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“Okay, so you’re saying that the women you’ve dated in the past were tall. But that’s not necessarily your preference.”
He pretended to think about that for a moment, but in reality, he was contemplating kissing her. Did she like hard kisses? Or soft, coaxing ones?
“I don’t think I have a height preference, but–”
She shook her head and stood up. “Stand up and check my height,” she ordered.
Tim looked at her, fighting not to notice her breasts that were right at eye level. Okay, not “right” at his eye level. He had to tilt his head back a bit.
“Tim?” she prompted.
He sighed and stood. Immediately, he breathed in her strawberry scent. Damn, he liked that smell! He’d have to figure out how to bottle that scent. Tim hadn’t experimented with scents, other than to ensure that the products Larmpo Industries released to the markets didn’t smell awful. But with that strawberry scent wafting up to his nostrils, he wondered why they weren’t trying to manufacture specific scents. Because whatever perfume she was wearing was intoxicating.
“So, am I too short?” Raven prompted. “What’s the ideal height?”
He blinked at her, still reeling from her delicious scent.
“I don’t think I have a height preference,” he replied, astonished that his voice sounded so gravelly. Quickly, he lowered himself back into his seat and took another sip of his coffee. As the heat burned down his throat, he felt more grounded.
Until she sat down again. She wore a silk blouse and…with her pale skin, Raven shouldn’t look good in white. White should blanch her out. And yet, somehow, the white silk made her look…flushed.
Interesting, he thought.
Then his eyes dropped to the V formed by her blouse. He couldn’t tell if they were big or small because the sweater was too bulky. He wanted to order her to wear a blouse instead. That way, he could better assess her figure.
Instead, Tim pressed his lips together, refusing to make a fool of himself. Yeah, he knew that he was sometimes clueless about human reactions, but even he knew that ordering a woman to wear a tight sweater, one that was pink…no blue…yes, blue to match her eyes…that would be a bad thing.
“So any height,” she concluded, nodding and writing something in that notebook. Earlier, Tim had become irritated by her notes, but now, he realized that every time she wrote something in that annoying notebook, he got a shadowy glimpse of her cleavage. Damn, he felt like a pathetic voyeur, peeking at that shadow. And yet, he couldn’t look away, even though he knew it was wrong.
“What about hair color?”
His eyes lifted to her nearly black hair. “Dark,” he replied.
She blinked and he wondered what her eyes would look like when she climaxed.
“You haven’t dated any blonds?”
Of course he had. But that was irrelevant. This time, he shook his head, blatantly lying. “I prefer the contrast of dark hair against pale skin.” He realized how that might come across, especially since he was staring at her pale skin and dark hair. “Irish,” he clarified. Now, where the hell had that come from? He could just imagine his Irish friend, Sean’s, expression if he ever heard that Tim was attracted to Irish looking women.
Yeah, he was losing it. And his logical brain rebelled at the idea. But there was something inside of him, something new and unfamiliar, that accepted the illogical responses he was giving to Raven.
“Eye color?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say “Blue.” But he restrained himself just in time. “I don’t often notice eye color,” he lied again.
“Good. That gives me more options.” She leaned back, reviewing her notes. Then asked, “What about careers? Are you looking for someone just like you? Or the opposite?”
Suddenly, he noticed a couple behind her. They were snapping at each other in hushed tones, both obviously angry. The man reached for her arm, but the woman pulled away, pointing her forefinger at the man. From this distance, he couldn’t hear their conversation. But from the expression on her features, as well as the man’s, it was obvious that she was saying something along the lines of “Don’t you dare!” before she turned and stalked out of the coffee shop.
“Tim?” Raven prompted.
Only after ensuring that the man wasn’t going to follow the woman did he turn back to Raven. Then he sighed, that logical half of his brain kicking into high gear. “I think it would be best if I was mated with someone who was as logical as I am, preferably someone who is also in the chemistry industry. I would like to be able to talk about my work when I get home. I’d like that person to understand what I’m talking about.” He downed the last of his coffee, cringing because it was now cold. “And I’d like to hear what she is doing as well.” He looked up, noticing a soft understanding in Raven’s eyes. That twisting sensation hit him anew and he still didn’t understand it, so he ignored the feeling.
“Anything else?”
Her eyes widened slightly, but she looked down at her notes. She’d taken several pages of scrawled notes and he couldn’t decipher her handwriting when it was upside down like that. But he wanted to read her observations.
Hell, he wanted to toss her notebook away and pull her into his arms.
