You’re not his type, Brenna. Flat chest and brown hair isn’t his thing.
“I know it’s not something you notice, Tyler, but underneath my ski gear, I’m a woman.” The hurt made her snappier than she’d ever been with him before. “I go on dates. I have feelings.” And those feelings were so raw, so close to the surface, it was beginning to scare her.
His fingers tightened on her arm. “I know you’re a woman.” He spoke through clenched teeth. “I notice.”
“Do you?”
It was a question she’d never asked before. A topic neither of them had ever broached.
They stared at each other, and she knew that by speaking up, by saying those few words, she’d crossed an invisible line.
Their bodies were close but not quite touching, her awareness of him so acute she could hardly breathe. If she took one more step she’d be pressed against that hard, powerful body, and she wanted it more than anything. Wanted every sexy bad-boy inch of him. She wanted to breathe in the male scent of him, be crushed under his weight, be tangled up with him.
All she could think of was sex. Her head was filled with it, and her senses were on fire.
She turned her head and looked at his hand, still locked around her arm. They rarely, if ever, made physical contact, and she stared down at those strong fingers and imagined how they’d feel against her bare flesh. He’d be skilled, she knew that.
But she was never going to find out exactly how skilled, was she?
She waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. Instead he stared at her, his breathing shallow.
He was obviously trying to work out why someone like Josh would want to date her.
She wished she could go back to bed and start the whole day again. “I need to go,” she said wearily but instead of letting her go, Tyler tightened his grip.
“He asked you to dinner, but you told him no, right?”
Her heart pumped. “I told him yes.” Suddenly, she was tired of it. Tired of being told what she should and shouldn’t do. Tired of keeping her mouth shut when her mind was shouting out loud. “He’s picking me up eight o’clock Tuesday.”
CHAPTER NINE
“TEQUILA. STRAIGHT UP.” Brenna thumped her head down on the bar and missed the look Kayla sent Élise.
“You heard the woman.” Kayla winked at Pete, the barman. “Give us the bottle and three glasses. This is girls’ night. We’re celebrating.”
“I’m not celebrating. I’m commiserating.”
“Who with?”
“Myself.” Brenna lifted her head and dug her fingers in her hair. “Forget the glass. Pour it straight down my throat and do it fast. I want to be unconscious.”
“That bad?” Kayla waited for Pete to fill the glass and pushed it toward Brenna. “So—are you going to tell us what’s going on?”
“What makes you think something is going on?”
“Er—apart from the fact you don’t usually drink spirits?”
Brenna picked up the glass, knocked it back in one mouthful and then choked as it set fire to her throat. “That’s disgusting.”
“It’s an acquired taste, and you obviously haven’t acquired it. As a matter of interest, why did you order tequila?”
“Because it’s Saturday night, I’ve had a totally crap week and a beer wasn’t going to do it. When I see people drink tequila in the movies, they always look as if they’re having fun. I deserve to have fun, and as I’m obviously not going to have any naked-between-the-sheets sort of fun anytime soon, I thought I’d go with empty-the-bottle sort of fun.”
“How can you have had a crap week?” Élise ignored the tequila and ordered a glass of wine. “It’s almost Christmas, business is booming and you’ve moved in with Tyler. This is your dream, no?”
“If I didn’t love you, I’d kill you. Both of you. For interfering. For putting me in this position. And for the record, it isn’t my dream to have the man of my fantasies sleeping in a different bed with a wall between us.” Brenna pushed her glass toward Kayla. “Fill it up. Don’t hold back.”
“If I don’t hold back, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”