Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
“Far more often [than asking the question ‘Is it true?’] they [children] have asked me: ‘Was he good? Was he wicked?’ That is, they were far more concerned to get the Right side and the Wrong side clear. For that is a question equally important in History and in Faerie.”
— J.R.R. TOLKIEN, TOLKIEN ON FAIRY-STORIES
I had not magically found a way to confess my not-so-secret identity to Maverick by the time he dropped me off at my rental place with a box of Japanese cake. I was not going to just blurt out the truth: that I was not Suzette, and that I was actually a TV star. I liked the way Maverick looked at me too much, and I did not want to lose that. Maybe it wouldn’t make a difference, but it might.
For a delicious, weak moment I even considered trying to glamour Ranger. Could I make him like me? I’d come by his dislike fairly, however, and somehow working my personal magic on him seemed like a betrayal of everything I liked about his brother. After all, he was hiding something, too.
Nevertheless, despite how exhilaratingly nonmagical it had been to be just a girl flirting with a hot guy, I promised myself that I would explain everything to Maverick the first time we were alone. Using words, not spells.
Unfortunately, Ranger rode along the next morning when Maverick picked me up at 5:00 a.m. for my six o’clock call time.
Maverick held the door for me, giving me a warm smile and offering his hand. “You left your kraken cup in the truck again last night, so I reckoned I’d get it filled back up. Frozen pink Frappuccino with sprinkles and whipped cream, right?”
He was good. He placed a protective hand over the top of the doorframe so that I wouldn’t bump my head and then helped me up. His fingers were warm and callused, squeezing gently and sending hot tingles up my arm and through my chest before he let go.
The delicious twinkle in his eye was more of a flirty promise. Or maybe that was just his dimple getting in on the action?
I did not want to let go, watching him greedily as he strode around the truck with an easy, powerful stride. He would make a gorgeous wolf.
The less pleasant wolf that I was now trapped in the cab with growled my name, his hard voice pulling me out of my romantic daydreams.
“Morning,” I returned, my happy glow fading.
“Did you tell Maverick?”
“When did I have a chance?” Maverick was almost around the truck.
“You have to tell him.”
“I plan on it.”
“When?”
“When we’re alone ,” I hissed. “I don’t need an audience. Why are you here?”
“Do it soon,” he snarled. He shut up, however, when Maverick opened the door and climbed up into the truck.
Maverick gave me a friendly and sweetly concerned smile. “Is there enough whipped cream? Diner Dinah and I had a debate about the proper coffee-to-whipped-cream proportions.”
“She hasn’t had a chance to try your whipped cream,” Ranger answered on my behalf, adding, “but she wants you to take her out tonight on a private date. Someplace that’s not public so that the two of you can talk. In private.”
“Don’t say those things.” Maverick glared at his brother in the rearview mirror. Even the way the faintest hint of amber rolled over his eyes said he was irritated and that Ranger was in danger of having to walk to set.
That was just fine with me.
In fact, just the thought of evicting the self-righteous, growly Ranger had me snort-laughing into my kraken coffee cup.
“Bless your heart, big brother. I reckon she’s got a thing for your ugly mug even if she’s cute as a button. And I know you feel the same, judging by how long you took in the bathroom this morning.”
“Ranger!”
I was briefly worried that Maverick would go full-on wolf and lunge for his brother in the backseat.
“You were singing,” Ranger said. “That Russian love song stuff again.”
“Why do you do these things? Don’t meddle. Don’t talk. Ever. You should consider a vow of perpetual silence.” Maverick looked at me sheepishly, sighing remorsefully. “I am so, so sorry. I should not have subjected you to him.”
I set my hand on Maverick’s bicep—his upper arm was rock-hard and deliciously firm—and patted him. Mostly, this was intended to ease his fears, although partly it was because I wanted to touch him, and both our audience and the amount of available space in the truck’s cab did not allow for a full-body hug. A proper, deep hug would have been an excellent way of building trust, plus it would feel amazing. It was clear Maverick could benefit from an increased oxytocin level.
“It’s true.” I squeezed his bicep because, holy moly, it was more addictive than the squishable hedgehog my sister had given me for calming my nerves. “I do like your face.”
Maverick bit back a smile; he was not ready to calm down yet. “I’m glad you’re happy with what you see.”
“Just see her,” Ranger demanded. “She ain’t busy tonight. You two go on out tonight.”
