Page 31 of Smooth Moves
“Miriam”—he paused to wipe his eyes—“wanted me to inspire her class by getting off.”
“Oh my God. No.”
“Oh my God. Yes.” He grinned. “Had I known you’d be going Saturday, I’d have volunteered my services instead of declining.”
“Liar. You used me to get out of saying yes.”
“I did.” He nodded, his green eyes bright. “I thought about it the first time she asked me, but Reid said no. Then I realized that might make things awkward. You know, Miriam sees how hung and amazing I am, and then she’ll be hooked. Her students would be so gaga over me they’d start clogging the hallways.” She rolled her eyes, but that didn’t stop him. “Passing by them all every day while they pined after me would get weird.”
Jordan felt her cheeks heat, remembering his impressive size from Thursday night—a night that refused to leave her thoughts no matter how hard she tried. “I can’t believe she wanted you to…perform…for her class.”
“Oh yeah. We’re not talking standing there looking pretty. She wanted to see some action. Like taking myself in hand and—”
“I get it.” She did, too well. “So that was my Saturday. After tripping over a woman having an orgasm, I dropped the robe and took off. I don’t know how I’m going to go by her store on a daily basis.” She cringed. “And you’re telling me Heidi takes those classes?”
He nodded. “She finished her sessions already, but she said something about taking the next level after she’s done training for her upcoming race.” He pushed aside his empty plate and sipped his coffee. “I wonder if they do other sex stuff, or if it’s some kind of sexual meditation? Do they bring in partners?”
“Please stop talking.”
He shot her a wicked grin. “Can I tell you how happy I am you took that class?”
“Asshole.” She fumed, trying to disguise her amusement with anger. “You’re gonna owe me a bazillion donuts for that.”
“All I can say is it was worth it.”
* * *
An hour later, they stood in his mother’s—in Cash’s—house, eating donuts. Though Cash had bought them for her, he’d already eaten three of them. The man had an appetite, but it sure didn’t hurt his physique any.
He looked like a Greek god come to life in worn jeans and a faded blue T-shirt. Make that a sad god. His expression as he stared around him seemed lost, and Jordan empathized. How terrible to have to pack up his dead mother’s belongings.
She swallowed a bite of Boston Cream donut and sighed with pleasure, hoping to perk him up a little. “God, I love sweets.”
“There’s a joke in there somewhere, but damned if I can find it,” he said around a mouthful of sugared dough. After he’d finished and dusted his hands, he waved around him. “Well, this is the place. Most of the shit is my mother’s, but there are a few things of Reid’s still around.”
“Not yours or your dad’s?”
“She must have taken care of the old man’s stuff a while ago because I haven’t seen anything of his except for some tools in the garage.” He grimaced. “Me? I might as well not exist. I’m still not sure why I inherited the house.”
“Just you?” She’d heard one of the guys at work mentioning something to that effect, but she hadn’t realized Reid had been cut out of the will.
“Yep, just me. Quick background—my family sucked. My father was an asshole who hated me, and my mother barely knew I existed. Which is to say I was kicked out of the house when I was sixteen and never came back. Not until now.”
“Wow. That’s terrible.”
“Yep.” He gave her a pathetic look. “Does that make you want to cuddle me? Offer comfort? Maybe hug me tight, to make me feel better?” His sly grin made her belly do somersaults.
Thisman she could handle. “I would, but I have a firm policy against not hugging dickbags.”
“Lets me off then.” He grinned, comfortable with her razzing.
She wondered if her ability to withstand his buried charm and amazing looks made her more of a challenge. The guy had women looking at him all the time. She saw it whenever they went out. Case in point, that woman who’d had the nerve to wink at him while Jordan had sat right there, across the table from him. At least he’d ignored her.
But Cash was like that. A weird combination of obnoxious blowhard and gentleman. At work, he kept things professional with clients, ignoring any come-ons from interested parties. Sure, he’d talk a good game behind their backs, but he never followed through on it—that she’d seen. And it wasn’t every time. He wasn’t a sex magnet per se. Yet it happened often enough that Funny Rob had started calling him Gunny Gigolo behind his back, which was kind of funny except she had a feeling it would bother him to know.
Not that she could blame any of them. Cash’s big mouth rarely made him less attractive to his many admirers.
Not Jordan though. She worked with herfriend.That kiss they’d shared had meant nothing. Had to get it out of the way so they could focus on…focus on… His lips kept moving, but she didn’t hear him.
