Page 39 of The Enemy Face Off

But spending an hour, in a car, alone, with Milo?

Sooonot fine.

Nope. I need to keep my distance from him. I've already let him slip under my first round of armor, that's as far as he's goingto get. I've reached the edge of my comfort zone, and I am not prepared to go any further.

There's a tap on my window, and I scream.

It's Milo.

With my hand on my pounding heart, I shove the car door open, step out, and glare up at his stupidly handsome face, stubbled jaw line, and man-bunned head. "You scared me half to death."

"Well, it's great to see you, too." His green eyes meet mine, a hint of a smile curling his lips. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here, remember?"

"I mean, what are you doing back home? I thought you were with your family."

"I was. Got back yesterday. Needed to escape."

"Got it. Um…" He scratches the back of his neck. I don't know if he's wearing a super tight Christmas sweater on purpose, or whether the sweater material has no choice but to cling to his massive muscles, but either way, I've got front row seats for the Milo Payne gun show.

Also, aren't Christmas sweaters meant to be cheesy and not at all sexy?

And also number two…"How come you're not wearing a suit?"

"I don't like driving in a suit," Milo explains. "If I leave now, I'll have time to get changed when I get there."

"Right."

"Um…"

"That's the second time you'reummmingat me," I say. "Spit it out, already."

"Okay. Well…You were home all day yesterday?"

"I was."

"Had I known, I would have…uh…you…You could have come over, you know?"

"But I had books to read."

"Of course you did." He bites back a smile and taps the roof of my car. "Everything okay?"

"No. The stupid thing won't start. And don't say it." I point a finger at him, but I overreach and the tip of my index finger lands on his pec.

His granite-hard pec.

A crease forms on his forehead. "Don't say what?"

My finger remains superglued to his body. "Don't say something like,'Want me to have a look at it…'" I try to mimic his deep voice, but it's a poor imitation since his voice isactuallydeep. And masculine. Not that that's important right now.

I continue, because I'm just warming up. "…assuming I know nothing about fixing cars. To which I'll respond with a relieved, 'Oh, yes, thank you, Milo. Why, I don't know what I would have done without you.'"

Not exactly sure why I put on a Southern belle accent when I do not speak like a Southern belle, but I'm too deep into my rant to pause and dissect that right now.

"And then you'd smile, all pleased with yourself, and say something like,'Well, why don't you pop the hood?'your voice laced with innuendo. And then you'd take your sweater off because you wouldn't want it to get dirty or something. And then before you know it, you've got grease stains all over yourself. And of course you can't be a normal guy with a normal body,nooo, you've got to be all rugged and muscular with an eight-pack because six-pack abs are so three years ago. And then, because I feel bad you got so dirty fixing my car, I'd offer to sponge the stains off your chiseled torso and before you know it…"

He steps in closer, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Please continue. I want to hear how the rest of this scenario plays out."

---