Maverick uttered a rough sound that was definitely growly, but I spoke over him. “I am free tonight.”
Ranger punched his brother lightly in the shoulder. “See? You have a date. You’re welcome. I’m gonna take a nap back here until we get to the falls. If you two smitten kittens could keep it down up there, I’d be much obliged.”
I had my second unfortunate encounter of the day at the craft table before we’d even started shooting. Craft services had gone all out with buttermilk biscuits and sausage gravy, plus cornbread with honey butter. Tomato, bacon, and cheddar pie with thick wedges of heirloom tomatoes and basil. And the ever-ubiquitous shredded pimiento cheese that looked like a pile of yellow straw with weird red bits (I was not a fan). There was even an entire hummingbird cake dotted with pecans that I intended to introduce myself to later.
I was filling my plate and debating whether cake counted as a breakfast food when Luke strode in looking like the golden prince he was.
Luke’s glamour was a billion times better than mine, and he possessed far fewer ethics. His personal magic made it easy to imagine fairy-tale weddings, glass shoes, and heirloom diamond rings. I’d briefly succumbed to the romance he projected the first time we’d met, mesmerized by his good looks and sexy saunter.
Closer encounters had inoculated me and broken his spell. Now, he scowled at me, attracting attention from the other diners and our fellow actors.
“Why the prune face, Luke?” Marlene dug into her slice of pie. She’d been cast as Loretta Spellman, a sassy witch who ran a local herb shop and offered supernatural remedies for all sorts of social problems. “If it’s a poop issue, you should up your fluid intake. Maybe add some chickpeas and lentils to your diet.”
“I eat chia seeds and avocados.” Luke was only momentarily distracted by one of his favorite subjects: his digestive health and its relationship to his current diet. “And I’m here for a word with Sonnet.”
“Pull up a chair.” Marlene stabbed her fork at the empty bench across from her.
Luke frowned. A few lovestruck crew members leaned in, sighing.
That was my cue. “I’ll walk with you.”
I hopped up and Luke smoldered at me with every ounce of charm he had. He was a sexy sun trying to blind me.
I blinked away the spots dancing in front of my eyes. “What’s up?”
“Let’s go to my trailer,” he said huskily, leaning into me. “We can talk. We haven’t had a chance to catch up in ages.”
“We talked yesterday. We discussed your new weight loss regimen.”
I’d also avoided him as much as possible. Delivered my lines and then poof! I’d run off. As the vanishing had been the result of my hard work and industrious avoidance of his person, rather than any kind of magical spell or incantation on my part, it hadn’t been easy.
He grinned at me, his beautiful blue eyes warming with unconvincing tenderness. Glamour aside, he couldn’t act. “Tell me all about yourself. What’s going on in your life? What’s your next project?”
Ah-ha. We were almost done shooting this season of Smoky Spirits and he didn’t know if the producers had decided if the sexy Civil War ghost that he played would return for the next one or not. I could kill him—and his career—with a few taps on my keyboard.
Luke’s stock in Hollywood had plummeted since our breakup. He’d made a pilot for his own show that had not been picked up.
Even Elena—who had initially adored Luke because she thought he was an excellent accessory for my career—had mentioned several times that his career was floundering.
And by floundering she meant his Titanic had hit an iceberg, and there was a debris field a mile long on the ocean floor.
Fortunately, I didn’t have to deflect or parry his interest in my next project—my phone rang. Elena. I blurted out, “Sorry, I have to take this!” and rushed away from the set.
“Dearest, darling Sonnet, my most beloved of sisters! Conejita , you don’t—I mean—no one has told you the news, right?”
Smiling at Elena’s good mood, I moved purposefully toward the bat houses that Maverick and his hairy brother had put up to tempt the bats off our set. I had to assume they were full of flying mammals, but right now—in broad daylight—there was no sign of winged occupants.
“What’s up? How are you?”
“I am unbelievably fantastic,” she enthused. “And it’s all thanks to you.”
“Ummm—great?” It was nice to inspire happy thoughts in my siblings, but this seemed suspiciously disproportionate.
“ASK ME,” she demanded. “Ask me to tell you all about it!” And then, without waiting for me to say a thing, she blurted out, “Guess whose book was optioned by a big-name Hollywood studio?”
“I give up. Who?”
“You.”
I—what? I mouthed a few disbelieving, happy obscenities at a nearby innocent tree. I may have jumped up and down a few times. “Me?”
