Romancing The Wallflower. Michelle Major

block her path.

      She stumbled back a step, pressing her hand to her cheek. “Holy cow! You scared the pants off me.”

      David felt his mouth curve at that. If only.

      “No one says holy cow in real life,” he muttered, reaching out a hand to steady her.

      She shrugged off his touch. “Clearly people do say holy cow,” she countered. “Because I just did.” She crossed her arms over a chest that could benefit from a low-cut blouse. Oh, yes. David would definitely like to see this woman in something far more revealing than the conservative pastel-colored shirts she seemed to favor.

      The thought of undoing a few of her buttons made his blood run alarmingly hot.

      “Why are you skulking around out here?”

      “I’m not skulking,” he told her. “I’m waiting for you. You were just about to explain why you asked me for sex when you have a boyfriend.”

      Her delicate brows winged up. “No, I wasn’t.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Keep your voice down. I don’t want anyone to hear...” Even in the waning light he could see color flood her cheeks. When was the last time he’d been around a woman who actually blushed?

      “That you propositioned me?” he supplied.

      “Stop,” she said on a hiss of breath. “It wasn’t like that.”

      “It sure sounded like that to me. But I guess you need to keep me your dirty little secret since there’s a boyfriend in the picture.” He tapped a finger on his chin, as if pondering the concept. “I’ve never been a kept man before. I’ll admit it has a certain appeal.”

      Her eyes narrowed. “You’re teasing me.”

      He didn’t bother to hide his grin. “You seem unfamiliar with the concept.”

      She stared at him a moment longer, then gave a small sigh. He could almost feel on his skin the puff of breath that left her lips. Damn, but he wanted to feel it. He wanted to taste her to gauge for himself whether she was as sweet as she looked. He eased closer to her, slowly, as if she might spook if he moved too fast.

      He’d meant to confront her, demand what the hell she’d been thinking when she’d made that shocking request. But he liked the easy banter they fell into far too much. His life had never been easy, and a bit of innocent flirting with Erin gave him a few minutes’ reprieve from all the things he couldn’t control.

      She bit down on her lip but didn’t shy away. He liked that, too. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she mumbled.

      “Really?” he asked, even though he’d guessed as much.

      “Olivia was intent on playing matchmaker, and I didn’t want you to be forced into asking me out or anything. That’s a horrible feeling and I’m not...”

      “Interested?” He chuckled. “We both know that’s not true.”

      A shadow clouded her gaze, and he wasn’t sure what he’d said wrong, but he wanted to kick himself for it.

      “I’m not your type,” she said through clenched teeth, coming up on her toes and tipping back her head so that he got his wish and felt her breath tickle his chin. Her scent was a mix of cinnamon and sugar, like he imagined a kitchen might smell with a batch of cookies baking in the oven. Warm, inviting and the exact opposite of the cramped galley kitchen in the apartment where he’d grown up.

      He was so caught up in his reaction that he almost missed the words she spoke. As it was, by the time he opened his mouth to correct her, she’d brushed past him and was around the corner of the building.

      “Erin, wait,” he called, but instead of slowing she moved faster. It only took a few strides to catch up to her.

      “I need to go,” she said, keeping her gaze on the ground in front of her when he blocked her path.

      “Why do you think you’re not my type?” He was curious to know whether her reasons matched his.

      She gave a little shake of her head.

      “Erin.”

      “Am I your type?” she asked suddenly, her honey-colored gaze slamming into his.

      He opened his mouth, shut it again. How was he supposed to answer that? When she made to move around him again, he settled for the truth.

      “You’re way too good for me.”

      The comment earned him an eye roll. “If you say the words it’s me, not you, I’m going to punch you.”

      “I’m guessing you don’t go around punching people.”

      “You make me want to start.”

      He laughed again. “How is it that I’m the bad guy right now?”

      “You’re not,” she whispered. “I should never have made the request. I was tired, and it was stupid and embarrassing. Can we just forget about it?”

      He wished he could. Getting involved with this woman—in any capacity other than as his nephew’s teacher—was sure to be trouble for both of them. Why couldn’t he make himself walk away?

      “No one,” he said softly, unable to resist stepping into her space again, “would have to force a man to ask you out.”

      It was her turn to laugh, but there was no humor in it. All the light was gone from her golden eyes, and he wanted nothing more in life at that moment than to reignite it. “I know who I am, David.”

      He lifted his hands to cup her cheeks and felt a slight shiver pass through her. It drove him crazy with need. “Take another look,” he said, and touched his lips to hers.

      * * *

      Erin’s eyes drifted closed even as her body opened like the petals of a flower unfurling in the warm sunshine. Take another look? She’d planned to hold on to this moment like a priceless piece of art. If she could she’d frame it and hang it on her wall so she could always remember.

      David McCay was kissing her, and quite thoroughly at that. His lips were soft but firm as they glided over hers and she couldn’t resist darting her tongue into his mouth. He rewarded that bit of bravery with a small groan, which made sparks dance across her skin. She leaned into him, her breath hitching when his fingers laced through her hair and tugged gently.

      A whistle from a passing car made her wrest away from his embrace. She squeezed her hands into fists and pressed them to her sides when all she wanted was to wrap herself around him and hang on for dear life.

      “Women like you don’t do PDAs on the sidewalk,” he said, his voice rougher than normal.

      She bit down on the inside of her cheek and looked up at him through her lashes. “I don’t make it a habit,” she admitted. The truth was she’d never before had the opportunity. But it was Friday night and it wouldn’t be good for one of her students or another teacher to catch her in a full-blown make-out session on a public sidewalk.

      “Too good for me,” David repeated, and Erin realized he’d actually meant the words when he’d said them earlier.

      Her ex had said something similar when he’d broken up with her, but the insinuation behind the comment had been quite different. Good had been another way of saying boring. But if the heat in David’s gaze was any indication, he didn’t find her the least bit boring.

      Erin’s long-suffering ego broke out into a little happy dance, but she quickly pulled the plug on the music. “That isn’t true,” she said, pressing a hand to lips still tingling from his kiss.

      “You asked me for an affair, sweetheart.” He smoothed a loose strand of hair away from her face. “Not a date. We both know what that means.”

      “Would you have gone out on a date if I’d asked?”

      He shook his head,