Page 12 of The Friend

Reaching out to smooth an imaginary crease from the silk draped like liquid lava across her lower thigh, he said, “I did say wear something sexy and boy, does this dress deliver.”

“Clothes make the woman?”

She had him there. If he agreed she’d know he thought she was sexy. If he disagreed he looked like a heel.

Thankfully, the waiter arrived as he wracked his brain for a quick response. He deposited an icy beer in front of him and a wicked concoction of Cointreau, Galliano, pineapple juice, and cream in a champagne glass for Abby.

“What’s this?” She took a sip, her eyes widening imperceptibly as a faint pink stained her cheeks. “On second thoughts, don’t answer that. It’s got a kick like a mule and perhaps it’s better I don’t know. What my liver doesn’t know won’t hurt it.”

Struggling to keep a triumphant smile off his face, he said, “A Hot Dream.”

To his immense satisfaction, the pink in her cheeks deepened to crimson.

“Mmm…nice,” she murmured, her gaze firmly focused on the cherry stuck on the end of paper umbrella wedged precariously on the edge of her glass.

Her non-committal answer only spurred him on and he chugged on his beer before taking his teasing one step further.

“So, you like hot dreams, huh?”

Her gaze flew to his and for a split second he could’ve sworn he glimpsed a flicker of desire before she masked it with her telltale sass.

“The drink’s great.” Raising her glass in his direction, she said, “As for the rest, you’ll never know.”

“Is that right?”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, swirling the cocktail in slow, rhythmic circles as she stared into the drink as if hypnotised. “Where’s Tom, by the way?”

Startled by her swift change of topic, and more disgruntled at her mention of the big guy than he’d like to be, he said,“Probably terrorising some poor single woman somewhere. Why?”

She sipped her cocktail and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “I was hoping to run into him tonight. I need a big, strong man to help me move some stuff for tomorrow’s shoot.”

“And what am I? Chopped liver?”

Her blue eyes gleamed, mischief etched across her face. “Think you can handle it?”

She reached over and squeezed his bicep as if testing his strength. “Mmm…not bad.”

And just like that, his libido shifted into overdrive. He tried not to react, wondering what had gotten into him. Abby was his best friend, had been forever, the one constant in his life when the rest of it had threatened to spiral out of control. She knew about his dad, the lack of money growing up, the way he’d had to fight for his education, accepting scholarships when he hated taking charity from anyone.

Yet here he was reacting to her simple touch that left him with a burning desire to push their friendship to the limit.

What the hell was he thinking?

Instilling the right amount of casualness into his voice, he said, “Lady, I can handle anything you care to dish out.”

“Really?”

She let her hand drop though he was sure she’d let it linger longer than necessary. Or was that a figment of his overheated imagination? The way it had gone haywire since he’d set foot on this damn island and seen her again, he wouldn’t be surprised if smoke started pouring out of his ears like some crazy cartoon character.

“Really.” He folded his arms to stop from reaching out and doing something even more disastrous, like hauling her onto his lap.

Damn, this wasn’t working out as he planned. He’d wanted to flirt a little, makehersquirm, yet his body was way out of control.

Why the insane impulse to throw caution to the wind and get physical with the one woman he should leave alone?

“If you think you can handle anything, follow me.” She stood and smoothed her skirt, the action drawing his attention to her long legs bare beneath the silky fabric of her dress. “And bring those biceps.”

She winked as she cast a knowing glance over her shoulder and caught him staring at her legs.

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