They’re going to make a movie out of MY book!? Am I somnambulating? Is this an amazing dream, and I’ll wake up and be crushed by disappointed hopes? I get to make my FIRST MOVIE EVER?
“The studio wants to option Quantum Howl !”
We both engaged in some unprofessional squealing.
This had been my breakout book. The twenty-something heroine, nerdy physicist Luna Marlowe, had not known that she was a werewolf until she unexpectedly transformed in her laboratory when the protective enchantment cast by her mother broke and exposed her to werewolf hunters.
I’d had so much fun with that book, including tormenting the lead werewolf hunter by having him fall in love with Luna. There had been family secrets too—like Luna’s family being guardians of a supernatural gateway in their small town that led to a faraway planet populated by a space race of Neanderthal werewolves who had remained behind when Luna’s ancestors fled a cosmic catastrophe through the gateway. The love triangle between Luna, the hunter, and the barbarian was one of my favorites.
“They want you to play Luna! You’re their number one choice for Wolf Girl! AND they want you to write the screen adaptation.”
“I can play the title role and write it?” I’d like to thank the universe, my fairy godmother, and the goddess for this award. DO NOT WAKE UP. EVER.
“You’ll write it. They have an in-house team to help with revisions. It’ll be a paranormal take on your classic caped hero, but with a girl who shapeshifts.”
I stared at the nearest bat house, my brain still offline from the happy shock. “Do they think that I look like a superheroine? They’ve seen me on Smoky Spirits , right? I’m not all muscle-y.”
“It’ll be fine,” Elena said. “There will be a green screen with CGI capture and a whole team doing technical stuff that I’ll Google and pretend to understand. You’ll shoot live-action scenes as Luna in her human form. Luna’s cute and funny. People love her and would never believe that she turns into a hulking, muscled, dire wolf. Then you’ll just do green screen for her transformations when she goes wolf. And also for the outer space stuff because obviously it would be hard to shoot on location on Pluto or wherever.”
“Yes!” I yelled. Startled, an Aphrodite fritillary launched itself upward on black-and-gold wings from a nearby patch of butterfly weed. “Absolutely. Sign now. A thousand times YES!”
I had no idea how I would fit this project into my already jam-packed schedule, but for a role in a movie that I WOULD BE WRITING, I’d invent a time-turner. Give up sleep. Invest in a caffeine drip.
Before I could bring up dates and deliverables, however, Elena cut in, “And before I forget, who are you bringing to the London premiere? I need the name of your date right now.”
“What?” My brain lurched from the happy-Wolf-girl train track to the less pleasant gah-I’m-a-single-girl track.
“You have to go.”
My sister did have a good sense for these things but...
“Thom is attending with his new girlfriend.”
“And?”
“And the two of you dated. He’s moved on, so you want to control the narrative and make it clear that you have too. Pining is not a good look.”
“We didn’t date.”
Elena huffed. “You did too date.”
“There was no dating. I did not go out with Thom. We went rollerblading in Santa Monica, and then we went to the urgent care.”
Thom had pulled a groin muscle. It had not been pretty.
“He still claims it was his best night ever.”
“So not true. He explained the finer nuances of hot yoga to me for an hour . I was sympathy sweating.”
“Well, Vlad will be there too, and the gossip sites are reporting that he’s bringing his best friend’s little sister. He shared a TikTok video about how he likes you still, but you’re taken.”
“I’m not taken,” I protested. “I’m happily single. There’s a difference.”
“Uh-huh. Well, Benjie is also coming.”
“Are you serious?” We’d been set up on a faux date for a red-carpet event, and he’d been playing the jilted lover ever since. The closest we’d got was when he’d held my hand helping me out of the car, so his drama was unwarranted. “What a bellend!”
“You might want to invest in protective warding. Between Luke, Thom, Vlad, and Benjie, that London theater will be full of your old boyfriends. Bring someone new.”
I hadn’t realized that defensive dating was a legitimate thing, as opposed to proof of my poor life choices, but Elena made a good point.
“Fine. You win. I’ll show up with somebody new.” Worst-case scenario, I’d beg Wyatt to go with me.
“Great. I’ll start the travel arrangements. And congratulations.” Elena’s voice warmed with pride. “You are an amazing writer, and you are going to knock this Wolf Girl ball right out of the ballpark.”
I was exhausted, but this was literally the opportunity of a lifetime. I would do it. I would prioritize.
