But he didn’t take his success for granted. After destroying his baseball career thanks to one night of reckless stupidity, he’d learned to work hard for what he wanted. He should be working now. Or checking in with Jenna, who was spending the night with Rhett in his loft before they drove to Denver tomorrow to put her on the plane headed for the rehab center in Arizona.
He should be a dozen places that didn’t involve standing in the shadows waiting for Erin. David was long past the days of making stupid choices when it came to women, and he’d never had any interest in the type who looked as wholesome as a tall glass of milk.
The door opened and Erin walked out, and all the reasons David shouldn’t be waiting for her disappeared under the relentless drumming of need pulsing through his body. He might not understand his reaction to the beautiful schoolteacher, but neither could he ignore it.
“Tell me about the boyfriend,” he said, stepping out to block her path.
She stumbled back a step, pressing her hand to her cheek. “Holy cow! You scared the pants off me.”
David felt his mouth curve at that. If only.
“No one says holy cow in real life,” he muttered, reaching out a hand to steady her.
She shrugged off his touch. “Clearly people do say holy cow,” she countered. “Because I just did.” She crossed her arms over a chest that could benefit from a low-cut blouse. Oh, yes. David would definitely like to see this woman in something far more revealing than the conservative pastel-colored shirts she seemed to favor.
The thought of undoing a few of her buttons made his blood run alarmingly hot.
“Why are you skulking around out here?”
“I’m not skulking,” he told her. “I’m waiting for you. You were just about to explain why you asked me for sex when you have a boyfriend.”
Her delicate brows winged up. “No, I wasn’t.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Keep your voice down. I don’t want anyone to hear...” Even in the waning light he could see color flood her cheeks. When was the last time he’d been around a woman who actually blushed?
“That you propositioned me?” he supplied.
“Stop,” she said on a hiss of breath. “It wasn’t like that.”
“It sure sounded like that to me. But I guess you need to keep me your dirty little secret since there’s a boyfriend in the picture.” He tapped a finger on his chin, as if pondering the concept. “I’ve never been a kept man before. I’ll admit it has a certain appeal.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re teasing me.”
He didn’t bother to hide his grin. “You seem unfamiliar with the concept.”
She stared at him a moment longer, then gave a small sigh. He could almost feel on his skin the puff of breath that left her lips. Damn, but he wanted to feel it. He wanted to taste her to gauge for himself whether she was as sweet as she looked. He eased closer to her, slowly, as if she might spook if he moved too fast.
He’d meant to confront her, demand what the hell she’d been thinking when she’d made that shocking request. But he liked the easy banter they fell into far too much. His life had never been easy, and a bit of innocent flirting with Erin gave him a few minutes’ reprieve from all the things he couldn’t control.
She bit down on her lip but didn’t shy away. He liked that, too. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she mumbled.
“Really?” he asked, even though he’d guessed as much.
“Olivia was intent on playing matchmaker, and I didn’t want you to be forced into asking me out or anything. That’s a horrible feeling and I’m not...”
“Interested?” He chuckled. “We both know that’s not true.”
A shadow clouded her gaze, and he wasn’t sure what he’d said wrong, but he wanted to kick himself for it.
“I’m not your type,” she said through clenched teeth, coming up on her toes and tipping back her head so that he got his wish and felt her breath tickle his chin. Her scent was a mix of cinnamon and sugar, like he imagined a kitchen might smell with a batch of cookies baking in the oven. Warm, inviting and the exact opposite of the cramped galley kitchen in the apartment where he’d grown up.
He was so caught up in his reaction that he almost missed the words she spoke. As it was, by the time he opened his mouth to correct her, she’d brushed past him and was around the corner of the building.
“Erin, wait,” he called, but instead of slowing she moved faster. It only took a few strides to catch up to her.
“I need to go,” she said, keeping her gaze on the ground in front of her when he blocked her path.
“Why do you think you’re not my type?” He was curious to know whether her reasons matched his.
She gave a little shake of her head.
“Erin.”
“Am I your type?” she asked suddenly, her honey-colored gaze slamming into his.
He opened his mouth, shut it again. How was he supposed to answer that? When she made to move around him again, he settled for the truth.
“You’re way too good for me.”
The comment earned him an eye roll. “If you say the words it’s me, not you, I’m going to punch you.”
“I’m guessing you don’t go around punching people.”
“You make me want to start.”
He laughed again. “How is it that I’m the bad guy right now?”
“You’re not,” she whispered. “I should never have made the request. I was tired, and it was stupid and embarrassing. Can we just forget about it?”
He wished he could. Getting involved with this woman—in any capacity other than as his nephew’s teacher—was sure to be trouble for both of them. Why couldn’t he make himself walk away?
“No one,” he said softly, unable to resist stepping into her space again, “would have to force a man to ask you out.”
It was her turn to laugh, but there was no humor in it. All the light was gone from her golden eyes, and he wanted nothing more in life at that moment than to reignite it. “I know who I am, David.”
He lifted his hands to cup her cheeks and felt a slight shiver pass through her. It drove him crazy with need. “Take another look,” he said, and touched his lips to hers.
* * *
Erin’s eyes drifted closed even as her body opened like the petals of a flower unfurling in the warm sunshine. Take another look? She’d planned to hold on to this moment like a priceless piece of art. If she could she’d frame it and hang it on her wall so she could always remember.
David McCay was kissing her, and quite thoroughly at that. His lips were soft but firm as they glided over hers and she couldn’t resist darting her tongue into his mouth. He rewarded that bit of bravery with a small groan, which made sparks dance across her skin. She leaned into him, her breath hitching when his fingers laced through her hair and tugged gently.
A whistle from a passing car made her wrest away from his embrace. She squeezed her hands into fists and pressed them to her sides when all she wanted was to wrap herself around him and hang on for dear life.
“Women like you don’t do PDAs on the sidewalk,” he said, his voice rougher than normal.
She bit down on the inside of her cheek and looked up at him through her lashes. “I don’t make it a habit,” she admitted.