My mind reels for an appropriately witty retort, but I can’t seem to come up with anything. Not when he’s staring at me with thoseeyes. Not quite green, not quite blue, altogether too focused on me. I search desperately for something — anything — to say, and finally settle on his name.
“Cormack,” I echo, brilliant as ever.
His eyes glimmer with humor. Extending a hand into the space between us, he grins in what I can only describe as a devilish manner.
“And you must be Phoebe.”
My stomach does a Celtic treble reel when he murmurs my name, his accent elongating the vowels.
Yeh must be Phey-bee.
Am I drooling? I think I might be drooling.
With as much composure as I can muster, I slide my hand into his. The skin of his palm is warm and slightly callused; his thumb strokes across my knuckles with feather-light sensuality — just once, but it’s enough to send the butterflies into another tizzy. I take a deep breath and order myself to pull it together.
“Phoebe West,” I confirm, craning my neck in an attempt at a flirty head tilt. It always seems to work for Lila. Judging by Cormack’s raised eyebrows, I look more along the lines of a car-crash victim with whiplash.
Pretending not to hear the feminine snorts of amusement coming from my (former) best friend, I straighten my head to normal angles and suppress a mortified grimace.
My mortification quickly fades when Cormack lifts my hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to the fragile skin there.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Phoebe.” A grin tugs at his lips. “Even if it’s not a pleasure you share.”
A pleasure to make your acquaintance…
Who talks like that?
Apparently sinfully attractive Irishmen with lips that were made for nibbling on—
Focus!
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude, before,” I say, tugging my hand from his. He lets it go after a tiny hesitation, as though he doesn’t quite want to break contact yet. I clear my throat. “I just wasn’t expecting…”
I shrug, as though I can’t find the words. I can find them, all right, I just don’t want to say any of them out loud.
I wasn’t expectingto get set-up with a man so hot he’d make a nun question her vows.
“Ahh, I see.” He nods in understanding. “Your friend Lila told me you’d agreed to meet me. I didn’t mean to catch you off guard.”
“It’s not you. Really. It’s just…” I can feel Lila glaring at me with such hostility, you’d think I ate all the mint chip ice cream and left the empty carton in the freezer. I try not to squirm. “These things never go very well, in my experience.”
His lips twist and he leans in so close, I smell his aftershave — crisp, clean, minty. “Do you have a lot of it, then?”
“What?”
“Experience,” he whispers, chucking under his breath and staring at me like I’m vastly entertaining. Or, maybe like I’m a car accident — something so disastrous, he simply can’t pull his eyes away.
“Um,” I squeak again.
He laughs — rich, throaty, full-bodied — and the sound pools in my stomach like warm honey.
“I’ve no desire to ruin your night, Phoebe. I’ll leave you to your friends.” His lips twist again. “Though, I must say, I don’t think I’ve ever been rejected by such a beautiful woman.”
Damn, he’s good. My mouth gapes.
“Goodbye,” he adds softly. Keeping those intent eyes locked on mine, he bows his head before turning on a heel to leave.
My eyes fly from his retreating back to Lila, who’s glaring daggers at me and gesturing wildly at Cormack.