I shied away farther, my back digging into the bookshelf, as I tried to put more distance between us. “I’m not a trophy, nor do I aspire to become a notch on someone’s belt. I’m not the kind of girl who rolls out of a man’s bed after one meaningless night of sleeping together.”
He laughed softly. “I don’t know about meaningless, sweetheart, but the sleeping part is not usually the way I do things.”
I rolled my eyes. “You just don’t get it, do you? I’m not looking for a fling.”
“That’s too bad,” he said, settling his hands on the bookcase behind me, effectively caging me in. His masculine frame towered over me, forcing me to look up to see his eyes. “Because it’d be hot as hell watching you come unwound.”
He brought one hand around and removed the glasses from my face, then reached up with the other and let my red hair fall out of my clip.
Again? Seriously?
It was nerve-wracking the way his gaze roamed aimlessly over my face and body. As if he were imagining me naked in his arms, writhing beneath him while he thrust into me. And that thought alone horrified me as much as it delighted me. God, help me.
I didn’t stamp my foot, but I wanted to. “Are you done, yet?”
“Nope. Not even close. I want to know the real reason why you won’t go out with me.”
“Okay, fine.” I crossed my arms to show my exasperation, but mostly to hide my body’s response to his proximity. “You’re someone who appreciates bluntness, right? You like to call a spade a spade?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He was still smiling.
“The reason I won’t go out with you is simple.” I heaved out a breath and pushed the loose hair behind my ear, knowing I was about to wipe that smug smile off his stupid perfect face. “You’re a king on a throne, and your sordid reputation with women is well-known throughout the land.”
“What?” His brows lowered over his eyes and his smile dissipated. “That’s your reason for not—”
“I’m not finished,” I stated firmly, tapping my foot on the tiled floor. “Like I told you the other night, we’re not a good match. Way too different, in fact. I’m predictable and dull and, without a doubt, you’d become easily bored with me.”
His eyes softened. “You’re not—”
“Not finished,” I chastised, placing my hands on my hips. “I’m perpetually behind everyone else in most things, including fashion, and I’m a compulsive neat freak. I’m also logical and conservative.”
“You probably recycle,” he said with a smirk.
“Actually, I do. But then again, so do you.” When he looked at me funny, I continued. “You recycle women. Use them up and toss them aside, leaving them for someone else while you wait for a new one to come along and replenish your stash.”
“That’s not true. I—”
“I’m still not through,” I said, raising my hand to stop him. “Face it, Cowboy, we’re nothing alike. Therefore, I think us going on a date would be futile and one hundred percent counterproductive.” When he didn’t say anything right away, I asked, “Do you understand what I mean by that?”
He tipped his hat back, and I could see the indignation blazing in his eyes. “Being a southern redneck don’t make me stupid,” he drawled, clearly offended. I started to apologize, but he spoke up first. “Just one date.”
“I’m sorry, Cowboy, but I have no interest in having dinner with you…or anything else for that matter. I don’t want to be just another anonymous name on your list or another temporary playmate in your bed. For the last time, my answer is still no.” Then I closed my mouth and bit down on my tongue before I did something stupid. Like change my mind.
We stared at each other momentarily before his jaw tightened and he said, “You done?”
I gave him a terse nod.
“Good. Then it’s my turn.” He relaxed into a seemingly more comfortable position. “First off, you should be less critical of yourself. You’re not nearly as dull as you make yourself out to be.”
“I’m not—”
“Not finished. I’ve got the floor, remember? You’ve had your turn.”
I made a sweeping motion with my arm for him to continue.
“Second, allow me to put your foolish concerns to rest.”
“Fine.”
“You telling me that you’re not my type is total bullshit, and you know it. You purposely make yourself unattractive to men with your long skirts and buttoned-up blouses. Hell, nuns wear less clothing than you do.” Cowboy chuckled at his remark. “But let me assure you of one thing, sweetheart. Out of the two of us, the only one who mentioned anything directly related to sex is you.”
My eyes narrowed at him. “What are you talking about?”
“Darlin’, just because I make a flirty pass and ask you to dinner doesn’t mean I expect to bend you over the nearest flat surface. That’s your hang-up, not mine.”
Oh God. He was right! He hadn’t actually asked me for sex…yet. Great. So now I was the sexual deviant. How the hell had that happened?
“You would’ve eventually—”
“Not done,” he said, pulling a page from my own book. “Let me tell you what else I know.” He shifted his weight, as if he planned for us to be here a while. “Something about you is off. Last night you reacted to that fire the same as you do to me—you panicked. I don’t know what it is or why, but there’s something you aren’t telling me.”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. But lucky for you, I can help with both of those things. And that is not by any means me asking you for sex.” Cowboy displayed a smug grin. “Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I’m a catch.”
I rolled my eyes. “And modest, too.”
“Anna, all I’m asking for is dinner. What we do—or don’t do—afterward is completely up to you.”
“Give me one good reason why I should.”
“Huh?”
I crossed my arms and huffed. “Go on, tell me. Why me?”
He squinted at me. “Is this a trick question?”
“No. I really want to know. Why are you so insistent when I have repeatedly refused you?”
“You intrigue me.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t know enough about me to be intrigued.”
He sighed. “See? No matter what I say, you’re not going to believe me, anyway,” he said, waving me off.
“That’s because you’re only saying what you think I want to hear. Why don’t you try it again, but this time, throw in a little truth?”
Cowboy stood a little straighter as he glared at me. “Fine,” he snarled. “You want to know why I asked you out? It’s because…” He hesitated, then shrugged and turned away from me. “Never mind. This is stupid.”
I stepped around him and faced him. “Why? Are you afraid to give me an honest answer? Or maybe it’s because you can’t?”
He threw his hands in the air. “Because I knew you’d say no, okay?”
I blinked, not expecting him to be so forthcoming.
“That is what you wanted me to admit, right? That I’m intrigued by you because you don’t want anything to do with me.” He hooked his thumbs into the loopholes on his jeans and ground out, “Does that satisfy your curiosity?”
Yes. Unfortunately. But it didn’t change a thing.
Obviously, brushing off his advances hadn’t worked. In fact, the whole thing had backfired. Even worse, his little speech had nearly coaxed a yes from me. But self-preservation demanded I end this once and for all. That left me with no choice but to bruise that precious male ego of his, which would require something drastic, since he had an ego the size of Texas.
“Come with me,” I told him, turning to walk up the aisle.