Page 123 of Boyfriend of the Hour
It also turned me on. A lot.
“You don’t ever have to apologize for teaching me things,” I told him. “I like it. Although I’m not sure what cell memories have to do with Billy Joel and my dad.”
Again, that crooked smile made an appearance—the one that revealed the dimple in his left cheek.
God, he was gorgeous. So,sogorgeous. And he really had no idea.
“I—well—um—” For once, he didn’t seem to know what to say. Then he pushed his glasses up his nose and tugged at the backward brim of his cap. “Science hasn’t really pointed to it one way or another, and I’m not saying it’s supported by any legitimate research at this point—” He cut himself off again as if he realized he was starting to go on another tangent. He took a deep breath, then continued. “I just mean to say, maybe some parts of you do remember your dad. Even if it’s just in your skin. Or your cells. So it’s not ridiculous that you miss him. Not at all.”
When our eyes met again, this time, I was the one to look away first. His eyes were just so brown. And with this lovely music and the idea that maybe my fantasies weren’t just fantasies after all…
How could this person who barely knew me manage to tell me exactly what I needed to hear?
“Did I upset you?”
I looked back, this time with my vision clouded a bit by more tears. I laughed and wiped them away. “No, no. These are happy tears.”
Again, Nathan’s head cocked. Again, he was just so freaking cute. “Ah. Happy tears.”
I nodded. “Happy tears,” I confirmed. “Cell memory. I like it. Thank you for telling me about it.”
Again, that shy smile made an appearance. “You’re welcome.”
“So, what about me?” I pressed, suddenly eager to change the subject. “Do I get a fashion show too?”
He shook his head as he rested an arm behind me on the couch. I leaned back against it, and once again, he didn’t move it away.
“I own a tuxedo that’s adequate,” Nathan was saying as his fingers brushed my shoulder.
I nodded. “I bet renting would be tough. Big arms and all.” I gave his biceps a squeeze for good measure. It didn’t even squish a little. “Whydoyou look like this? You don’t see a lot of doctors that could play for the NFL.”
Nathan adorably peered down each of his arms as if they had only just grown from his body. “I played baseball, not football.”
I gawped. “You did?” That explained the hat.
He tugged on the brim. “In college, not professionally. Although my coach wanted me to go to the Combine instead of medical school.”
Despite his size, the idea seemed absurd. Nathan was the opposite of what I imagined a typical jock to be. He was generally quiet, shy, and a total brain—not like the loud, shouty meatheads that traipsed the halls of Belmont Prep. Granted, our school wasn’t exactly known for producing baseball players, but there was always that contingent.
He shrugged. “I played for Duke. It was a good way to get out of Virginia.” His mouth tugged into an impish half-smile. “My father attended Georgetown, and we were all expected to go too—he wouldn’t pay for anywhere else. Spencer and Carrick went, but I…did not.”
I grinned. “I never knew you were such a rebel.”
“Never on purpose,” came his wry mutter.
We watched each other a moment more: the closeted rebel and the consummate flirt. Nathan’s eyes dropped to my lips, and I found myself leaning in. Maybe we could share a kiss that was just for us. Maybe it didn’t have to be all for show.
His lips were maybe an inch from mine when we were interrupted by a loud knock at the door.
Both of us flew to opposite sides of the couch.
“Expecting company?” I wondered.
Nathan frowned as we both stood. “No.”
“Nate!” Several more loud knocks shook the door. “Nate, you little shit. I know you’re home. Open the damn door before I make a scene for the neighbors.”
“Fuck,” Nathan muttered as he checked his phone, which had several messages left unanswered. He’d had the ringer turned off. Apparently, he’d been more absorbed with his work than he’d realized.
