Page 10 of Sexy Bad Valentine

“Me too,” I sputter. “One night stands R us, right here. So many one night stands you wouldn’t believe it.” Why am I rambling? Why can’t I shut up? “The amount of times I had one night stands in the back of my coupe; heck not even nights. Just like hours, during the day. So many.”

He’s standing there with his lips pressed together, his brown eyes sparkling with amusement.

I hold my hands out in front of me to indicate a large amount. Can’t seem to help myself. “So, so many.”

“How many?” He walks toward me.

“Um.” I have to concentrate. “In total?”

“Yes.” He takes my elbow, guiding me through the house to the kitchen where a bottle of white is open on the counter. Beside which there are two wine glasses. Barclay is asleep, spread across the middle of the floor like a shag pile rug.

“One.” I exhale, my shoulders dropping. “One slutty adventure in my car one time.”

“But you dated?” He pours me a glass, holding it out for me to take.

“Of course.” I swallow the light and sweetly fruity vintage. “In high school. A little in college, but I dropped out. Now who has time?”

“I’m glad you don’t.” He rests his butt against the glossy white kitchen cabinets and bestows what must be his very best panty melting smile. “Otherwise how would I get to spend time with you?”

It kind of works. I’m not sure my panties wouldn’t entirely dissolve, except for the fact... “About that.” I take another swallow, hide my words in the rim of the glass. I regret not giving the contract more thought right about now. “I just signed up for a dating show.”

“What?” He frowns. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“I signed up for a dating show. Puppy Love. I’m not going to have time for anything between nannying and the show. That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier.”

“You signed up for Puppy Love?” He gapes at me.

“Yes. I sent back the contract this afternoon.”

“The contract?” He walks toward me.

“Are you okay? You’re repeating everything I say.”

“Am I?” He’s close enough to touch now, near enough that with one more step, his scent could once again fog my brain and his breath flutter my hair. But he stops before any of those things can happen. His arm is fluid muscle as he rubs his hand over his mouth, and I consider asking if he’s ever been photographed for forearm porn, because they make me all gooey inside. Dropping his hand back to his side, he seems to shake off whatever has grabbed him. “Sorry. That was unexpected is all.”

“What do you mean?” Is he weirded out by the idea that I would go on a dating show? Do I not seem like the kind of girl who would put her fate in the hands of some game?

“I didn’t... I have to make a phone call.” He turns around abruptly, picking up his cell from where it rests beside the half empty bottle of wine. “A work thing. I forgot about it. I’m sorry.”

“Sure.” I put down my still close to full glass. “Do you want me to go?”

“Um.” He glances at his watch. Damn, those chiselled forearms must be worth their weight when it comes to the fairer sex. “I don’t know how long I’m going to be. It might take a while.”

“I’ll just let myself out then,” I say. That’s probably for the best anyway. Is he uncomfortable that I’m doing the show, or that I’m talking about dating other people while we’re hanging out? Either way it’s odd that a man who clarifies his own encounters with women as an act would not make a move based on my dating situation. I would have thought it wouldn’t have mattered that much.

“That would be great.”

He’s almost out of the room, already tapping on the screen of his phone. With a shrug, I turn in the opposite direction, toward the front door. Really, what expectations did I have for tonight? That I might get to finish my wine? That he might have tried to seduce me?

“Evie?” He calls out after me, and I pause. “I’m going to text you tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

I nod my head, twice in sharp succession. I bet he says that to all the girls.

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