"The charm, I guess." She made a general wave in my direction, and I caught sight of the scars on the back of her hand again. "Or what passes for it. The teasing, the little smiles, thetouches..."
"I won't touch you." I folded my arms over my chest as if I were in danger of touching her by accident. "Christ. Do I seem like the kind of guy who touches a woman who doesn't want to betouched?"
"Not like that, that's not what I meant." Her tone was almost conciliatory.Almost.
I couldn’t stop myself. "So you do want to betouched?"
"Rob," she said again. "Knockitoff."
I looked at her innocently over the top of my iced coffee, biting down on the end of my straw. As much as I admired how straightforward she was, it wasn’t my style to talk about myfeelings.
"I'll knock it off," I promised. "Justfriends."
But when it came down to it, I wasn't sure Icould.
Naomi was my girl. Always had been, alwayswouldbe.
Even if she didn’t believeityet.
