Page 9 of Bewitching the Dragon
Oh God, she was in her pajamas. No makeup. Hair pulled back into a ponytail. Hadn’t showered yet. She could only imagine what she looked like through his eyes at the moment.
“Um, hi. Good morning. I, er…” She tilted her head and studied his face. He had a cut, swollen lip and a black eye that was turning several shades of green and yellow, like it was days or a week old, rather than, what? Twelve hours?
“Wow, you heal fast.”
He touched the eye and winced. “Yeah. Lucky, I guess. How are you feeling this morning?”
She shrugged and stared into her mug. “Better than you, obviously.” And then she glanced up sharply. “Er, how did you know where I live?”
He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his navy cargo shorts. The action pulled them down far enough on his hips that she was presented with a view of muscular, tanned skin between the hem of his T-shirt and the waistband of his shorts. Oh man, did he seriously have those V-shaped muscles that were so beautiful and so rare, at least on the few guys she’d had up close and personal experience with?
“It turns out we have a mutual friend,” he said.
She dragged her gaze back up to his face. “We do? Who?”
“Petra Sharmell.”
“Seriously? How do you know Petra?”
He shrugged. “We’re from the same colony.”
“Colony?”
He shook his head. “City. Town. Detroit. We’re both from Detroit.”
Becca chuckled. “Detroit’s a big town, but I know what you mean.”
“You do?”
“Are you from Detroit, as in just visiting New Orleans, or are you a transplant?”
“Just visiting.”
She frowned. “So you came over this morning to let me know we have a connection?”
He arched his brows, and she cleared her throat. “Um, anyway, what are you doing here?”
He pulled his right hand out of his pocket, showing her the small piece of plastic he held with his forefinger and thumb. “You left this at the bar last night.”
“Oh! My debit card. I totally forgot I opened a tab.” Not surprising given the fight that broke out. The fight Rahu had been involved in. And had apparently won. Four on one and he’d won.
Whatever that tingling had been, it most definitely hadnotbeen attraction.
She cleared her throat and stood, planning to reach for the card. The action caused her wet shorts to glue to her leg, because, of course, she had doused herself in coffee.
She pointed at her empty cup. “I need a refill since I’m now wearing it. And I need to change clothes. Coffee, as it turns out, is a really uncomfortable accessory. Um, do you want to come inside?”
He chuckled and gestured for her to walk ahead of him and followed her into the guesthouse.
She led him into the kitchen, where she started a fresh pot. When she turned around, he was standing across the room in the arched doorway, and how weird was it that she wanted him to be closer? Like, it was a physical…urge.
She touched the curls springing free of her ponytail and pointed at the hallway leading to her bedroom. “I’m, ah, going to go change clothes. I’ll be right back.” And then she scurried away like she was afraid she might…what? Touch him again?
Or more?
Ugh. She needed to stop thinking like that. The guy had acted jealous when they’d only known each other for a few minutes. And then he’d gotten into a bar fight. And now she found out he was from Detroit.
Sure, there was some serious physical attraction between them, and he’d returned her credit card, and she could certainly call Petra to get the 411 on whether he was a decent guy, but honestly, what did it matter?
