Page 26 of Touchdowns and Temptations

“And don't you dare whistle at me again,” she shouts without turning around.

8

Cara

I'm starting to think that Noah McCarter is stalking me. Even though that's completely ridiculous. It was a coincidence that he and Alex were in the same Uber as the one I ordered to take me home. It's amazing how often I run into the McCarter twins these days, and I know for a fact that one of them wants to go out with me. And now he's going to drive me home. I must be completely crazy. Everything we're doing here is doing absolutely nothing to help me keep my resolution, and it's not helping us build a purely professional relationship with each other. Which we're not doing, just because he has my personal cell phone number. Our working relationship is not official yet. We're still waiting for his lawyer to review the contract. Once Noah is my client, he will no longer drive me home. That's unprofessional.

Noah opens the car door, and the headlights come on. They shine at us, illuminating his face in that orange glow that makes me grin.

“What's so funny?” he asks, opening the driver's door. With a heavy heart, I walk to the passenger side of my car. I hate it when other people drive my cars.

“The orange of the headlights flatters your face.”

Noah laughs and adjusts the seat, then the rearview mirror.

“Don't pretend,” I say, looking at him. “I hate that.”

“Excuse me for being at least eight inches taller than you,” he says, rolling his eyes. “No one can sit here.”

“I didn't force you to drive me.”

“I know,” he admits, turning on the engine with the start button. It roars to life and he grips the leather-covered steering wheel. I buckle up and watch him. To be honest, Noah looks pretty damn good in my car. He's wearing a black V-neck t-shirt that accentuates his muscular chest and a pair of jeans. He's either not wearing a jacket because it's still very warm or he left it in the Uber.

The car rolls away and he steers it onto the street. I look away from him and out the window.

“Can you put in the address?” he asks, and I look at him again. “I don't know where you live.”

“Sure,” I say absentmindedly and he smiles at me. “Sorry.” I tap my saved address called ‘Home’ and press ‘Start’.

Noah looks at the navigation system and opens his mouth when he sees the area. “You have your own villa?” he asks. “Wow.”

“No,” I mumble, crossing my fingers because it makes me a little uncomfortable in front of him that I still live with my parents. But it's the best solution so far. I'm looking for a place of my own. I hope Noah didn't think I was going to invite him over for drink so he could have sex with me. He can forget it. Not only because of my parents.

“I live with my parents. The house is huge. But I'm looking for an apartment.”

“Okay,” he says, smiling. “You're very close, aren't you?”

"My parents and I?" I ask, glad for the small talk. The thought of us keeping quiet all the way home drives me crazy.

“Yes,” Noah says. “Your parents and you.”

“Yes,” I answer with a smile. “I'm their only child and, of course, we're close. I love being with them and I'm glad we all live in Boston now. Still, I'd like to have my own place.”

“I understand that.” He grins and leans back. My Mercedes is an automatic, and Noah casually rests his right arm on the center console and steers the car through the dense Boston traffic with his left hand. God, he's so insanely sexy. I'm really tempted to imagine this happening more often now. Him at the wheel and me as his girl next to him. We could drive to his place together, or he’d drive me home. I quickly look away.

“Alex and I see our parents very rarely.”

“You're from Tennessee, right?”

“Yes.” He grins. “A real country boy.” Noah winks at me. “You think that's sexy?”

“You in a plaid shirt with a lasso in your hand and cows next to you?”

“I was thinking more of a guitar and a campfire,” he replies. “But if you like cows and lassos better.” Noah looks at me and I shake my head, laughing. Still, I have to admit that he would certainly look good in a plaid shirt. “I'm flexible, honestly.”

“What's life like there?” I ask. “A normal family, a small, cozy house with just enough rooms for everyone?” The words just flow out of my mouth, but I'm really interested. All I know is villas, endless luxury and a family that never had time. My parents love me, I know that, but they were very busy. I don't have any brothers or sisters, so I was often alone. Since Mom and Dad came from normal backgrounds, I occasionally observed those normal families at my grandmother's house in New Jersey. But I never played with the children. It never happened, and my grandmother didn't want to spend all the time she had with me on playgrounds.

“Life in Tennessee?” he asks. “It's monotonous. Everybody knows everybody.”

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