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I snapped my head up to glare at him. “Your arrogance is easily one of your least attractive features.”
“Really?” he asked.
“Really.”
He inched closer. “That infers there are features about me you find attractive.”
“I never said that,” I protested, fighting the urge to lean away and show my discomfort. He was close enough I could smell his cologne, which made me think of a leather jacket that was left close to a stick of quality sandalwood incense, which, of course, forced me to fight with myself not to take a noticeable deep breath of the scent.
“Hence why I said it was inferred.”
“Or it just means you have a long list of unlikable traits, and that one takes the top spot.”
His chuckle came out like a rumble, and I felt my stomach flutter as he moved closer, leaning one arm on the table. His hand brushed mine, and I didn’t pull it away immediately as I felt my breath catch. He was easily within kissing distance, and I wasn’t sure whether I should push him away or stay where I was. My pride demanded the former, while the latter came from the squeeze in my chest.
“Tell me something,” he said softly, and I found myself watching his lips intently.
“What?” I asked, somehow managing to sound steady and in control.
“How much are you attracted to me compared to how much you dislike me?”
The question threatened to throw me off-balance and leave me a babbling mess. I realized at that moment if he chose to close the distance between us, I wasn’t sure what I’d do in response. As much as I wanted to claim I would push him away, cursing him roundly and reporting him to Rhonda, I also knew it wasn’t the only voice in my head. The other voice, just as loud, desperately wanted him to close the distance. Annoyance and lust swirled through me, and I wondered how those two things could exist in tandem.
“You are the world’s worst straight man,” I told him finally, still trying to align my thoughts.
His lips curled at the corner, as proud of himself as ever. I was half-tempted to punch it off his face. “That’s avoiding the question.”
“That doesn’t make me wrong.”
“Or maybe I’m not nearly as straight as I once thought.”
“Right, and I’m the one who suddenly made you start questioning your sexuality,” I told him caustically, finally summoning enough anger to fight back. I still hadn’t pushed him away or stopped appreciating his smell, but it was a start. “If that’s the line you’re going to use, I’m concerned for whatever one you used on the women you’ve seduced.”
“Normally, ‘I want to get you alone’ works just fine,” he said, his eyes sweeping over my face.
“Oh, then I’m special enough to make you question your sexuality and get a custom-made pickup line, be still my heart,” I told him, finally reaching up to place my hand against his chest and push him firmly away. And if my fingers happened to curl to get a feel of his chest muscles, I certainly didn’t need to admit it to anyone.
For a moment he didn’t move, and I felt the beginnings of panic that he might, in fact, try to screw with me further. A heartbeat after the thought, however, he leaned back and took a few slow steps away. I only spared a glance, so I couldn’t confirm it, but I would almost swear that the bulge in his pants had grown a little larger.
“You’re an interesting man,” he said, rubbing his jaw.
Without the scent of cologne hanging around me, I felt like I could finally breathe. It had been a near thing, and I had no idea just how much he managed to read from my face. If he saw something he wanted, his expression gave no indication. Instead, there was the same look of analysis on his face, though this time, it was more pensive than anything.
“And you’re an irritating one,” I told him with a scowl.
He laughed, running a hand through his hair and backing up. “So I’ve been told. It’s a shame I only get to see you on the job. I wonder what you’d be like without the chains of professionalism on your wrists?”
“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” I said, jerking my eyes away from the screen. “Because your pickup lines are awful.”
“Normally, I don’t have to work this hard,” he said.
“At what?” I asked, not sure I wanted the answer.
I could see him moving further back before he spoke again. “Enjoy your Halloween.”
When I looked up again, it was to the sight of an empty kitchen, save for myself. He had slipped out of the room, this time without so much as a quip or witty retort. That was somehow more unnerving than anything he’d done before, including nearly getting into my face. Even more so, something was unsettling about the quiet way he’d reacted to me pushing him aside.
As if he had been rejected and wasn’t sure how to process it.