Despite my grumpiness about having to bring a date to London, I could not stop a silly happy smile from spreading over my face. I AM DOING THIS. “Thank you for helping me make this happen. You are the best sister and manager ever.”
“You know it,” she said. “I love you too, conejita . See you in London.”
Elena loved hotels and traveling, while I loved surprising her with the things she loved. I made a note in my phone app to Google fun things to do in London. Perhaps we could stay in one of those hotels that used to be a nobleman’s city pad. Perhaps we could visit a supper club or a swank bar, a place where she could meet a prince or at least a duke. She deserved the best happy ending ever.
And then maybe after I wrote this book, if my first role in a movie went well, if I won the awards and broke through that glass ceiling so many other women had bumped their heads on, maybe then I could take a vacation—or a break—of my own.
Showbiz gossip traveled faster than a speed-it-up spell, and by late afternoon all of the cast and most of the crew had stopped to congratulate me about Wolf Girl .
The cherry on my awesome-day-sundae, however, was my date night with the hottie Professor Maverick.
I snuck back to my trailer, avoiding well-wishers and my security detail, to prepare. I had sixty minutes to make myself look amazing, and I’d borrowed the best outfit from wardrobe.
It made me feel like a goddess.
I’d paired a lacy crop top with a flirtatiously short skirt. The shirt was trimmed with black lace and had perky bows right above my assets, while the skirt was short and covered with a black fern print. The bottom was gathered up with a tiny bow on each thigh. It was playful and made me feel pretty. It also hugged my curves and made me look like a present waiting to be unwrapped.
I figured that was more subtle than jumping into Maverick’s truck and yelling, DO ME, BIG GUY. POR FAVOR!
I made the most of my hour, taking a quick shower and then letting my hair tumble down in waves. I added some braids with ribbons threaded through them and spent way too much time lining my eyes with a sensuous eyeliner I might have purloined from the makeup team. I tucked my lucky piece of rose quartz into my pocket and laced up my boots—my mountainside location and the gravel nature of the road where I was meeting Maverick made me glad I was not a high-heels kind of gal.
Should I glamour up? I could dial my charm all the way up and wow him, but I was tired after using glamour all day. Plus, he’d liked me out there on the mountain, just as I (mostly) was. Still.
I took time to utter a manifestation.
I am worthy of a genuine, healthy relationship.
I am enough as I am.
There are no obstacles between me and Maverick.
It worked, too. When I opened my trailer door, the coast was clear and Luke-free. The only human in sight was Eric, the polo-shirt-and-sunglasses-wearing head of my security detail. As he was blond, had excellent personal hygiene, and liked to collect weapons, I’d nicknamed him Eric the Viking.
“Do you have a photo call?” He frowned, rifling through his mental Rolodex of Sonnet dates and coming up empty.
“Nope!” I reminded myself that technically I was his employer and walked down the stairs.
“You’re not going out, are you?” He scowled. “I was not informed.”
“I am not the president,” I reminded him, clutching my crocheted tote bag closer. We both knew that if he “helped carry my laptop,” I would go wherever he wanted. “There are no snipers or secret assassins. You do not have to sweep the hypothetical place I may be going to for dangerous persons.”
“Please tell me you’re not seeing Mr. Hensley,” he groaned, making a pained face.
“Definitely not Luke.” I tucked myself behind Eric’s muscular bulk and double-checked that there were no other people lurking on set.
“Is it Zach Quick?” Zach played a wild mountain man who was a closeted werewolf.
This was Zach’s first major role, and he and I got along great, but he was the adorable, fresh-faced stud type. Meaning, he had been cast in a bunch of hot young hero roles where he took off his shirt in the promo shots, and hordes of young men and women lined up to meet him outside the TV studios. Dating opportunities were plentiful for him, although to give him credit, he was sticking with his college sweetheart and had shrugged off his agent’s suggestion that he do red-carpet events with other celebrities to help his career. Perhaps I should invite him to London?
“Nope. Are we playing Twenty Questions? Do I get to quiz you about your dating life?”
“My job is to keep you safe,” he grumbled. I had to agree with him that dating was dangerous.
Romance on set was safe. It was scripted, and an intimacy coordinator would make sure everyone involved in the scene was comfortable.
IRL, dating was more like the Hunger Games than not. It was a revolving door of beautiful people.
Add in the constant travel, the nondisclosure agreements, and the embarrassingly public scrutiny, and most relationships came with a short expiration date.
