Still So Hot!. Serena Bell

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СКАЧАТЬ And that hand on her arm was like iron, a display of male strength on a scale she hadn’t experienced in way too long. He was near enough that she could feel his heat, and longing slipped through her defenses and washed over her in a rush of sensation. She only prayed he couldn’t see it on her face.

      This was an act, she reminded herself—those pale green eyes so intent on her, the inviting grin, the banter—it was just habit, the way he was with women.

      “There are no guarantees in life,” she said. Miraculously her words came out cool and light.

      He grinned at her. “See, I always liked that stuff you used to say. ‘He who laughs last, thinks slowest.’ And ‘Where there’s a will, I want to be in it.’”

      He’d had that one crooked tooth on the bottom straightened since she’d seen him last. She missed the quirk of it. No, she didn’t. She didn’t miss a thing about him or their friendship.

      The plane lurched slightly, and she grabbed on to a headrest. She was rewarded with raised eyebrows and a glare from the seat’s occupant.

      She tried to broadcast an apology, but the aggrieved passenger just turned away.

      “We should get out of the aisle,” she said. “I have to get to first class.”

      “You said your client’s up there. What kind of client? Are you still working for that matchmaking company?”

      “I have my own business now. I’m a dating coach. This is a one-on-one weekend dating boot camp. I watch her in action, give advice and basically play wingman—wingwoman—to her.”

      “So you’re still doing it, huh? Making a career out of teaching women not to date me.”

      That ego! Unreal. Sure she’d harassed him about his wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am version of romance, threatening to tell the women of Carville College, and later the island of Manhattan, that Brett Jordan was not in their best interest. But that didn’t mean he’d influenced her job choices

      “I’m making a career out of teaching women not to date jerks,” she corrected.

      “Did you just call me a jerk?” He grinned.

      Despite herself, she had to hide a smile. “You hear what you need to hear.”

      There was a brutal edge to the banter, and yet it felt familiar, very close to the old flirtation. She could miss that, too, if she weren’t careful. This was exactly why she’d avoided all contact with him.

      She shook her head. “Let’s not do this.”

      “Do what?”

      “Small talk, catch up—the whole friends thing. It’s not a good idea.”

      The last trace of smile vanished. “I don’t understand.”

      “I know you don’t.”

      Behind Brett, the curtain veiling first class shifted and a vision of adorableness stepped around it, with shiny blond hair, big blue eyes, dimpled cheeks and a clingy purple dress totally unsuitable for plane travel. Celine.

      Instantly Elisa felt better. Screw Brett Jordan and his burning gaze. That was then. Celine and Rendezvous Dating were now. “There she is.” She made her voice light. “Hallelujah.”

      He didn’t turn to look behind him. He kept his attention fixed on her. “The Facebook site. We’ll catch up online. I’ll friend you.”

      She needed to end this conversation now. And she needed to avoid him for the rest of their overlapping time on St. Barts. She prayed he wasn’t also on his way to the island’s singles resort where she and Celine were headed. Wouldn’t that be the cruelest joke. She wanted him far away from her boot camp weekend. Far, far away.

      Her heart pounded. It was not in her nature to be cruel, but this was self-preservation, pure and simple. She needed him gone, immediately. “No. No Facebook. No Twitter. No email. No nothing. I’m not interested in being your friend, virtual or otherwise.”

      An unexpected expression crossed Celine’s face, where she stood behind Brett. Confusion. Concern. Celine touched Brett’s arm, and he turned toward her, a smile on his face.

      Elisa’s internal warning system shifted into overdrive.

      That wasn’t just any smile. That was Brett’s patented twenty-four-hour smile.

      “Hey,” said Brett to Celine. Affectionately.

      Oh, shit.

      Celine’s face was tipped up toward Brett like a flower receiving the sun. “Wait a sec. You know Elisa?”

      Elisa could only watch this terrible slowly unfurling mess. With an audience. People had stopped trying to pretend they weren’t listening. Elisa could see naked curiosity on a few faces.

      Brett frowned. “How do you know Elisa?”

      No one spoke for a moment, and Brett’s eyes moved from Elisa to Celine and back again.

      And then he got it.

      “Oh, sweetheart,” he said to Celine. “If you were trying to date a guy who isn’t a jerk, you missed the mark by a mile.”

      2

      CELINE LOOKED LIKE she’d been punched. She had a sweet heart-shaped face that made her appear younger than her twenty-two years, and her bottom lip trembled. Elisa turned on Brett, years of self-righteous anger reasserting themselves. “Do you have to act like such a jerk?”

      In the seat behind Brett an older woman hid a smile, but Elisa felt no sense of triumph.

      “Apparently,” he said easily. He leaned back against the nearest seat, clearly enjoying himself. “I always was good at it.” The occupant of the seat gave Brett a dirty look, but Brett couldn’t have seemed more relaxed if he’d put both hands behind his head and kicked off his shoes. It pissed her off, not only because she was sweaty and stressed out, and he was the coolest customer on earth, but also because he looked so freaking good. Why were cocky asshole men so hot? It was just. Not. Fair.

      She had to rein it in. Her attraction, her irritation, her temper. This was a disaster on so many levels, she didn’t know where to start figuring it out. And their audience was turning against them, passengers starting to gripe audibly to each other. Drama was one thing, open conflict another.

      She’d wanted attention. That was the whole point of this outing. But now things were totally out of her control. There was this—this swerve. She didn’t want eyes on her as she untangled these knots. “We’ll talk about this after the flight lands,” she said, with as much authority as she could summon.

      Brett shrugged. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

      Celine watched them, her gaze moving from one to the other, as if the volley of words was visible.

      “I’d like to know what’s going on.” Elisa crossed her arms.

      Brett raised his eyebrows. “Ask your client.”

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