Skin Deep. Tori Carrington

      Charlie leaned closer. “Can I get you another drink?”

      “Yes.”

      “No,” Michael said. He straightened from where he was leaning against the bar. “Sorry, Charlie, but this girl’s taken. Hit the road.”

      Kyra laughed. Not as a result of Michael’s caveman tactics, but because of the phrase he’d used. “Sorry, Charlie.” She hadn’t heard those words paired up since that commercial. What was it for? Tuna? She couldn’t remember.

      She sipped her beer, shrugging when Charlie gave her a questioning gaze. “It was nice to meet you, Charlie.”

      MICHAEL TRIED to cover Kyra with his jacket but was thwarted again by a simple shrug of those smooth, great-smelling shoulders.

      “Would you stop?” she said with a deep sigh, though the twinkle in her green eyes told him she was thoroughly enjoying his attentions.

      “Not until you either agree to cover up or leave.”

      She tugged at the hem of that tiny skirt, calling his attention to the legs it barely covered. He cleared his throat and turned his head away, trying like hell to ignore the heat spreading through his groin.

      Kyra tugged on his shirtsleeve in playful rebuke. “What is it with you tonight, anyway?”

      He scowled at her. “I don’t get what you mean.”

      “First you try to stop me from leaving the apartment, then you continually try to cover me up, and now you’re chasing people away from me. You’ve never done anything like this before.”

      “Yeah, well, I could say that you’ve never done anything like this before, either,” he said under his breath. “And those people you referred to aren’t people. They’re dogs.”

      Her burst of laughter further irritated him. He rubbed the back of his neck and lifted his bottle, only to find he’d emptied it. He raised his brows and lowered the amber glass back to the bar.

      “You don’t get it, do you? Even after all these years, and all the jerks you’ve gone out with, you don’t have a clue how the male mind works.”

      Kyra sat up a little straighter, then recrossed her legs. “Well, then, maybe you should educate me.”

      Educate her. He didn’t want to educate her. He wanted to take her home and lock her up in her apartment, alone, until she came to her senses. “Take that guy, for example.”

      “Uh-huh.”

      “He wasn’t interested in being your friend. He was interested in checking into the nearest motel room with you.”

      “Why not his place?”

      “Because his wife’s probably at his place.”

      He could tell by the widening of her charcoal-rimmed eyes that she hadn’t noticed the wedding band the idiot hadn’t bothered to take off before approaching Kyra.

      “Got you.”

      She made a face at him. “I just swapped names with the guy, Michael. Not phone numbers.”

      “Only because I chased him off.”

      She visually bristled. “And how do you know that doesn’t just prove my point—he wasn’t interested in me sexually, but was only seeking out a male-female friendship?”

      “Because the type of male-female friendships that guy’s after include some extracurricular activities.”

      “Like tennis?”

      “If it includes a bed, yes.”

      “Bed tennis. Sounds interesting.”

      Michael cleared his throat. “And short-lived.”

      Kyra crossed her arms under her newly found breasts. Michael’s gaze followed the movement, no matter how hard he fought not to look. “I’m getting the distinct impression you don’t like my new look, Michael.”

      He blinked at her. He loved it. He hated it. He ordered another beer. “If I didn’t think the sole intent of it was to get back at a certain someone, I wouldn’t mind a bit.”

      He narrowed his eyes, watching as her skin paled.

      “How did you know?” she asked quietly.

      “Because I know you.”

      “And you’re saying my new look is not me.”

      “I’m saying that you can be whatever you want to be, Kyra. But don’t change for some jerk who hasn’t a clue how much you’re worth.”

      A thoughtful shadow entered her eyes. Michael grimaced and looked the other way, glaring at the guy next to him who was also appreciating Kyra’s displayed assets.

      “And how much am I worth?” she asked, her words a mere whisper in the loud room.

      He accepted a fresh beer. “What?”

      “Come on. You heard me, Michael. And you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

      Well, he’d certainly stepped straight into that one, hadn’t he?

      “Let’s just say, more than ten of the jerks you’ve dated in the past four months combined.”

      “That much?”

      “More,” he said before he could consider the wisdom of the admission.

      “I see.”

      Kyra turned her attention back to her own barely touched beer, running her purple-tipped fingernails up and down the bottle, then tugging at the label.

      Uh-oh. He hated when she got quiet like this. Mainly because it meant she was formulating a question he would be totally unprepared to answer.

      “I’m hungry,” he announced, taking a few bills out of his pocket and flicking them on the bar. “Let’s say we go get something to eat.”

      Kyra laid a hand on his arm. “I say we stay and talk about your love life, instead.”

      Oh, hell. There it was.

      “When’s the last time you went out with someone, Michael?” she asked.

      “What’s that got to do with the price of beer?”

      She shrugged, jiggling those sweet swells of flesh. “Hey, if my love life is open for discussion, so is yours.”

      “Or lack thereof,” he muttered.

      “Exactly my point.”

      He stared across the bar at the bottles lined up against the mirror. “Kelly Jackson.”

      “One dinner doesn’t count.”

      “Penelope St. Clair.”

      She nodded. “Okay. Yes, you did go out with her a few times. About a year ago. Until she, like everyone else you’ve gone out with, got tired of running second fiddle to your career.”

      “Yes, well, maybe I haven’t found a woman as driven to succeed as I am.”

      “What about Janet Palmieri? Phyllis said you two had gone out a time or two before I hired on at the firm.”

      His partner? He grimaced. Trust the rumor-mongering secretary to fill Kyra in on that unworthy piece of gossip. “Two dinners. Not worth mentioning.”

      “Maybe that’s because you’re not willing to put the time you put into your career, into your personal life.”

      “Hey, I put time into our friendship.”

      She smiled. “Yeah, you do. Curious fact, that.”

      “How do you mean?”

      “Michael, why haven’t you and I ever gone out?”