Page 61 of Token

She blinked rapidly, his voice penetrating the momentary short-circuiting of her brain. “I’m sorry—what?” she asked, dragging her gaze up from his tanned forearms.

Nate chuckled softly as if aware she’d been ogling him. “I asked if you’d like a slice of carrot cake or ice cream for dessert. I noticed you didn’t touch yours at dinner.”

“That’s because I was saving those delicious empty calories for this.”

Pull yourself together,she sternly admonished herself.You will not let this turn into a booty call.

But the devil on her other shoulder demanded to have a say.Oh, who the hell do you think you’re fooling? You’re at his apartment, aren’t you? If you thought all you were going to do was talk, I have a bridge in Brooklyn in sore need of repair to sell you. C’mon, now. Be the twenty-first-century woman that you are and own your sex drive. You have physical needs like everybody else, and Nate is sending out signals brighter than the one Gotham City uses whenever there’s a misbehaving penguin on the loose.

Tearing her gaze from him completely,Kennedy shushed both voices in her head. There would be no sex tonight. They’d do what they came to do, and then she’d go home to her own bed.

Her big, lonely bed.

“Okay, let’s have that talk now.” It was best she initiated and steered the conversation. “First off, we’ve only run into one of my ex-boyfriends. Sam was a blind date.”

Nate shot a look at her over his shoulder. “You in a rush? Do you have somewhere else to be tonight?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

“I figured a man of your vast accomplishments would be able to multitask,” she replied smartly, twisting around to place her feet on the couch and reclining against one of the overstuffed cushions.Much better.

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you have somewhere else to be tonight?” he reiterated, making clear he was going to be a dog with a bone about it.

Kennedy snorted softly. “Where would I go at eleven-thirty at night dressed like this?”

Nate stood with his back to her. There was a momentary pause to whatever he was doing, and then all she heard was the clink of a utensil against ceramic. Seconds later, he was striding toward her carrying a saucer and a white ceramic mug.

“I’m sure there are lots of places where you’d be welcomed dressed like that.” His voice was low and suggestive.

Kennedy felt the heat of his gaze as it made a thorough tour of her body, from the tips of her pink-painted toes to her blazing-hot face. Clasping the handle of the cup tightly in her hand, she took a tentative sip. The drink was hot and so was she. It didn’t make for a comfortable combination. And of course, Nate was a whole different kind of hot.

He remained there, at the couch, standing over her, watching her, his eyes giving off a heat of their own. She’d seen that look before. He’d been getting ready to peel her out of her clothes.

Kennedy took another sip, her gaze meeting his in question.Would you please sit down already?

“I’ll take your cup when you’re ready. So you won’t have to move,” he added, his gaze drifting over her bare legs stretched out on the couch.

“Oh. Okay. Thank you,” she said once she realized she’d have to get up if she wanted to place her mug and saucer on the coffee table, which was several feet away. She took one more drink before readily surrendering both to him and watched him set them down.

Stretched out as she was, Kennedy thought Nate would take a seat on the adjacent couch. She was wrong. She’d swear he owned the place—and her—the way he casually lifted her legs, sat down, and then placed them on his lap.

Kennedy could only stare at him, surprised and hopelessly turned on at the same time. She immediately attempted to place her feet on the floor, but Nate gently grasped her legs. “It’s okay. I don’t mind,” he murmured as his thumb began making sensuous forays of her ankle.

Heat bloomed at every point of contact and beyond. She stared at him, literally holding her breath because, at this point, breathing was impossible.

“What are you doing?” she practically squeaked.

“I’m making myself comfortable without disturbing you.”

Without disturbing her? It was as if the man shoveled shit for a living, he was so adept at it.

“Well, you may be comfortable, but I’m not.” She was hot, and other formerly dry parts of her were not anymore.

Okay, now say it like you mean it. Yourlady doth protest too muchact won’t hold sway with this audience.

“Relax.” If he intended to come across as calming or soothing, he missed it by a long shot but hit smoldering right on the mark. “We’re not going to do anything you don’t want. We’re just here to talk.”

Not going to do anything you don’t want?

Good lord, was that supposed to make her feel better when her panties were about to combust into a raging inferno?

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