Page 40 of Never Kiss and Tell

“That’s none of your business.”

He takes a step forward and, instinctively, I take one back.

“If you must know, I was working on a book I’m writing,” I say, mostly to get him to leave me alone.

“A book?” he asks, intrigued. “Is this the study on . . . what did you call me?”

He smirks and it shocks me. I’ve never seen him smile before. It’s not bad — actually, my stomach does a somersault. But then, the smile fades and we’re back to angry,my dick is made of gold, Charlie.

“No,” I shake my head. “It’s a new one.All Five Thousand Reasons Charlie Coulter is a Dick.”

His face darkens and he takes another step toward me. I take another step back, stumbling into the wall of lockers behind me.

“You didn’t seem to mind when you were shoving your tongue down my throat the other night.”

My face burns and I peek around him for signs that someone else heard what he said. In the kitchen, everyone is working, joking, and otherwise, not paying a single ounce of attention to us, at all, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t listening.

“Listen,” I say, dropping my voice and putting a hand out to stop him from getting any closer. I make the mistake of placing it on his stomach, which feels like it’s made of stone. He looksdown to where my hand touches him and then back up, his eyes flashing like lightning. “The other night shouldn’t have happened. We both know that was a mistake.”

His face darkens, so much so that it scares me. I wish I could take another step back because when he steps closer, I have nowhere to go. He bridges the gap between us, until I can feel the heat off his body through my clothes and the edge of his jeans just barely scrapes against my bare legs, making my skin pebble. He takes my chin in his hand, tilting my head up to look at him.

His lips hover over mine and he searches my face. All the air in the room is sucked out and I feel like I can’t breathe.

“So tell me not to kiss you,” he taunts, his voice lower and rougher than usual.

God, if you’re listening, I know we don’t talk much, but please give me the strength to walk away from that deep, growly voice.

I can’t hear anything over the drumming of blood in my ears. A heaviness settles between my thighs, my skin on fire.

“Kiss or not,” I breathe. “You’re still an asshole. And that kiss was still a mistake.”

Without warning, he leans down, sealing his lips over mine and my entire world turns on its axis. Charlie doesn’t just kiss. He claims. He tastes like tobacco and something sinister. The little devil on my shoulder screams at me to move closer.

A hungry moan releases from his throat as muscular arms wrap around me. He pulls my hips to his, deepening the kiss and sliding his tongue along mine. He’s warm, strong, and overpowering. My body reacts and I cup his cheek in my hand, wrapping my other arm around his neck. I reach up on mytiptoes to get closer to him, a quiet sigh escaping me.

He pushes away, releasing me, his jaw clenched. I stumble back against the lockers, my breathing heavy and my core aching and pulsing with need. He steps back, wiping my lipstick from his mouth on the back of his hand.

“That wasn’t a mistake.” Then, just like the other night, he leaves me standing in the middle of the store room, staring after him, dumbfounded. I reach up and touch my lips, which are still tingling from his kiss.

I lean my head back against the lockers, willing my breathing to calm before I exit the store room.

“Holy shit.”

The restaurant is the busiest I’ve seen since I arrived in New Orleans. There’s not a single empty table the entire night.

My mood doesn’t help any. I’m in the middle of a serious battle with my uterus over who’s body this really is. Though I had thought my period was over, my cramps are astounding and they really put a damper on the whole on-your-feet-for-six-hours-straight thing.

There’s a new girl on the shift, as well. She’s cute, probably a little younger than me, and tiny. She’s like one of those pint-sized ice creams you can get that make you want to devour the whole thing in one sitting.

She disgusts me.

If there’s anyone to compete in cheer withBarney andFriends, it’s Miss Candace Lawrence, or Candy. She’s a walking bombshell of pin-straight chocolate hair that hangs down her back to her butt, which I might add, is stellar. Her skin is perfectly clear and her chocolate brown eyes sparkle whenever she looks at you. She’s working closely with Marybeth, just as I had done, and she seems to be taking a toll on the seasoned waitress.

Marybeth meets me at the kitchen window when Candy’s on break, looking as frazzled as ever.

“You alright, Mary?” I ask, placing a cautious hand on her shoulder. Lionel watches our exchange as he flips a sizzling burger on the grill in front of us.

She lets out a loud exhale. “No,” she whispers, checking around her to make sure no one’s nearby. “She’s driving me nuts. She’s just too damn perky. I want to be mad and she wants to throw unicorn shit and eat butterflies and it’s pissing me off.”

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