Page 39 of Out of Sight

“Seriously! You bring out the flirt in me. Well, you and Big Jim,” he smirked, nodding his head over to the couch where Jim was going through paperwork on his laptop. I’d forgotten all about him. Again. “I never really have the time to hang out with girls-”

“I would hope not. Women on the other hand…”

“Okay, fine. Women. I don’t really spend a lot of time hanging out with women. The last woman I dated was a while ago.”

“How long?”

“Well, I dated this one woman right after I got out of prison, but it didn’t last more than a couple weeks. And obviously I didn’t date while in prison.”

“I wouldn’t judge you if you did,” I teased.

He gave me a saucy wink. “Before that I was dating the same person from high school through college.”

“You went to college?” I was surprised, though maybe I shouldn’t have been.

“Don’t freak out. It was community college and I never graduated. I had to drop out to work more hours before I ever got a degree.”

“I’m not freaking out.”

I totally was.

Will was handsome. Funny. Strong. Sexy. Family oriented. Loyal. Committed. Educated. Apparently a one-woman man and only flirted so outrageously with me? And to top off all these positive attributes was his budding bromance with an upstanding citizen like Jim Marshall. Jim had good instincts, and if Jim thought he was a good man…

What was it about him that I ever hated in the first place?

He’s a criminal.

But he wasn’t anymore, right? And he was only a criminal in the first place to afford to take care of his sister.

It was time to face it: I was more than a little smitten. What else could I be if I of all people was making excuses for illegal activity? I had to change the subject before he figured me out.

“What did you major in?” I asked, taking another long drink.

“Never really got that far, honey. I was just taking a bunch of different classes each semester to figure out what I liked. I never ended up with a clear idea of… Are you okay? Why are you looking at me like that?”

I mentally shook off the fond admiration I was feeling and physically shook what I was sure was a really stupid expression off my face.

He can’t know how I feel about him.

“Is it the shake? Does it taste bad?” He pulled my tumbler to his lips and drank from the straw. His lips rested where mine were, pulling the drink into his mouth, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Then he withdrew, his tongue darting out to lick those damn lips and capture any lingering taste.

But why not?

“It tastes fine to me. Are you feeling alright? You look a little flushed.”

“I think I’m just a little—” hot and bothered “—tired from that workout. A bit dehydrated I think.”

“Maybe you should rest. Here, let me take care of you, honey.”

And the damn man helped me up with one hand on my elbow and the other guiding me at my lower back. He swiped up my tumbler, then led me upstairs to my room, setting the shake on my nightstand.

“Drink some of that up before you take a nap, okay? The protein will help with your recovery.”

“I will,” I promised. He turned to leave, but I had one more question for him.

“Why do you call me ‘honey’ all the time?”

His cheeks actually turned a light shade of pink as he hesitated. “It’s you. Your hair, your eyes. You’re the color of silky, raw honey, and oh so sweet like it, too. I just want to consume and taste it all…”

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