Whoa. She had to put a stop to this.
She’d made a promise to herself. She’d listed her goals when Amanda and her parents had been here hours ago. They had to do with pride and determination and succeeding and nothing to do with the way the air heated and her senses heightened every time she came within ten feet of Reed Sullivan.
She gave herself a firm mental shake and reminded herself that she really needed to focus. “Here’s the thing,” she said sternly.
There was a slight narrowing of his eyes, but he remained near the door, watching her, waiting for her to continue. His brows were straight and slightly darker than his hair, his face all angles and planes, his lips parted just enough to reveal the even edges of his teeth. She wondered what his mouth would feel like against her lips, her throat, her—
Grinding her molars together, she straightened her spine. She supposed she couldn’t legitimately fault him for the color of his eyes or the way his pants rode low at his waist.
She blinked and refocused.
While the fan whirred behind her, she said, “I’ve been known to make bad choices, but I’ve never gotten thoroughly lost and I’m not about to start now. Do you understand?”
“This has something to do with getting lost?” he asked.
“I went the wrong way today, but I was not lost.”
“I see.”
He was being polite again, and patient, which only increased her frustration. Holding out her hand in a halting gesture, she said, “Yes, you’re tall, with a capital T. And you have a slightly sinful smile you don’t overuse. All that aside, you’re just another good-looking guy in a fine broadcloth shirt. No offense.”
“None taken.” There went that sinful smile he didn’t overuse. And there went the feeling in her toes.
She sighed. “It’s true that I have fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants tendencies. My father expects my new business venture to fail, and my cheating ex-boyfriend believes I’ll come crawling back, and maybe I have made rash decisions in the past, but I never get lost. It has to do with my photographic memory. Technically it’s called eidetic imagery.”
He assumed a thoughtful pose, his left arm folded across his ribs, his chin resting on his fist.
Ruby’s clothes were beginning to feel constricting, her bottom lip the slightest bit pouty and her pulse fluttery. And her toes, well, blast her toes.
While twenty-year-old heavy-metal music played in the background far more softly than Aerosmith ever intended, Reed rested his hands confidently on his hips and said, “In essence, you’re saying you got lost today and it had something to do with me.”
“Not lost,” she countered. “Slightly turned around. I don’t want— I just don’t think— I shouldn’t.” She shook her head, straightened her spine. “I won’t.”
The old stereo shut off. Without music, the whir of the fan was a lonesome hum in the too-warm room.
“I’m spontaneous,” she said, trying to explain. “Unfortunately, I bore easily. Believe me, it’s a curse. I had a dream job in L.A. that I hated, and now I’m here, and I don’t want to go back to my dad’s towing service. I bought this tavern and I need to focus on getting it open and running and keeping it that way, not on some guy who, it turns out, is tall.”
“With a capital T.” He met her steadfast gaze. “Isn’t that how you put it?”
The air heated and her thoughts slowed. It was all she could do not to smile.
Time passed slowly. Or perhaps it stopped altogether. She found herself staring into his blue-gray eyes, and doing so changed everything, until there was only this moment in time.
She swallowed. Breathed.
Yes, he was tall, she thought, and he didn’t scream expletives after he’d been run off the road, and the color of his eyes was as dense and changeable as storm clouds. It was unfortunate that staring into them had wiped out the feeling in her toes, but it wasn’t his fault.
“Ruby?” Reed said.
“Yes?”
“I stopped by to pick up Lacey’s cameras.”
She blinked. For a second there she thought he said he’d stopped by to pick up Lacey’s cameras.
Ohmygod. That’s what he said.
She hadn’t blushed since she was thirteen years old and she really hoped she didn’t start again now. Since the floor failed to open up and swallow her whole, she whirled around, stuck her stupid tingly toes into the nearest pair of flip-flops, grabbed the key ring off the peg in the kitchen and started for the door.
She darted past him, down the stairs and around the barrel of purple-and-yellow petunias blooming at the bottom. Every concise little thud the heels of his Italian loafers made on the stairs let her know he was following her.
She unlocked the tavern’s back door, and as the heavy steel monstrosity swung in on creaking hinges, she said, “You could have stopped me.”
Surprisingly, his voice came from little more than two feet behind her. “Only a fool would stop a beautiful woman when she’s insinuating she’s profoundly attracted to him, too.”
Ruby must have turned around, because she and Reed stood face-to-face, nearly toe to toe, his head tilted down slightly, hers tilted up. Holding her breath, she found herself wondering why it seemed that the smallest words in the English language were always the most poignant and powerful.
Too, Reed had said.
She was profoundly attracted to him, too.
That meant he was profoundly attracted to her, also.
They were profoundly attracted to each other.
Lord help her, she was reacting to this profound attraction again, to his nearness and the implications and nearly every wild and wonderful possibility that came with it. His gaze roamed over her entire face as if he liked what he saw. As the clock on the courthouse chimed the quarter hour and a horn honked in the distance, Ruby’s heart fluttered into her throat, her toes tingling crazily and her thoughts spinning like moons around a newly discovered planet.
She and Reed seemed to realize in unison how close they were and how easy it would be to lean in those last few inches until their lips touched. If that happened, it would undoubtedly be incredible and there was no telling where it would lead. Fine. There was a very good chance it would lead to sex, wild, fast, ready, middle-of-the-day sex that spiraled into a crescendo of adrenaline and exploding electricity not unlike the music she’d been listening to before she was so rudely—okay, not that rudely—interrupted.
They stilled. Taking a shaky breath, she drew back, and so did he, one centimeter at a time.
He was the first to find his voice. “As tempting as it is to take a little detour here, I’m not going to.”
“You’re not?”
He shook his head. “You have my word.”
“Oh. Um. Good.” Since his word was something she doubted he gave lightly, she led the way through a narrow hallway, past the storage room and restrooms, and into the cavernous tavern in need of paint and a good scrubbing and a brand-new image. Flipping on light switches as she went, she continued until she reached the ornately carved bar where she’d left the box she’d started filling with Lacey’s cameras.
“Here’s the thing,” Reed declared, using her exact terminology.
It