Page 2 of Accidentally Amy

He gave a little laugh. “Subtle, but effective.”

I set the napkins on the bar top beside us and bit down on my lower lip to stop myself from grinning.Because I should feel bad about scalding the man, right? Smiling is not the appropriate reaction here, correct?I cleared my throat and said, “I reallyamsorry. I’d be happy to get it dry-cleaned for you or something…? A better person would offer to replace it, but I have a feeling it’s out of my price range.”

He did the half-bark, half-laugh sound again that I could feel in my toes, and he said, “What makes you say that?”

“It’s soaking wet and I still can’t see through it. That has to mean it’s quality.”

“Were you trying to?” he asked.

“What—see through your shirt?”

He gave a nod.

I shrugged. “I wasn’t trying, per se, but Iama curious girl. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t checking for a third nipple.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, still sort of smiling butnow with a tiny wrinkle between his brows, and I knew my cheeks were turning red.Did you really just saythird nipple, you dumbass?Sometimes I wondered why it was so difficult for me to just keep my mouth shut.

He cleared his throat and said, “I promise there isn’t one, not that there’s anything wrong with having three.”

Ididgrin then. “I mean, the more the merrier, right?”

His mouth split into a slow, wide smile that was oddly powerful. It was almost like Ifeltit pass over me, like hot summer sun warming cool skin. “Are we sure that applies here?”

“Definitely not, but I couldn’t let a moment pass without speaking,” I said.

“I can see that about you.”

“Hey,” I said with a dose of fake offense, “just because I scalded your chest doesn’t mean you can insult me.”

“I feel like it actuallydoesmean that.”

“Fair.” I nodded in agreement and said, “I’ll even give you one more. Go.”

“This seems like a trap.”

“Do it,” I said, crossing my arms and wondering if he felt it, too, this delicious bit of chemistry. “Go. Slam me, bro.”

His eyes crinkled at the edges when he looked at me, like he was amused by the fact that someone would dare to call himbro, and he said, “Fine. I’m shocked you can see out of those glasses—they’re very dirty.”

“Oh, my God,” I said around a laugh, “youactuallyinsulted me.”

“You told me to,” he said, then he gestured with his hand—very big, not that I noticed—for me to give him my glasses.

“No.” I knew my eyebrows were all screwed together as I shook my head. “No.Seriously?”

“Come on.”

“Okay,” I relented, laughing at the ridiculousness as I removed my glasses and handed them to the guy. “Here you go.”

He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket—verynice suit, by the way—and pulled out a microfiber cloth. He looked down at my glasses (which were always dirty) as he buffed the lenses, and I wondered what in God’s name was actually happening.

Was thisGQmodel seriously cleaning the filth off my spectacles? I said, “They’re usually not—”

“Yes, I think they probably are,” he teased, without looking up.

“Yeah, they usually are,” I agreed as he handed them back. I slid them up the bridge of my nose, tilted my head, and said, “Oh, wow, you’re a man.”

For a split second he blessed me with a grin that acknowledged my stupid joke, but then…then.The grin was gone, and all that was left behind was this wildly potent, one-hundred-proof, undiluted expression of interest as he gave me full-on eye contact.With a jaw flex.The moment held, and I felt like I was being physically pulled closer to the guy. The entire world went quiet as an invisible string tugged me toward him.

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