“I’m not flirting. I’m making conversation.”
I cross my arms, a classic defensive pose. “I suppose sooner or later we will have to address what happened between us.”
“Sure, we can do that.”
His expression is maddeningly unreadable. He hasn’t shaved today. This only adds to his gruff and sexy vibe.
I start to chew my lip, an old habit, and stop myself. “I was having a lot of emotions that night. I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable.”
He rolls his eyes. “Shit, I like you better when you’re not so clenched and nervous.”
“You don’t make me nervous.”
“Liar.”
I hiss out an annoyed breath and loosen my arms. “You don’t make me nervous,” I insist again. “And you’re hardly the first man who’s touched me so don’t go flattering yourself that I’m about to swoon after a thirty second make out session.”
He studies me. “Is that your clumsy way of saying you’re no virgin?”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
“Bummer.” He shrugs. “I mean, I only stopped by today in the hopes of busting your cherry before lunch.”
“Very funny. But there’s the Trent Cassini I remember. Crude as ever.”
“That’s bullshit. I was never crude to you.”
“You’re right. You never had much to do with me at all.”
He thinks that’s funny. “Well, it hadn’t occurred to me that you’ve been nursing a huge crush for all these years.”
I throw him a withering look. “Please. You know damn well I never had a crush on you. And you certainly didn’t show much interest in me.”
“That’s true. I didn’t find you very interesting.”
“Why did you kiss me the other night, Trent?”
His shoulders lift in a careless shrug. “You wanted to be kissed and so I kissed you.”
“That simple, huh?”
“Why not?”
“You’re still…”
He lifts an eyebrow, waits for me to search for the word.
“Impenetrable,” I finish.
Trent’s eyes flicker. “Are you penetrable, Gretch?”
There he goes, baiting me again. I tighten my jaw and refuse to get ruffled.
Trent chuckles anyway, which is tremendously annoying.
“You’re trying too hard to be a mystery,” I inform him.
He shakes his head. “I’m not trying at all.”
“All you do is make vulgar comments instead of saying something significant. It’s boring.”
“If there’s something particular you want to know then ask.”
“All right.” I cross the room and try to glare but the effect is diminished by the fact that I need to look up at him. “What are you thinking about right now?”
Trent doesn’t need to mull over the question. “I’m thinking that you’d probably lighten up in a hurry if you sat on my face and let me lick your pussy for a while.”
I’ve been catcalled plenty of times on the streets of New York. I’ve been propositioned using the filthiest language imaginable and always laughed it off. Hearing those words roll from Trent in such a matter-of-fact way is something else entirely. I can’t even draw a breath. I’m equal parts stunned and aroused.
The dining room table is necessary to my dignity right now. I lean against it for support.
Trent watches my response with what appears to be only a vague level of amusement.
“I need to go back outside,” I tell him but he doesn’t move from the doorway.
“You didn’t interest me back then,” he says.
“No need to repeat yourself,” I grumble.
But Trent’s not finished with his thought.
“You interest me now, Gretchen. More than I’d like.”
After dropping that little bombshell he disappears from the doorway. Seconds later I hear the hinges of the back door shriek as he returns to the backyard.
Trent’s motives are difficult to guess. Perhaps he’s just trying to provoke me for fun, although I don’t know what he’d get out of that. But I’m positive I’m not imagining the charged attraction between us. We both feel it, whether we should or shouldn’t.
And I know I shouldn’t.
I have responsibilities. I have the girls and they come first. I’ve never put much effort into relationships anyway. The emotional investment is a drain on my time and my time has always seemed better spent in pursuit of more tangible goals. From college on, sex is something to be enjoyed and not treated with seriousness.
Still, the days of hot flings and wild sex are over. Even if they weren’t, I shouldn’t be having hot flings and wild sex with my brother’s oldest friend.
Before I leave the room I check the shallow bottom drawer of the china cabinet, half expecting to find more candles. Instead, there’s a row of long stainless steel utensils that are clearly meant to be used for grilling. I scoop them up and shut the drawer.
Out on the patio, Danny has already rolled off the cover of the grill and is lighting the burners while ranting about team lineups and designated hitters and other baseball matters. Trent listens as he stands back, propped up against one of the pergola posts. He was once as much of an athlete as Danny. I suppose he lost the opportunity to play when he was sent away to that reform school and never found a way to get back to the game.
Danny brightens when he sees me. “Good, you found them.”
The silver forks and spatulas are clutched in my right hand like weapons. Carefully, I set them down on the iron picnic table that’s been here forever and now shows spots of rust.
“The girls are playing in the carriage house?” I ask my brother.
“Yup.” Danny plucks the nearest fork and spears it into a pile of raw meat. “Someone will eat these brats, right?”
Trent steps over to watch the food land on the grill. “Damn, I didn’t realize what a mouthful those things are. Think you can handle one that size, Gretchen?”
He winks at me, the insinuation clear. Trent has decided to see how hard he can push my buttons before I erupt.
Joke’s on him. I won’t be erupting.
The meat sizzles. Danny throws burger patties on haphazardly. “Last I checked, Gretchen takes pride in her vegetarian status.”
I smile, not at my brother, but at Trent. “Actually, I eat meat all the time.”
“No kidding.” Trent tilts his head. “All the time, huh?”
“Every chance I get.” I strut in front of him, aware that my v-neck black sweater and tight jeans do good work showing off my figure. “I’m a big fan. And I’m not even slightly shy about getting my fill.”
Trent’s expression flickers and he shifts his weight. He clears his throat and can’t come up with a snappy response. I roll my tongue over my upper lip for emphasis. He blows out a thick breath and has to look away.
There.
Victory is mine.
Danny remains oblivious. He flings a metal spatula to Trent. “Hey, watch these, would you? Thought I saw a bottle of barbecue sauce in the pantry so I’m gonna grab it.”
“Will do,” Trent says and casually flips the spatula in his fingers as he watches me with a lazy smile.