The pleasure of being next to her washed through him with such surprising force that he felt his stomach muscles contract. And for a second he didn’t say anything. He nearly stood up, a reflex born of Southern manners. He stopped himself just in time.
Her hair was swept up off her face with a clip and waved on down to her shoulders. Which was how he noticed, suddenly, that it was shaped a bit like a heart, thanks to some magic collaboration between her cheekbones and chin. She was wearing a sort of floaty floral shirt tied at the waist over a low-scooped pink camisole, and a short denim skirt that inspired an ungentlemanly impulse to invite her to sit down so he could see just how far up her tanned thighs it rode. Just enough to leave a little mystery, he was pretty certain.
“Hi,” he said, belatedly. “I nearly jumped up like an eager golden retriever when I saw you coming, Britt Langley.”
She tipped her head and studied him. “A golden retriever? Funny, but you don’t strike me as the obedient type, J. T.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Oh, I can take instruction on occasion. Like Kevin.”
“Kevin?”
“Of Kevin and Cherisse, in the room next to mine? He takes instruction from Cherisse. All. Night. Long.”
Britt froze.
From her expression, she was clearly imagining him listening to “Faster!” “Harder!” “A little to the left!” all night long.
“Just imagine what Cherisse is taking,” she said, finally.
And he gave his head a slow shake to and fro and smiled, as if her answer was better than anything he could have anticipated. As if he’d known she’d had it in her.
She smiled, too. And then she surprised him again: she put a Sierra Nevada Stout down in front of him.
He looked at it, then up at her. “I’m touched you remembered.” He was, in fact, as absurdly pleased as if he’d won a prize. She must have seen him come in before he saw her.
“I’d memorize pi out to twenty digits if I thought you’d tip me well for it.”
She was teasing. Probably even officially flirting.
If anyone with bionic vision had looked their way surely they would have seen tiny sparks flying from both of them.
“Actually...” She took in a deep breath. “This one is on me.”
Well.
Surprise number three.
There were an awful lot of things he could have glibly said aloud in response to what she’d just said: “...which is exactly where I want to be,” chief among them.
He let his expression do the talking for him.
From her expression, she heard him clearly.
He was pretty sure she was blushing, though it was hard to tell in the dark.
But neither of them blinked.
Britt Langley seemed to have done a little thinking since he’d seen her last. He could work with this.
He fished out a five dollar bill. “Will this do for a tip?”
“Nicely.” She whisked it away.
“Funny,” he mused, “but now I want pie.”
She laughed.
It was impossible not to notice when the big red-faced guy turned to the sound of her laughter. It was like someone had set a building on a turntable and rotated it.