Page 2 of The Christmas Gift

“Ah.”

Her gaze shot to his too late to check herself.Drat!He had made that pitiful sound on purpose. “Was that a sympathetic ah,” she asked, “or, a your-nights’-about-to-be-better-than-mine ah?”

“I haven’t decided.”

There was that draw-you-in cheeky smile again.

Just ignore him, Ivy. His opinion doesn’t matter. Tomorrow, you’ll blow out of Wheelcaster and on a plane to Maryland for a quick follow-up on a previous job, then on to your dream project in Bourbon, Texas. When your date shows, you’ll never see Mr. swoony man-bun again. Nine minutes.Was it her imagination or was time slowing down?

“I’ll keep you company until your date arrives.” Turning in his seat, he signaled a passing waitress. “Waiting is a bitch.”

That was code for, ‘you’re about to be stood up, you poor girl.’ Shouldn’t he be running? Wasn’t he afraid she’d spend the rest of the evening complaining about men, their manners, or some other shortcomings?

“That’s generous of you,” she said darkly.

She wished he wasn’t generous at all. If her assumptions were correct about his tone, she didn’t want an audience to the derailing of her perfectly planned evening.

“Oh, I’m not fixin’ to be generous.” His gaze was piercing.

What did he mean? The pit of her stomach did a little flip that sent a sizzle of electricity to her panties. This was the second time her sex-deprived body responded to him. It wasn’t lost on her that from the moment he sat, he’d ticked the ‘good looking’ box on her checklist. She clamped her mouth and her legs shut, resolving to ignore him and her tingling body parts. When he kept staring, her curiosity got the better of her. “It’s Friday night in a beautiful city, don’t you have plans?”

“I didn’t until I saw you from the bar.”

“Ain’t I lucky,” she mimicked his drawl and he laughed.

“How late is he?” He was still smiling good naturedly.

Ivy’s blink was slow, tolerant at another intrusive question. “He isn’t late.”Yet.

“You’ve checked your phone three times now.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s late or I’m checking on him.”

“I see.” His eyes gave her entire frame a penetrating swoop from head to toe as if he did indeedseesomething. “Or are you waiting for the text message announcing he’s going to be late? Would that make it easier to excuse his tardiness?”

Ivy growled.

Drat, she made the throaty sound out loud.He was causing her to deviate.Do not engage Ivy.

He smirked.

“I’m not waiting.” Technically, she was. The curve of his smug lips only spurred her on. “If you must know, I’m checking my list.”

Lick-me-upside-down. Why did she mention that?

“List?”

His eyes widened a fraction and Ivy recognized his interest. She’d seen that look a thousand times when she walked into a board room fully prepared to kick ass. She loved surprising the hell out of skeptical managers with her marketing strategies and proven ROI.

“How can I help you, darlin’?” the young waitress purred the words at swoony man-bun.

The woman leaned a little too close, but maybe that was the distraction he needed to forget their conversation. Ivy hoped he was a breasts man because the waitress had an heir and a spare.

He didn’t look in Ivy’s direction when he responded to the waitress. “We’ll each have a glass of pomegranate La Pinta.”

“Coming right up, darlin’.” The woman practically skipped away to fulfill his order.

Grr. Impossible man. Did ordering for her make him considerate or pushy? She had risked a glance at her phone while he was chatting—the latter wasn’t on her list.

---