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He looked perplexed enough that Clair wanted to hit him. “No, not to me. Far as I know, you’re not attracted to me.”
He cocked one brow, then looked pointedly at her body. “I’d be more than happy to prove you wrong on that.”
Clair groaned. “So then why do you want the woman in the photos so bad? She gets naked and that makes you so interested you can’t let it go?”
He immediately shook his head. “She does look hot, no way around that. I mean, any woman who’s comfortable being naked is okay in my book.”
“Really?”
He grinned. “Hell yeah. If it was up to me, all women would stay naked. At least when we were alone together.”
That had Clair blushing a bit, especially as Harris let his gaze roam over her, no doubt imagining her in such a state. Not that he had to imagine, if he only realized....
“But the woman in the photo also said some nice things in her notes.”
“So?”
Harris rubbed the back of his neck and paced away. He had a gorgeous back, strong and broad, sleek and hard with muscle. His shorts rode low on his hips, hugging a narrow behind and strong thighs. “This is kind of embarrassing.”
She knew all about embarrassing. “Why? We’re friends.”
He nodded, turned to face her. “She said I’m generous.” Harris looked uncomfortable. “And funny and heroic.”
Men could be such dolts. “Well, of course she did. Because you are.” Clair handed him his water. “You’re one of the greatest guys I know.”
The water never made it to his mouth. “You think so?”
“Absolutely.”
“But I didn’t know....”
“Harris,” she said with aggrieved sigh. “Do you think I’d hang out with a guy who was an idiot?”
His mouth tipped in a crooked grin. “You call me an idiot all the time.”
Too true. It had always been her way of making sure she kept her feelings to herself. A self-protection mechanism of sorts that reminded her she wasn’t to get too romantic with Harris.
Clair moved back to the living room and dropped onto her overstuffed, oversize couch. She stretched out her legs, caught Harris staring at them, and smiled. “Yeah, well, I insult you with affection. I don’t mean it.” She sent him a quick grin, just to keep her comments from getting too dramatic. “If I didn’t like, respect and admire you, I wouldn’t want your company.”
His brows came down, his expression arrested. Clair stared at him over her glasses. “Now what’s wrong?”
With a small shake of his head, Harris muttered, “I need to think. You’ve sort of thrown a bunch of stuff at me all at once.”
“Thinking is good.” Clair waited while he, too, plopped onto the sofa. Because of their conversation, sitting so close to him felt different this time. “You should decide what you’ll do once you find this woman. I mean, have you considered that?”
He propped his big feet on her coffee table and let his head fall back. “At least a hundred times.”
Clair stared at his abdomen. It, too, was hard, lean and ridged with muscle. A dark, silky line of hair led from his navel to beneath the waistband of his shorts.
She held herself in check, when what she wanted to do was attack him again. “So,” she said, sounding a little strained, “what if she’s a witch? What if she has an ogre’s personality? She could be like a fatal attraction or something. A nut. A slasher even.”
Harris rolled his head toward her. “You made your point early on, hon. Now you’re just stretching it.”
Clair shrugged. “But the point is valid.”
“Maybe.” Harris stared at her, surveying her face as if trying to read her thoughts. “She didn’t sound like a slasher in her notes. She sounded like a nice lady.”
Here we go again. “You don’t want a nice lady, Harris, remember? You want someone who’s out for kicks. Nice women tend to get serious thoughts when they’re having sex with a guy.”
His blue eyes filled with speculative interest. Still lounging back lazily, he said, “You’re nice.”
Nervousness fluttered through her. Was there a point to that? Maybe something she was missing? She took a big gulp of her water, then agreed, “I’m very nice.”
Harris warmed to his topic, leaning toward her a bit, resting his arm along the back of the sofa. His fingers just touched her nape, teasing her a bit. “So if we slept together,” he asked in a slow drawl, “you’d want to settle down with me?”
Lord yes. She wanted to claim him as her own, and have babies and make love every night.... “I dunno.” Her feigned indifference was laudable. “See, even if we did sleep together...”
“Yes?”
“I have an advantage.”
“Do tell. I’m on the edge of my seat here.”
Smugly, Clair stated, “Unlike other women you know, I have no illusions. I’ve watched you revel in your bachelor ways.”
“I don’t revel.” His mouth flattened in distaste. “You make it sound like I go around dancing and singing about it. I just enjoy my life, that’s all.”
“Thing is,” Clair continued, ignoring his protests, “I’m not sure you really know what you want or feel.”
“So I can’t figure out you or me, huh? What a dope I must be.”
“I didn’t say that, Harris. Don’t put words in my mouth.” He grinned at her, seeming far from insulted. “Look at the way you’re panting over a photo. That proves you’re anxious for a serious relationship.”
“You think so? I thought it just meant I was curious.”
So curious, he’d hired two very expensive detectives to find the woman. Clair made a face at him. “What if,” she said, determined to get her theory out in the open, “what you really want is to be loved?”
For a suspended moment in time, Harris froze. Then he jeered. “Do I look that needy to you?”
“No.” Given the perfect opening, Clair spoke from her heart. “You look like a guy who’s a great catch. Earnest when you need to be. Reliable. Dedicated.” Melancholy got a stranglehold on her. Helplessly, she said, “You’re a hero, Harris. A gorgeous, sexy, funny, bona fide hero.”