I knew actors who had their dates sign NDAs and who kept their relationships hush-hush, but I’d never taken that route. And because my dates had been highly public, the online trolls had posted trash about how my new man was already seeing other women and how big my butt had looked in my dress.
Nothing could compensate for the constant barrage of camera flashes and being told that my celebrity boyfriend was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
And they were. Except...wasn’t everyone a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? We were all just people at the end of the day. All unique and special. It was corny but I sure believed it, and I was tired of male actors who thought their job made them super-special snowflakes who deserved the VIP girlfriend treatment.
“So.” Eric crossed his arms over his chest. “Do I know your date? Has he been vetted?”
“Nope. Can you walk sideways so I can get out of here unseen?”
Eric’s frown deepened. He would have lines by the time he was forty. “I need to know who he is in order to provide security for you.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“It absolutely is.” He was intractable. I would have had more luck heading off a horde of his Viking ancestors rampaging across a beach. “Your dating problem is literally my job to handle. I need a name.”
“He’s a professor at the local community college, okay?”
“Not even close to okay.”
“Do you want his social to run a background check? Should I try to steal some of his hair so you can do a full DNA analysis? He’s a person. I have a date.”
This was no time to explain lycanthropy. Eric was not aware that I was half Chaneque, half Fae. I had no idea, in fact, whether he believed in the supernatural. I was sure, however, that he would view it as a potential threat.
“Fine. I’ll introduce you. But do not tell him who I am, and let me do all the talking.”
“I need to run a background check. And he signs an NDA.”
I pretended that these commands were suggestions because Eric sidestepped, covering my exit with his mountain man body, and let me slip away unseen. As soon as I was clear, he caught up to me, clearly having decided to escort me to my meeting point.
“How did you meet this guy? How do you know he’s safe? He could be a crazy fan.”
“He’s not,” I grumbled. Telling Maverick my real identity was the part of tonight that I was not looking forward to. He’d liked me for me and not for being the famous Sonnet Ruiz. It was wonderful.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Eric scanned the trees. He seemed to be expecting a horde of aggressive wood nymphs or an ax-wielding giant. Some kind of threat. He would have had a heart attack if he’d known about the wolf thing.
When we got to the pickup point, I spotted Maverick at once. Even better, there was no sign of Ranger. Maverick pushed off the truck he’d been leaning against and flashed a smile at me. Then, he waved. I smiled and waved right back.
He was the best looking of all the many handsome men I’d dated. He wore dark blue jeans and a crisply ironed button-up shirt, the cuffs turned to reveal powerful forearms. The shirt was inky black like my favorite color, with his usual cowboy hat and...be still my heart...cowboy boots.
Sexy clothing. Fun sexy clothing. His buttons made me want to undo him, unbutton and unwrap, burrow underneath his layers. Bad, bad, bad. I couldn’t have actual, long-term, genuine feelings. I was a dating train wreck. Even worse, he wore a pinesy, woodland-scented cologne that was all my favorite things. His skin smelled delicious. Was I allowed to lick him? To press my nose against the golden hollow of his throat? Please. Even better, I could see the outline of his biceps and muscles, shoulders, and long, lean legs underneath his clothes. No one should have a body like that. I could die of lust.
“Great,” Eric muttered, drawing my attention back to him.
“What now?” Sexy butterflies swooped in my stomach.
“You like him.” Three accusatory words.
I poked him in the ribs. “You do not have a speaking role in tonight’s scene. You are a walk-on only.”
Eric grunted with amusement. “Does he know he’s got a dinner date with a celebrity actress?”
“SECRET,” I whisper-hissed. “Don’t make me fire you.”
Eric laughed, the asshole.
Maverick’s gaze bounced between my bodyguard and me, his smile polite, but just as laidback and open as always.
He made me his priority, stepping forward to drop a kiss on my cheek. The quick brush of his lips against my skin fired up my neurons.
“Hi, darling.” I felt his words resonate inside me, and it made my heart tight and achy.
“Hiiiiii,” I blurted out, lost in the heavenly scent of him. He smelled like all my favorite places. The here-and-then-gone scratch of his beard against my cheek sent ripples of heat through me.
Maverick set one hand possessively against me, his fingers brushing the bare skin of my back. He held the other hand out to Eric, who shook it. I suspected there was some kind of manly handshake firmness contest going on. I also suspected that—unusually—Maverick had won.
“I’m Maverick. It’s nice to meet you.”
