6
925 Words
His dark eyes burn. He says softly, “Is that a yes?”
I throw my hands in the air. “Of course not! I met you ten seconds ago!”
“Just let me take you to lunch. Let me explain everything. Then, if you’re still not interested, I’ll return you here and you’ve lost nothing but an hour of time.” His gaze grows even more penetrating. “Or did you have something more important on your schedule?”
Yes, the man is all sorts of hot, but I can already tell he’ll be getting on my last nerve regularly.
Not that I’ll be seeing him regularly. Because his proposal is crazy, and so, most likely, is he.
But lunch can’t hurt. And I am hungry. And broke. And I don’t have anything more important to do…
Decision made, I say, “Bring me the registration from the car. I’ll need your driver’s license, too, so I can text pictures of both to my girlfriend. And grab that glass of water on the counter. Make sure to get your fingerprints all over it.”
When he lifts both brows, I smile. “If my body shows up in a dumpster somewhere, Mr. McCord, you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison.”
The drive to the restaurant is spent in awkward silence. I stare straight ahead while Callum stares at my profile. At every stoplight, I consider jumping out of the car and running away screaming. It’s only my overpowering curiosity that keeps me in my seat.
“I want you to marry me.”
He actually said that.
I can’t wait to tell my best friend, Dani. She’ll die.
“You’re tense.”
Startled, I jump and turn to look at Callum. He sits beside me in the back of the sedan with his long legs spread open and a predatory expression on his face, as if he’s about to lunge at me.
My eyes widen. My pulse flutters. A flash of heat burns between my thighs.
Dammit, pull yourself together!
I clear my throat, then say tartly, “If the large and intimidating stranger who walked into your bookstore and proposed marriage were looking at you as if you were his next meal, you might be tense too.”
A note of darkness creeps into his voice. “If I were looking at you like you were my next meal, you’d already be eaten.”
Wow. This guy is something else. v****a, settle down and stop moaning.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Instead of answering my question, he asks his own. “Intimidating?”
I give him a sour look. “There you go fishing for an ego stroke again. I already told you, Cal, you came to the wrong place for that.”
His gaze drops to my mouth. That muscle in his jaw flexes again. “And I already told you, it’s Callum. Don’t call me anything else.”
I know it’s only my imagination that adds an unspoken threat that if I do, I’ll be punished.
Or it could be that look in his eyes, the shiver-inducing dark disapproval.
Fighting to maintain my composure, I gaze at him coolly. “I realize you don’t often hear the word no, but I don’t take orders. If you want me to do something, you’ll have to say please.”
He gazes at me in weighted silence for a moment. Then in a low, stroking voice, he murmurs, “Please.”
My panties erupt into flames. My n*****s harden, and my lungs stop working. I gape at him, helpless to respond coherently.
How am I’m going to get through an entire lunch with this man without having a spontaneous o****m?
It’s impossible. I might have multiple orgasms just sitting next to him. His s****l magnetism is astonishing.
Holding my gaze, he says, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
I’d rather die than admit my panties are on fire, so I deflect. “It’s just that you have something between your front teeth. It’s green. Could be spinach.”
“You’re funny. How unexpected.”
“No, I’m serious. It’s a big clump of green stuff. You should find a toothpick before we get to the restaurant and everyone starts laughing at you.”
“And you should find a cold compress. Your face is bright red.”
I lift a hand to my cheek. Sure enough, it’s burning. Embarrassed, I blurt, “I’m still trying to get over that plague I caught last month.”
His expression remains the same, but his eyes sparkle with amusement. “Plague? Sounds serious.”
“It was. It is, I mean. I’m highly infectious. You could break out in boils any minute.”
I have no idea what the hell I’m saying, but one thing is clear: my brain has melted under Callum’s scorching-hot proximity. If I don’t get away from him soon, my entire body will liquefy into a pile of goo and ruin the upholstery.
The car slows to a stop at the curb. A valet in a red vest opens the door for me. Breathless and disoriented, I climb out of the car. In a moment, Callum comes to stand beside me.
Taking me by the elbow, he gazes down into my eyes.
He says, “It’s only lunch. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
It’s chilling how strongly I suspect both those statements will turn out to be lies.
- Writer
