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“Hey, sweetheart.”
Genevieve startled at the husky sound of Whiskey’s voice as she ended the call with her mom. She turned in place as Whiskey came to a stop on the other side of the mounds of ribbon and bouquet wrapping paper that took up most of the counter space opposite her computer, trying to control her racing heart.
“A wedding this time of year. Must be nice. Who’s tying the know? Anyone I know?”
Her eyes swept over the hard set of his shoulders and gorgeous hazel eyes. It wasn’t her imagination he had a hungry spark behind jet black lashes this morning, but now a serious dullness had come over him despite his cheerful words.
She plucked at the fringes of loose ribbon. “Fancy seeing you again, Mr. Morgan. Did you stop by to get a special date some flowers?”
A deep, half-cocked grin beat back some of the gloom he carried. He braced his hand on the counter and leaned close. “Maybe. I’ll have to ask what her favorite flower is. Any recommendations for a first date?”
“First date, huh?” He was really going all out on playing their little game.
She swallowed a pool of drool. Those perfectly full lips and that deep, rich and somehow rough voice of his still had the power to make her wet between the legs and her mouth water.
Frustration chased a wave of lust through her body.
He’d lost the suit jacket and his white shirt clung to every muscle and though it had been years since she’d been in the same roomwith him, she wanted to climb the man like a tree and feel every groove and valley.
She loved his playful banter and was glad to see the sullen expression on his face fade. But she noted the lines around his eyes. Age touched everybody, but on him, it just looked good. They gave him a Hollywood air about him as if he belonged on the red carpet. She pictured him on a movie set as the suave and dashing hero of a romantic comedy—no, make that an action adventure with those insanely defined abs she could see behind his shirt. No heroine would be left unaffected. She knew for a fact his arms were heroine approved.
She cut off her runaway thoughts as her gaze traveled up the strip of navy blue that was his tie and landed on his face. Yep. The spark of hunger was back only this time his piercing eyes lassoed her close and refused to let her go.
“Remember the last time we were here alone?” His deep voice slid over her and reached for a place he hadn’t touched in longer than she cared to remember.
From behind the counter, she raked her eyes over his lips, his breathy words brushing over her lightly from how close he leaned in. “Whiskey,” she groaned.
Groaned? What the hell was she? Eighteen again with rampant hormones?
“You had the prettiest little summer dress on, no panties and cock-teased me all day.”
“Yes, well, that was a helluva long time ago.”
She tried for nonchalance but knew she failed.
A low rumbling chuckle had her nipples puckering against her worn and faded Bon Jovi T-shirt and she felt the second his eyes raked over them. He leaned forward, his arms braced wide until his lips caressed against her ear. “And I made you come over a bed of gardenias. You smelled like a flower, and tasted like pure, sweet sin.”
She inhaled sharply. Arrogant bastard.
But her traitorous nipples didn’t seem to think so. In fact, they liked the way his voice teased them into hard peaks and don’t get her started on what her dripping vagina wanted. If words could do this to her what would happen when he touched her again?
She pulled back, narrowing her eyes and his eyes dipped south landing on her ample chest.
She cleared her throat and busied her hands with the mess on the counter. “You know, I remember when you sat across from me in Mr. Miller’s history class and used to throw spit wads at me during exams. In the fifth grade. Or was it the sixth?” That had been ground zero to their relationship.
He grinned, rubbing a hand around the back of his neck looking slightly abashed. “About that, I didn’t think that would come up until at least dessert. Does a sorry count, even if a little late?”
“I don’t know. Scarred me for life, you know.” Enjoying teasing him a bit longer, she set a hip against the counter and winked at him.
He scoffed. “Scarred? Hardly. I’m the one that got all my books and best suede shoes soaked with your bucket of water prank.”
“You can thank my brothers for that little trick. But you have to admit, it was well earned if you recall.”
“My mother was livid over the shoes for a month and I had to work with the kitchen staff to help earn back their worth.”
“Hard times for young Morgan, I’m sure. Cupcake?” She pointed to the glass case behind her as much to distract him as it was to have her hands busy instead of itching to feel that decadent body again.
It was damn sexy seeing a strong, confident man amused by their shared childhood memories. No doubt he’d forgotten about her buck teeth but the hunger in his eyes told her he hadn’t forgotten the taste of her on his lips.
