. “I’m going to call Kim,” she said, already pressing the speed dial button with the thumb of the hand that still clutched her phone.
“Gonna tell on me?”
In spite of herself, she laughed. “No.”
“Because you didn’t mind?”
The hopeful note in his voice made her laugh again, more softly. He was a difficult guy not to like. Really like. “She’s your sister.”
“No way. I was hoping that producer from Maury Povich was wrong.” His smirk jolted through her, reigniting the flare of arousal she’d tried to suppress.
“Funny guy.”
“Sexy girl.” He walked his fingertips up the inside of her thigh, not straying too far from her knee. His gaze probed hers. “I’m good at other things besides making people laugh. If you’re ever up for finding that out firsthand, you know where to find me.”