“I’d love to meet her. Ryder thinks she’s great.” Dreading hearing him say more, Claire carried the plate to the sink, dumping their crusts into the trash. She rinsed and placed it in the dishwasher.
When she turned around, she reveled in his hungry ogle, wishing the forlorn weren’t laced in there. Yeah, she probably should have worn more than the sweater. A few wrong angles, or right, depending on your perspective, and he’d get a hell of a show.
Knowing he was watching, that he had the player reputation, already confessing his attraction to her, while they were both seeing other people... well, she would hate herself for it later, but she needed toknow, before sayingI doorI don’t. Or,yesorno-thank-you, as Ryder had yet to actually propose. She reached up into the cupboard, her sweater sliding up and flashing him a view of her tiny shorts, leaving no doubt that the lower curve of her butt was visible. Not looking back this time, needing that sliver of hope, she filled the glass and downed it, thirstier than ever.
Coming up for air, she glanced back at him, enjoying his jaw-dropped heated look.
“What?” he asked.
What had she asked him? Oh yeah. That. “How long have you been seeing Trace?”
“We’re not seeing each other. We went out tonight, and I was hoping something would click, as I really don’t enjoy lusting after my brother’s fiancée, but Trace will always be my sister’s friend.” Blinking, he shook his head and took a deep breath, then stalked to the liquor cabinet. Even the man’s walk was a nice sight. Hips steady, shoulders back, he maintained a casual elegance that was darkened by a tempered edge. “Whiskey?”
Unable to resist, Claire slid back onto the stool, her pulse pinging under her skin, wanting him to ask her again with that sultry tone. And again. And again. “Please.”
Hands steady, he poured a double for each of them and slid her drink onto the granite, the glass gliding over the stone, the amber liquid oscillating in rhythm.
She picked up her glass and asked, “To what are we toasting?”
Without shifting the stool further away, as he should, he sat next to her. His knee leaned against hers and swiftly jerked back. “Terrible relationships.” He raised his glass in salute.
The phrase rattled through her skull. With a knowing nod, she clinked her glass against his and downed the whiskey in one long, burning gulp that seared her throat.
Eyes wide, he watched as she licked the final drip from her lower lip. Gaze not straying from her mouth, he downed his glass.
Breathless, she let the warm-and-fuzzy loosen her stiff shoulders. And her haywire brain. “If we I-Nevered bad luck at relationships, I would absolutely win.”
“Not a chance. I am the reigning champ at that one.”
The corners of her lips twitching as she turned the never into a dare, she nodded. “Prove it.”
“Where do I start?” He rose from the island and grabbed the whiskey, then poured another shot for each of them.
“From the beginning.”
“Jenny Mitchell. Kindergarten. I held my hand out to reassure her when the school nurse was delivering measles shots. She screamed. Not from the shot, but at the idea of holding hands with me.”
“Ouch. That is terrible. Barry Minor. Eighth grade. Kissed me at the bus stop, then bragged to all his friends when we got to school that we’d had sex. I spent the next three and a half years trying to convince everyone that I was a virgin.”
“Prick. I’m sorry. Three and a half years?” He didn’t budge when she leaned into him. Instead, proving just how unlucky she was, he didn’t move away and instead fused the connection.
“Backseat of Justin Malkovich’s mother’s sedan. It was as terrible and uncomfortable as it sounded. And he also bragged to the entire school. I gave up arguing. I made the unofficial school yearbook awards asMost Promiscuous. For one guy, once.”
“Shit. How many guys have you been with?”
“Three. Come on, I’m winning here.” She hiccupped the last word.
He nudged her. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m a lightweight.” A giggle erupted from deep in her throat.
He bopped her nose delicately with the knuckle of his pointer finger. “I might be too.”
“Come on, you’re up. Terrible relationships.”
“On my first trip home from law school, I, uh... I walked in on my girlfriend, with, um...”
“Who?”
