“Why? Because you feel sorry for me?”
Kennedy flinched as the thinly veiled accusation hit her ears. She studied Nate closely—brown eyes lit with fire, hidden behind those ridiculous glasses. A mustard stain prominently displayed on his lapel. The pocket protector with two perfectly sharpened pencils, a tiny notepad, and calculator wedged inside, screaming The Big Bang Theory meets Revenge of the Nerds. He sat in complete stillness and waited for her response.
A strange surge of emotions roared up from her gut. How odd. The way he looked at her, his gaze probing, urged her to tell the truth. She could pull a lot of stock answers from her arsenal and never let him get closer. But something had changed, and with his question demanded honesty. She struggled and tried to keep it light. “No, of course not.”
“Bullshit.” He leaned in, a touch of masculine temper giving him an edge she hadn’t glimpsed before. “Am I just your little pet project to keep you from getting bored, Kennedy? A beauty-and-the-beast makeover special? Should I be grateful you picked me, shut my mouth, and just go with the program?”
“No!” Her blood heated at the attack, and she barely managed to stay in her chair. “I can’t believe you would think so little of this whole process.”
“I’m not a process.”
“I know!”
“Stop giving me your standardized answers and tell me the truth. Why me?”
“Because I needed someone to believe in!”
His mouth opened and his eyes flared, and suddenly she felt smothered, as if he had wrapped his energy around her and squeezed. She tried to look away and break the intensity, but he didn’t allow her, just slid his hand across the table and interweaved his fingers with hers.
“Thank you for telling me.”
His thumb pressed into her palm. Her pulse picked up, yet her body felt sluggish. She shook her head and tried to figure out her reaction, but the waitress glided by, placed the check on the table, and mercifully, he released her hand.
“I gotta go,” she said.
“Yeah, me, too. I’ll walk you out.” He put cash on the table and cut off her protest before she even opened her mouth. She allowed him to pay again, and they stepped out the side door near the parking lot.
Torrents of rain whipped in a fury, and the dark sky lit up with jagged streaks of lightning. She looked down at her high heels and held back a groan. Great. Good-bye, designer shoes. They’d be a muddy mess by the time she got to her car.
He stood with her on the edge of the sidewalk covered by the awning. “Better wait it out a bit,” he shouted over the roar of the storm. “You’ll get drenched, and we don’t have an umbrella.”
A pool of water dripped from the gutter and sprayed her in the face. She jumped back and yelped, but Nate had already pulled her closer to the door and blocked the brunt of the storm with his body. Her back pressed against the brick wall. The rain pounded the awning and she shivered from the damp. He quickly shrugged off his lab coat and tucked it around her, grabbing the sleeves in the front and dragging her close to his chest. The deliciousness of his body warmth enveloped her, and she softened against him.
“Better?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“I can’t see a damn thing. Stupid glasses.” He slid them off and stuck them in the pocket protector. “I’m sure it’ll ease off in a minute. It’s never this strong for too long.”
“Probably.”
He didn’t smell of pine or ocean today. Instead, his natural male scent rose to her nostrils and swarmed her senses. Clean soap, rain, and a hint of some spice. Cloves? She tipped her chin up to compliment him on getting rid of the cologne, then froze.
His eyes weren’t brown, as she had originally thought, but a deep moss green, with flecks of gold. With his hair pulled back, she noted the strong lines of his face, placed together in an almost beautiful symmetry she’d overlooked before. His lips were perfectly formed, the top a bit thinner and defined, the lower one generous and lush. His mouth looked soft. She wondered what his lips would feel like over hers.
“Ken?”
Her name ripped from those lips in a husky growl. She blinked and tried to find her footing, startled by his referring to her so intimately, but not entirely sure she minded. “Yeah?”
“What about us?”
Brain alert. She tried to break the weird spell, but he slid his hands up to cup her cheeks and thunder shook the ground, and somehow his body was pressed tight against hers. He engulfed her with a quiet, intense presence that demanded her response. As though on cue, her body lit up and begged for more. She grew damp between her thighs, and her nipples hardened to tight little points, and within those few seconds, she was completely turned on by her geek rocket scientist.
“There is no us. I’m your matchmaker.”
Her victory of sane speech was short-lived. Those thumbs stroked under her jaw and began to trace the lines of her mouth. The fascinated, intense look on his face thrilled her. Had a man ever looked at her so . . . hungrily? As if he craved to feast on her for hours without end? A shiver bumped through her.
“Eliza and Professor Higgins hooked up at the end of the movie.”
What was he talking about? Her heart beat so loudly she heard it over the raging storm. Oh, My Fair Lady. “You saw that movie?”
His mouth quirked. “Of course. I watched a bunch of so-called chick flicks and classic musicals to study the female mind and what she may find romantic.”
Holy crap, she couldn’t make him up if she tried. She dragged her tongue across her dry lips and watched his eyes light up with intent. Uh-oh. “They were terrible for each other. He didn’t respect her enough.”
“Yes, he did. Once she woke him up to the possibility of a match, he was done. He loved her from the first. He just didn’t know it yet.”
Oh, she was in trouble. She clawed for sanity, but his thumb pressed against her now damp lips and slipped inside just an inch to touch the tip of her tongue. The move was so damn sexy she forgot her clever response to his statement. She was an accomplished flirt, dated a wide variety of men, and knew every maneuver to block an unwanted kiss or touch like a black belt. Yet, here she stood outside of Mugs like a helpless virgin, waiting for him to do something she didn’t want.
“Ken?”
“Huh?”
“I want to kiss you.”
“Don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Agreed.” He lowered his head so his breath struck her mouth. “Don’t care.”