Page 73 of Match Me If You Can (Chicago Stars 6)

She couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth. It brought to mind all the mouths she’d seen on that small television screen so recently and exactly what they’d been doing. Damn Krystal and her movie. “I’m just tired,” she managed.

“You don’t look tired. Your lips are sort of puffy, like you’ve been chewing on them, and you’re breathing hard. Frankly, you look turned on. Or is that my one-track mind taking over again?”

“Let it go, okay?” He had a small scar on one rib, probably a knife wound from a spurned girlfriend.

“What the hell did you women do tonight?”

“It wasn’t my idea!” She sounded guilty, and her flush deepened.

“I’ll find out. One of the guys will tell me, so you might as well fill me in now.”

“I don’t think the men will be talking about this. Or maybe they will. I don’t know. I have no idea how much you men talk.”

“Not as much as you women do, that’s for damn sure.” He inclined his head toward the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink? There’s a bottle of wine in the refrigerator.”

“Oh, yeah …Wine’s exactly what I don’t need right now.”

“A mystery just waiting to be solved…” He’d clearly begun to enjoy himself.

“Leave it alone, will you?”

“Exactly what a nice guy would do.” He leaned down and picked up his cell. “Janine’ll tell me what happened. She seems like an up-front lady.”

“She’s at the B&B. She doesn’t have a phone in her room.”

“Right. I’ll ask Krystal. I talked to Webster not half an hour ago.”

Annabelle had a pretty good idea what Krystal and Webster were doing about now, and they wouldn’t appreciate being interrupted. “It’s midnight.”

“Your powwow just broke up. She won’t have gone to bed yet.”

Don’t bet on it.

He rubbed his thumb over the number pad. “I’ve always liked Krystal. She’s straightforward.” He pressed the first button.

Annabelle sucked in air. “We watched porn, okay?”

He grinned and tossed the phone down. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Believe me, it wasn’t my idea. And it’s not funny. Besides, it wasn’t really porn. It was erotica. For women.”

“There’s a difference?”

“That’s exactly the kind of thing I’d expect a man to say. Do you think most of us get off watching a bunch of women with collagen lips and soccer-ball implants go at each other?”

“From your expression, I’m guessing not.”

She needed something cold to drink, and she headed for the kitchen, still talking because she had a point to make. “Like seduction. Does your average porn film even think about showing a little seduction?”

He followed her. “To be fair, there’s not usually much need. The women are pretty aggressive.”

“Exactly. Well, I’m not.” As soon as the words were out, she could have kicked herself. The last thing she’d wanted to do was bring the subject back to the personal.

He didn’t pounce on her misstep, not the wily Python. He liked to play with his prey before he struck. “So did the film have a plot?”

“Rural New England, virginal artist, studly stranger, ’nuff said.” She pulled open the refrigerator door and stared inside without seeing a thing.

“Only two people. That’s disappointing.”

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