Those naked lips quirked into her tilted smile, and he silently added that to his list.
“You’re good at this. But you should fall in love with my talent, too. I’m an artist. My professional name is S.E. Smith, and without her in the mix, I’m just another pretty face.”
Untrue, but now wasn’t a wise moment to point out all the other talents he’d noticed every time she’d gone up or down the stairs at Camden Gardens. Never would be the better time for that conversation. He straightened. “I have to confess I don’t know shit about art. Give me a couple catchphrases so I don’t sound like an asshat talking about how your work captures the complex, shifting essence of what it means to be human.”
Her laugh eased some of the tension in the room. “Lucky for you, I went through my ‘complex, shifting essence’ phase years ago. I’m a glass artist.”
“Right. Glass artist. I’m not sure what that means.”
“I blow glass. You should come down to Glassworks Studios—that’s where I rent furnace time—and see for yourself. But in the meantime, just use words like ‘colorful,’ ‘vibrant,’ and ‘extremely breakable.’ If you really want to impress my family, you can say my work looks like Dale Chihuly had a tempestuous affair with Queen Elsa fromFrozen.”
“You’re way better than Dale Chihuahua.”
His ignorance earned him another throaty laugh. “And that’swhy I fell for you.”
“Because of my art appreciation?”
“Because you make me laugh.” She fiddled with the collar of his shirt, and her smile turned sly. “Plus I like how you fill out your paramedic’s uniform.”
The comment surprised him. Not the flirtatiousness—he’d never mistaken her for shy—but based on her boyfriend choice, he’d pegged her for the suit-and-tie type. “I didn’t realize you’d noticed.”
“Are you kidding? We all noticed.”
“We all?”
“Mrs. Washington in one-twenty-two—”
“Shut up. She’s ninety years old.”
“Nothing wrong with her eyesight. She fans her face and says, ‘Oooh mercy, dat ass,’ every time you walk by. And Steven in one-oh-two says next time the temperature hits triple digits, he’s going to fake a swoon and hope for mouth-to-mouth.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and added, “Don’t tell him I divulged his plan.”
As a rule, people in medical professions didn’t embarrass easily, but the thought of his neighbors discussing his…assets…did the trick. “His plan contains a fundamental flaw. He has to do more than pass out to get the kiss of life.”
The corners of her mouth tightened, pushing her lips into a sexy little pout, and his lip-biting fantasy returned in full force.
“I had no idea paramedics were so stingy with the mouth-to-mouth.”
“We like to play hard-to-get.”
Amusement danced in her eyes. “In that case, I guess I should be flattered by your offer.” She smoothed her fingers over his shoulder and down the front of his shirt, frowning slightly as her hand came to rest in the center of his chest. “There’s a lot of chemistry here, but for both our sakes, we probably shouldn’t acton it.”
She’d read his mind. Why the relief her words should have brought felt more like irritation, he couldn’t say. She’d just come out of a relationship, and if he interpreted the theme of this morning’s music medley correctly, she wasn’t looking to get involved again soon. His default setting was “not looking to get involved.” Even if they were looking, getting involved with each other put a lot at risk. “We’re on the same page,” he said, and told the renegade in his jeans to calm down. “No complications.”
She nodded. “Agreed. No complications.” But her frown deepened. “Our families might expect an occasional display of affection.”
His right palm tingled with the phantom weight of her breast, and his left hand twitched at the memory of cupping her tight, round ass. “I’m sure we can muster up something convincing.”
“I don’t know. You’re blushing pretty hard right now just thinking about it.”
“I’m blushing thinking about my pervy neighbors speculating on my mouth-to-mouth skills.”
“If you say so.”
The allegedly logical part of his mind insisted she had a point. “You want a demonstration?”
She tipped her face up, shook her hair back, and he caught a flowery hint of shampoo or perfume, or maybe justherdrifting under the antiseptic hospital smell.
“A dress rehearsal might be in order. I don’t mean to criticize, but the last time you kissed me, your technique needed work.”