“It’s good to see you. I thought about visiting, but then I realized that I may not be welcome … so seeing you here’s definitely a nice surprise.”
God, he looked ridiculously delicious. I hadn’t noticed before, but his hair was longer. It went all the way to his chin. The sexy Viking grunge look was driving my libido into overdrive. And no matter how I tried to deny it, it felt amazing to be feeling this way again.
If he could read my thoughts, he would most likely tease me.
But back to lucid thoughts, I recalled what he just stated about seeing me.
Not meeting his gaze, I tried to play it cool, acting unaffected by his magnetizing sex appeal. “It’s good to see you, too,” I murmured, while I contemplated how in the world I managed to despise the man for so long yet still reacted to him.
He inched his hand over the table, reaching for my pinky finger before loosely holding it. “Do you mean that?” he whispered, looking intently at me, searching my face.
“I do mean it.” It had to be the alcohol that got made me less feisty and more compliant toward his advances. It had lowered my defenses.
“Then dance with me,” he insisted with an amused expression.
My mouth went dry. The thought of having my body so close to his stalwart figure made me feel faint.
“I’d rather not,” I mumbled.
Not only was I tipsy, but add on sex into the equation and it would be an intoxication I might not be able to handle. Sexual tension already crackled between us, so dancing with him would surely charge that pressure to combustible heights.
“Why not? You used to love it.” His eyes sparkled, beckoning and utterly disarming.
He was right. I used to love everything about him. But thank heavens there was still a part of me that wouldn’t yield.
“It’s just not appropriate, given the situation.”
“Ah, I’m still in the doghouse.” He beamed, flashing his dimple as he scratched his stubble. His rugged, bad boy, devil-may-care look didn’t help my cause. In fact, it impaired it a great deal.
When my fingers itched to touch that cute dip on his cheek, I knew I was in trouble. It was one of my varied weaknesses where he was concerned.
“Come on, River … you know why.” Biting my bottom lip, I glanced away as I battled the uncontained emotions within.
“I’m not asking you to marry me, Cara. It’s just dancing.”
“Maybe next time …”
I deeply blushed from his blatant reference to our past. I had been engaged to the man once, and he was making a light jest of it. He was being too cheeky, too flirty, causally mentioning it like it didn’t trigger anything between us. He was testing the waters, hoping to gain some leverage. Did he not know that, though tough as I may appear, my clouded judgment couldn’t handle him?
He inched closer to my ear, breathing me in. “I’ll take you up on that,” he deeply rasped out, hypnotizing, compelling my weakened senses.
“I know you will.” This man wouldn’t give up until he got what he desired.
River pulled back, giving me a little breathing space before pressing his lips together, contemplating as he intently gazed at me with unmasked desire. “So … where’s the boyfriend?”
He was inquiring about Parker? Uh, why?
Confused, I anxiously swallowed hard. God help me. I was treading into treacherous territory, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk away, either. Where was the strong-willed Cara who had shut River down the first time we had encountered each other after so many years apart?
Shut him down …You mean, almost having sex with him almost two hours later?Yeah, that shut him down all right.
I was a walking contradiction.
“Parker’s shooting a new film. He’s not here.”
His facial expression became unreadable. Mercurial almost. Gone was the sparkle in his eye and in came the inquisition.
“And he’s been treating you well?”