Eric tipped his head in acknowledgment and looked at me. The bastard was taking my silence is golden fiat literally.
“This is Eric the Viking.” I waved a hand at him. “We’re colleagues. He needed to see for himself that you’re not a psychopathically disturbed superfan.”
I was hoping I could sort of slide the whole oh sí , I have a security team detail past Maverick. After all, he had Ranger who had made his own big deal out of protecting his older brother.
Maverick’s smile grew. “I appreciate your looking out for Suzette.”
Eric froze when Maverick said “Suzette.” At least his sunglasses hid his expression. Eric did not surprise easily, but he had not anticipated this plot twist.
“Great. Now that we’re all acquainted, we’ll be going. Eric, you have a nice night now.” I narrowed my eyes and jerked my head back toward the set.
“It was a pleasure,” Maverick said, stepping closer still to me. His palm pressed against the bare skin of my back. It felt amazing. He was the consummate gentleman and so stinking cute.
Eric nodded, shooting a tight smile Maverick’s way. He seemed to be concerned that I would chew my date up and spit him out. “You be good now,” he said to me.
“You are not my father,” I gritted out. “Or my brother. Or even the boss of me.”
Sighing, Eric turned and strolled back toward the set. As this was the best I would get, I turned in Maverick’s arms, settling into his embrace. His hazel eyes twinkled with amusement as he gazed down at me.
“I’m glad you’ve got someone looking out for you,” Maverick said, gently steering me to the truck’s passenger side.
“Oh, he’s looking out.” And while it was, in fact, the job I paid him to do, it still irritated me to have to run my dates past him. I did not want anyone looking into Maverick’s past or asking him to sign an NDA.
Maverick opened the door, but climbing up into the truck and getting on with our night was suddenly not what I wanted. Mostly, I was being a big chicken about confessing my naming misdeeds. I might not get another chance to be this close to Maverick.
I would tell him exactly who I was. As soon as we were in his truck and finally had some quiet space, I would confess. I could not control how he would react, if he would change his mind about taking me out. I could not stop him from treating me differently.
Maybe I was greedy. And selfish. But I wanted this one last, sweet, perfect moment when we were just two strangers who’d been thrown together by life and who had a spark. I wanted to be just a girl he liked, for him to be just a guy I’d met and wanted to get to know better. We were not a witch and a werewolf, or a celebrity and the local guy.
Resting my hand against his chest, I tilted my head back, the better to drink him in. Nerves had me stumbling over my words, not sure what to say.
“I know we just met, and we’ve got the whole night, but I would like to...” Words tumbled through my head like pebbles on a streambed. I was making this weird.
He watched me with that patient, gentle expression he wore as often as he did blue jeans, but his eyes darkened as they dropped to my mouth.
Hallelujah.
My professor was having kissing thoughts; his lips parted in anticipation, his gaze growing slumbrous and hot. This was a golden moment to shut up, I decided. Action over words, and all that.
Instead of fumbling for words, I reached for him, pushing up on my tiptoes to press my lips against his.
God bless werewolf strength because Maverick wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in tight. He did not hesitate one second.
His big hands anchored me, tucking my body against his chest. Dominating me, he walked me backward until my back met the cool metal of his truck. I was good and trapped, and I loved it.
His mouth covered mine, tasting me. His lips were softer, plusher than I had imagined, his beard tickling my face. All the rest of him was deliciously hard and I ate him up. I pressed closer, kissing him back.
HE WAS A MAGICAL KISSER.
I could have kissed the man all night. It helped that my hands were fisting his amazing hair, holding him tight. He was not getting away. He was mine . But then instead of holding me back some more, he nipped carefully at my lower lip, his tongue easing the erotic sting, and then he STEPPED AWAY. I may have moaned.
He grinned, opening his eyes, and making a deep, happy sigh-sound that told me loud and clear just how much he’d enjoyed our kiss. His eyes were amber, but I felt safer than I ever had.
Eric the Viking was right. I liked this man. And not just because he was hot and filled out his jeans in all the best spots—although I absolutely enjoyed watching him saunter across the set toward me—and not just because he was a kissing master—though that delicious alpha strain of kissing didn’t hurt any, either. He was charming yet honest. Blunt yet deep. Funny and humorous, but in a good-natured way that took no potshots or cheap shots. He was not a man who hurt others.
And he was looking at me as if I were the best ever.
Would he feel the same at the end of our date?