shut up.”
Laughter on his lips at how easy she was to rile, he followed her inside and up the back stairs. A few steps below her, he found himself eye level with an amazing ass and wished he hadn’t just been picturing such graphic thoughts.
When, he wondered, had Lulu become so thoroughly feminine? She had curves on top of curves, and he couldn’t tear his stare off those amazing hips and thighs as he followed two steps behind her. Thinking about porn and voyeurism and sex ninety seconds before being presented face-to-butt with pure temptation was not a good thing for any guy. Especially not if he wanted to keep his jeans lying flat against his groin.
His weren’t.
Holy shit. They weren’t.
He was hard for Lulu. If he were to be honest about it, he’d have to admit he’d started getting hard when she’d made that crack about her bedsprings.
This was unacceptable on so many levels, he couldn’t even begin to count them. Lulu had made his life hell, she was trouble, she was a part of his past that he didn’t much care to revisit. He had no business imagining her body or her bed or anything else.
On the top step, she swung around and caught him staring.
“I knew you were looking at my ass,” she said, typical blunt Lulu.
He couldn’t even try to deny it. Hell, all she had to do was glance down and see the bulge in his jeans and she’d prove him a liar. Which meant he needed to keep her attention focused above his waist.
“Guilty. You definitely grew up.” He stepped up beside her, forcing himself to smile down at her. “When’d that happen?”
“When you weren’t looking.”
He was looking now, though he shouldn’t be. He couldn’t even figure out why he wanted to. This was Lulu of all people! The girl had poured an entire milkshake over his head once because he’d asked her if she’d been crying. He had no doubt she’d do the same thing again today if she had the chance.
“I somehow suspect you forgot who you were talking to and who you were ogling,” she whispered, blinking those dark eyes—familiar eyes, beautiful eyes—and staring searchingly at his face.
“Maybe I did, for just a minute.”
Some instinct he couldn’t define made him reach up to smooth back a strand of her long, dark hair, which was wind-whipped and soft against his fingers. His fingertips brushed against her cheekbone, and he realized her skin was equally as soft, her peaches-and-cream complexion revealing a flush of color in her face.
Her tongue flicked out and she moistened her lips, exhaling a long, slow breath as the lingering stare continued.
He was hit with the strangest feeling of déjà vu. It was ridiculous, really, because he’d never touched her like this. He’d never even dreamed he might someday have the impulse to lean in and taste that sassy, saucy mouth, to kiss the insults right out of it.
And yet he did.
He suddenly wanted to kiss her, wanted to experience that lush mouth against his own. He wanted to press her soft, curvy body against his and wanted to explore every inch of her.
Of Lulu. Lulu Vandenberg.
“Lulu,” he whispered, feeling himself lean closer, drawn by something irresistible and irrevocable, as if he had no strength of will.
Their faces came close. Their lips nearly touched.
Then she took a step back and grabbed the dishes out of his hands. “I can handle it from here.”
He blinked, shaking his head hard, wondering whether he’d fallen under some magic spell. How else could he possibly explain his desire to do something as insane as kiss a girl he’d barely tolerated for most of his life?
“Thanks for the help,” she said, stepping across the small hallway to the door of her place. “I’ll see you later.”
Not waiting for him to reply, she twisted the unlocked knob and stepped into her apartment. She shut the door hard, the audible flipping of the lock from within punctuating what she’d been saying to him.
Good night. Goodbye. Go away.
“You’re welcome,” he whispered. “Goodbye.”
He would swear he heard her shuddery exhalation from inside. Chaz sensed she stood right on the other side of the door, resting her head against it, uncomfortable, unsure.
How very unlike her.
He turned to do exactly as she wanted. He would go away. For now, at least.
But not forever.
Because something had occurred to him when she’d reacted so anxiously to their unexpected chemistry. For some reason, having him around made her nervous. The situation unsettled her far more than it did him. Which meant for once in their long history, he had the advantage.
How interesting to finally have gained an advantage over Lulu Vandenberg.
And how fun it might be to use that advantage to drive her absolutely insane.
ALTHOUGH LULU TRIED to keep her mind off Chaz, mere proximity made it impossible. Over the next several days, she ran into him every single morning. It was as if fate kept putting him in her path. Or, well, their work schedules did.
They both left at around the same time every weekday, and both rode the Metro to their respective places of employment. That meant they walked to the station together, waited together, even rode together for a few stops. They talked, at least as much as two coffee addicts could manage to talk at seven in the morning.
And both of them put on a pretty good front, as if they didn’t really mind being thrown into each other’s company so much, even though she, at least, definitely did. Because being with Chaz—even when she was bleary-eyed and coffee-deprived, focused on work and the shitty commute and the rush of people in the city—still excited her altogether too much for her peace of mind.
She just couldn’t go back to thinking of him as good old Chaz. Not when she’d spent one wicked evening with the man, a man more sexually exciting than any she’d ever known. The attraction was eating at her, the pressure to keep her secret intensely frustrating. Every time she saw Chaz swing his head around to catch a glimpse at a passing redhead, she wanted to stomp on his foot, grab his face and order him to look at her.
Yes, she’d been masked, yes her hair had been sprayed a different color, yes she’d intentionally tried to change the tone of her voice, but still, couldn’t he recognize her scent? The shape of her mouth? The hands, the body, the laugh? Jesus, she would be able to pick him out in a packed stadium, even if she’d never met him before Halloween night, and the fact that he hadn’t even begun to connect her to his mystery witch was driving her a little nutty.
She’d told herself she was being stupid, since evading detection was absolutely necessary. But that hadn’t helped much. The more her frustration