He slowly straightened in his seat. “Don’t overdo it, Clair.”
“I’m serious.” She scooted closer to him on the couch. “You’re an incredible guy.”
His gaze zeroed in on her mouth. “Clair, you do realize you’re turning me on again, right?” His big warm hand came up to cup her cheek. “I hope that’s your intent and not part of this new sadistic streak you’ve developed.”
Clair chewed her lower lip. She did want to arouse him, but she didn’t want to push him too far. She wanted them to talk more before they took the plunge.
“Listen. I’ve told you what I really think of you.” She drew a deep breath for courage—and inhaled his scent. After their jog, he was a little sweaty, but he smelled delicious. The way a man should, the way Harris always did. “Now why don’t you tell me what you think of me?”
His thumb brushed her jaw. “Sure.” The left side of his mouth kicked up. “You’re cute, in a funky egghead, jock sort of way.”
The romantic haze cleared from around her. “Be still my heart.”
The teasing glimmer in his blue eyes clued her in. “Now Clair, what did you want me to say? You keep changing on me, so I don’t know your personality anymore.”
He knew her better than anyone, including her family. He just didn’t realize it yet.
“I can’t even tell what you’re thinking most of the time because you always hide behind your glasses.” The seductive way he caressed her neck mesmerized her. “Do you shower in them? Sleep in them?” His voice dropped. “Make love in them?”
Clair tried to rear back, but Harris kept her in place with the gentle hold on the back of her neck, and his compelling stare. “I’m not telling,” she whispered.
“Then I think I’ll find out on my own.” He reached for her frames.
Clair couldn’t let him take her glasses off! He might recognize her. She shoved him hard, but Harris being Harris—a big, sturdy, physically fit firefighter—he didn’t budge.
“You want to wrestle?” he said with a laugh, and he caught her flying hands while somehow managing to tickle her. The next thing Clair knew they were rolling off the couch and onto the floor. She landed on Harris with a grunt, but only had a split second to enjoy that position before he flipped her beneath him. The coffee table got shoved away, and Harris settled himself between her thighs.
Uh-oh. “Harris...”
He caught both her hands in one of his, pinning them in place, keeping her still. And then, with her squawking and protesting, he slid her glasses off and placed them gingerly on the table.
Clair went mute in fear, sure that he’d recognize her.
Instead, he leaned down until his mouth just touched hers. “Can I show you my ideas on the differences between horny and antsy?”
He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and all that sleek bare skin was against her. He smelled like a man should, like something that could be bottled and sold to make a fortune. And she could feel his hard, hair-roughened thighs on the tender insides of her legs. “Yes.” Her heart threatened to punch out of her chest. “You can show me.”
“I love a good sport.”
Her breath caught at the word love, and then Harris murmured, “Here’s horny.”
His mouth settled over hers, moving hotly, urging her lips to part so his tongue could sink inside. At the same time, he gently rocked his pelvis against hers, teased her nipples with the pressure of his chest. His breath was hot on her cheek, fast and low.
Wow. When he lifted away, Clair had to struggle to get her eyes open. “Lust,” she whispered in complete agreement.
“Right. And here’s antsy.” He released her hands to cup her face, holding her still as he kissed her deeply again. Clair groaned. Kissing Harris was a revelation. She now realized that among his other accolades, she’d have to add “awesome kisser.”
He eased away. “So what do you think?”
Her head was spinning, her heart beating too fast. “They were the same.”
“Right, because there isn’t a difference.” He dropped a kiss on her nose. “It’s just preference, Clair. Sometimes I like it hard and fast.”
She groaned again.
“But sometimes,” he said, drawing it out and searing her with a look, “I like to make it last all night.”
Clair wasn’t sure she could take an all-nighter. But then he kissed her temple, and when he spoke, his voice was a rough whisper.
“For you, I’d make it last.”
Okay, so maybe she could take it. Clair started to wrap her arms around him, but Harris held her off. His smile looked pained, and his muscles were taut with restraint. He kissed her nose again—and sat up.
“But since you’re playing some strange game here and I can’t quite figure out the rules yet, I think I better call it a night.”
She didn’t want him to go now, darn it. She wanted...
Harris touched her cheek, smoothed her hair. “When we sleep together, Clair—and we will, so don’t deny it—I don’t want any miscommunication or regrets. We’ll both be in agreement, and we’ll both enjoy it. Okay?”
A little numb, Clair nodded.
When Harris pushed to his feet, she sat up and quickly located her glasses. She felt more self-assured with the visual barrier in place. “Harris?”
He smiled down at her, giving her a sense of déjà vu, but with her in the wrong position. In the park, she’d done this to him—led him on, then walked away.
He tipped his head toward her.
“Thank you.”
A smile warmed his expression. “For waiting?”
“And for understanding. I...I guess I’m not a hundred percent sure what I want yet.”
“Between us?”
“Yes.” She bit her lip. “I don’t think you are either.”
“Now there’s where you’re wrong. I know what I want—and I know I’ll get it. That’s the only reason I can be so patient now.”
Clair blinked hard. Had she finally made some serious progress?
“Good night, Clair,” Harris said, and his expression was warm, intimate. “Sweet dreams.”
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