Page 11 of Love in Fine Print

Opening my eyes, I did my best to keep my voice even and rational and not let the amount of pain I was in show. “I have no interest in playing the damsel in distress. The last thing I need is some knight in shining armor to ride up on a steel horse like Bon Jovi and save me.”

As if on cue, a black pickup truck pulled up beside us, and Ben jumped out of the driver’s side. I noticed two things. One, he’d put his shirt back on. Two, he looked like he was in an ad for Chevrolet, or some beer.

“He can ride my steel horse any time,” Trevor whispered beneath his breath.

Ben rushed toward me, but I held out my hand to stop him.

“Listen, I appreciate you offering to do this but?—”

I was mid-protest when Arm Porn scooped me up, like I weighed nothing, and carried me around to the passenger side of the truckAn Officer and a Gentlemanstyle.

As a proud card-carrying feminist, I hated to admit, but it was actually pretty hot.

When I glanced back at Trevor, he was fanning his face mid-swoon. I was certain that I’d just lived out one of his greatestfantasies. And I was surprised to admit that, apparently, I’d just lived out one of mine.

As Ben gently placed me into the truck, my face was about an inch from his neck. I didn’t mean to but I inhaled. When I did a fresh, woodsy, manly scent drifted up. Without running it by my brain first, my eyes closed and I leaned in and took another sniff. When I did, goosebumps broke out on my arms.

I opened my eyes and found Ben placing a seatbelt around me. When it clicked into place, he looked over at me and the entire world disappeared. All I was aware of was the fluttering in my belly, the pounding of my heart, and the tingles that were rushing through my body like white water rapids.

This was it. This was the feeling that made women, and men, idiots. I was experiencing it all. Butterflies. Goosebumps. Racing heart.

I’d lived thirty-five years without experiencing it. I was convinced, in fact, that I was immune to these feelings. But apparently, all it took was a nice fitting t-shirt, a smile that made my lady parts flutter, and arm porn to get me there.

“Are you okay?” Ben asked.

I didn’t trust myself to form words, so instead of replying I just nodded my head. Ben dipped out and rushed around to the driver’s side. He got in and pulled away from the curb. When we reached the first stoplight, a man walking across the street did a double-take into the truck. He hit his friend on the chest, pointed our direction, and yelled. “Rocket man!”

Ben lifted his hand in a wave at the same time the friend looked over and yelled.

“Whitaker!”

The light turned green, and cars started honking behind us. The two men were still trying to snap a picture as we drove away.

“Are you some sort of celebrity?”

“I used to play ball.”

It didn’t surprise me. His frame was broad, and he definitely had the height. And when he’d picked me up, I’d felt the solidness of that muscular frame. Oh boy, did I feel the solidness.

“Baseball?” I asked.

“Football.”

“In college?”

“Yes.” He paused for a moment before adding. “And the NFL.”

Some women might be impressed by that fact, but some women let men pee on them, I wasn’t either of those women. “I don’t really follow sports.”

“What do you do?” he asked as he turned and glanced in my direction.

His deep voice and close proximity were too much for my senses.

There it was again, the damn flutters. This time my cheeks joined the party and flushed with heat. “I’m a..an...I’m a...an...attorney.”

What in the hell was wrong with me? I’d never been a stutterer, and I’d be damned if a few pheromones were going to turn me into a bumbling idiot.

“What law do you practice?”

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