familiarity saddened him. He fought the urge to pull her tight against him and cursed sentimentality. She was a mark. Nothing more. Quit thinking you're better than your background.
"Hey yourself," he said, shaking off the mood and matching her smile. "You left me. I was beginning to think you'd decided you could trust me alone."
Her grin blossomed, punctuated by a wink. "Not a chance. I've been keeping tabs on you from a distance."
"Have you? That's interesting." He'd injected a lascivious note into his voice. From the way she cocked her head, he was pretty sure she'd caught the inflection.
"Interesting? Why?" She pulled out the hairpins holding up her mass of blond curls. They tumbled down, and her fingers intertwined in one long strand. God, she was adorable.
"I've been keeping some tabs on you, too. I wonder if we've been thinking about the same thing."
Twirl, twirl. Devin didn't think Paris realized what she was doing. A nervous habit, perhaps. But what was making her nervous? A little innocent flirting?
He raked his eyes over that dress again, taking in the way it clung to her delicious curves, then back up to her soulful eyes and sun-kissed hair. The beginning of an erection strained against his fly.
To hell with innocent. The woman was a siren.
"You said you came because you wanted to go out with me." Her voice held only the slightest tremor. "I was wondering if you meant that."
"Of course." Go out with her, hold her, touch her, taste the sweetness of her skin. Make love to her.
"The party's wrapping up. Are you tired?" The finger returned to that one strand of hair, and Devin imagined the soft lock caressing his chest, her fingers combing through his own hair as she lost herself to passion.
He'd lost his train of thought. "What?"
She hesitated. "Never mind. It was nothing. I'll just say good-night."
"No, no." He took her bare arm, delighting in its softness and anxious to know if the rest of her was as silky. Unable to help himself, he traced his finger up her arm, then across her delicate shoulder, and finally along the neckline of her dress. "Have a drink with me."
She took a shuddering breath. "I … I really shouldn't. It's late."
"'Then stay with me until it's early, and I'll ask you again.'"
She looked up, stern, but the desire in her dark eyes told a different story. "Have you memorized every one of my books?"
"Not at all."
"Just a few choice lines to help you get what you want?"
"Perhaps. Or maybe it's just coincidence."
"Coincidence?"
Devin kissed the back of her hand, letting his lips linger on the delicate skin. He wanted to taste more of her. All of her. "Maybe I'm coming up with these lines entirely on my own. I could be the man you've always dreamed of. Do you really want to risk turning me away?"
He expected her to laugh and say he wasn't the stuff of anyone's dreams, much less hers. It would break the ice, and they could have a relaxing drink, talk, and explore where this chemistry between them would lead. Her hotel room, perhaps? Heat coursed through him and he wondered if she'd be keen on skipping the drink, the talk.
But she wasn't laughing. Instead, her brow furrowed. Rather than putting him down, she took a step backward.
Okay, mistake in judgment. If he didn't regroup quickly, Devin would never get close to her. He frowned, remembering why he was really there.
He had to get close to her, had to bring up the money.
"Or not," he said, wishing he could think of something a little more articulate.
She squinted at him. "What?" Although only a few steps from him, it seemed as if she had retreated to the far side of the restaurant.
"I mean I did memorize your books. Well, not every book. A friend culled key lines. We put them on cue cards. I crammed."
A bug. That's what he felt like under her stare. A big, fuzzy bug pinned to acid-free paper and baking under a bare lightbulb.
"Cue cards?" she repeated.
Devin fished in his jacket pocket, finally pulling out a handful of
Aj Harmon, Christopher Harmon