Page 5 of More Than Chemical
“True.” He took another sip, wetting his mouth even more than before. “What I meant to say is that I’ve noticed you, and I’d like to learn more about you.”
A lump lodged in my throat. I hadn’t expected him to say…well…something honest.
I’d crossed the room determined to ask him questions, but now those questions were superficial, ridiculous. He’d risen to a level of flirting outside of my abilities. Outside of my comfort zone.
So, without another word and before I could embarrass myself, I turned and walked away.
He grabbed my elbow and pulled me back. “Don’t leave.” His hand slid down my forearm and cupped my fingers. “My name is Dallas. What’s yours?”
His touch was silky smooth and sent a shiver down my spine.
I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to. His eyes held mine.
He rubbed the flesh between my thumb and my index finger. Jesus Holy Mary. The guy didn’t have to talk. His touch alone could hypnotize a girl straight into bed.
“Your name?” he asked again.
When I was a child, there were times I’d been too shy to answer an adult’s question. But right now, right here, it wasn’t shyness that was my problem. I was dumbfounded. I wasn’t sure I had a name.
Then it registered. I didn’t even have to ask him how he did it. All he had to do was ask a girl her name, caress her hand, and,poof, he’d performed his magic. It didn’t hurt if his conquest had a little alcohol in her either.
His brows drew together.
“Dallas isn’t a person’s name.” I’d finally found my voice. “It’s a city.”
He smiled with one corner of his delightful mouth. “Lots of people are named after cities. Boston, Paris?—”
I tried to pull away, but he hooked a finger with one of mine, sending a bolt of energy straight up my arm. What was wrong with me?
“Please, stay,” he said. “Just give me one minute.”
I was no easy target. I had brains, and brains could outsmart a flood of attraction.
Oh no.He’d just satisfied number two on my list. I hated to admit it, but I was attracted to him. Most definitely.
Well, he might have satisfied the first two points. But he’d never meet the others. Never. And number five—savant-like intelligence—impossible.
Was he still holding my hand?
I yanked it out of his grasp and back to my side where it belonged.
He studied me.
“You know,” he said, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all year.”
“What?” I glanced around for the girl he’d been talking to, but she was nowhere to be found.
“To talk to you.”
The music seemed to be getting louder. His mouth kept moving, but I didn’t catch what he said next. “I can’t hear you.”
He leaned in, but still the ringing in my ears blocked out sound. I shook my head.
Enough. I needed to find my friends.
He turned his hat backward and came closer. So close that his breath brushed my earlobe. His chin grazed my cheek. He smelled good. Not like when a guy splashes on the latest Calvin Klein cologne. His scent was of freshly cut cucumbers. So subtle that it was probably from the shaving cream he’d used earlier that day.
“You remember, before winter break, when the fire alarm went off in the middle of the night?” he asked into my ear.
