Page 20 of We Were Something
“I appreciate it, Paige. Really,” I tell her, noticing how her smile brightens just a fraction more at my praise. “I’m impressed you were able to match the size, too.”
One of her eyebrows rises and she gives me this…look. A somewhat devious expression that lets me know whatever comes out of her mouth next is going to be…trouble.
“Well, tall men have big feet,” she says, her tiny tongue sneaking out to swipe at the corner of her bottom lip, her brief moment of discomfiture evaporating. Then she puts both of her hands on the chair in front of her and leans in closer, her voice lowering. “I like to guess the shoe size and then compare it later.”
It takes me a split second for my mind to understand…
And when I do, I clear my throat at her unabashedly brazen innuendo, working hard to keep the corners of my mouth from rising.
Keeping her voice low, she asks, “You find me funny,Dr. Becker?”
I make the mistake of allowing my eyes to dip to her mouth when she says it like that.
Dr. Becker.
Shit, I haven’t heard my name sound that sexy out of anyone’s mouth since the day I graduated from medical school, and back then, it was simply the title that made the words sound so good.
This time, it’s the mouth the words are coming out of. Perfectly proportioned lips and straight white teeth, that little tongue sneaking out again to briefly lick her lip.
“Notfunny,” I finally respond, dragging my eyes away from her face and refocusing on the bag in front of me.Shifting it to the side, I adjust it slightly so the corners align with the edge of the table.“But the things you say are…” I trail off, struggling to find the right word.
Sexy as hellcomes to mind.
Suggestive in the best wayfollows close behind.
Temptingjumps in there as well.
But it’s the final word I settle on that reminds me why I didn’t track Paige down after she walked away from me at the gala. Why I fought against my desire to kiss her against the lockers and drag her home with me.
Beforeshe threw up on my shoes, of course.
“Hot?” she says, inserting her own interpretation into the mix.
I give her a soft smile.
“Bewildering,” I finally say, surely removing any interest she has in me with the revelation.
Because it’s true.
From the moment I officially met Paige on Saturday night, I’ve felt a bit out of my depth with the kind of confidence and flirtatiousness that seem to ooze from her every pore.
So, yes, itishot listening to the unique ways she manages to turn our topic of conversation—no matter how mundane—into something just on the edge of arousing. But it’s also unexpected, and the married man I used to be doesn’t exactly know how to handle it.
Paige’s flirty smile dims a bit, unsurprisingly, and I watch as she pulls back from the somewhat aggressive pose she was in before, standing back up to her full height.
I clear my throat again, suddenly desperate to find the right words to say to bring that smile back to her face—any kind of smile. Because this look of unease that has cast her in shadows is definitely not the type of expression I want to be responsible for eliciting from her.
But just as quickly as her smile falls away, it reappears, almost like the previous moment was an illusion or hallucination.
“You know, most of the guys I flirt withlikemy attention, but if I’m reading you correctly, I make you a bit uncomfortable. Is that accurate, Dr. Becker?”
I let out another small laugh, palming the back of my neck and looking off toward the hospital parking lot in the distance as I try to decide what to say to that.
“Not…uncomfortable,” I reply, my mind again scrambling to find the right thing to say.
“But definitely ruffled,” she says.
I watch her for a long moment before finally nodding my head. “Ruffled is a good word,” I tell her before another somewhat awkward chuckle falls from my lips. “As unattractive as that might sound.”
