wasn’t anything close to smarmy if that was what she thought. He wasn’t that guy, not like his father, who’d say one thing then do another, and never would be.
Her gaze shifted from his chest to his eyes and registered some kind of sincerity. “I’m very grateful for that.” They stared at each other for a couple more beats of his pulse, which was definitely thumping stronger than usual.
“I don’t know what kind of guys they raise in your neck of the woods, but we’re a mostly honorable bunch here.”
“Good to know. Like I said, sorry for getting tipsy back there.”
He liked looking at her pointy chin and long, smooth throat, and it made it hard for him to read the moment. Was she cooling off? “Don’t worry about anything. You were fine.”
“I don’t want you to get the wrong impression about me.”
“I haven’t and wouldn’t.”
“Thanks.”
“But maybe stay out of bars for a while.” He thought a little teasing might loosen her up again. “Keep your nose clean. Stay under the radar.” He disengaged his hands from her small hips and used one to demonstrate flying under the radar.
“Hey, I’m an adult, remember?” She’d taken it good-naturedly. “And I didn’t exactly make a fool out of myself.”
“In the bar or just now?”
She nailed him with a disapproving stare. “I’m an emancipated woman and I kiss whomever I want, wherever I want.”
“Got it. In fact, you can do it again if you want.”
He’d done his job, made her laugh against her will. “Let’s make the next one a rain check, okay? I’m all kissed out for tonight.”
All kissed out? They’d just gotten started. Maybe she wasn’t as turned on as he’d hoped.
At least she’d said “the next one.” Yeah, that was the spirit. “Definitely.” He went along with the distancing process because he sensed she needed it, and underplayed his honest-to-goodness disappointment. Anything to make her comfortable with the fact she’d laid a pretty spectacular kiss on him right there in front of the Heritage Hotel entrance, yet didn’t want to take things any further. “Your reputation’s safe with me.”
“My reputation is just fine, thank you very much.”
Usually, after a kiss like that, the ladies invited him in, and even though she’d just asked for a rain check on the next one, she’d gotten her feathers ruffled over his playful comment, and it puzzled him. Maybe that’s all he could expect from a lady who was supposed to be a thoracic surgeon but hated the sight of blood.
Gunnar had a strong hunch getting invited into her hotel room wasn’t going to happen with Lilly the jaywalking journalist anytime soon. He wanted to let her know it was okay. He was fine with taking things slow. Especially if he could look forward to more spectacular kisses like that.
“Write some good stories for the newspaper, and no one will remember your pool-hall days.” Her head shot up. “You didn’t think I knew that, did you?”
Those pretty brown eyes lit up. “How did you know?”
Of course he knew she was a reporter. Hell, with all those questions about hush-hush meetings he’d have to be a damn fool not to figure it out. The lady wanted to know the secret so she could blab it all over the newspaper before the committee decided how best to handle things.
Well, she wouldn’t find out from him, that was for sure, no matter how great she kissed.
“For one thing, the newspaper is right across the hall from the police department and Bjork has a big mouth. For another, you’re the nosiest lady I’ve ever met. I put two and two together.”
As if she’d been outed, she went brazen-faced. “The thing is, I want to make a big impression with a breaking story. I feel like I’m on the scent of something.”
She was, and it was his obligation to stop her.
“Stop trying so hard. Take some time to get a feel for Heartlandia first. You’ll figure out some angle. It may not be a big splashy lead story, but you’ll find a way to capture your audience. Maybe even the heart of the town.” He could think of a few ways she’d already captured his attention, but he was starting to sound like a big boring town guardian and needed to back off.
She nodded infinitesimally. “You’re probably right. I try too hard.” For an instant she changed into a self-doubter, but before his eyes, she switched back to the overconfident woman from the first day he’d met her. “Well, thanks again for the ride. I’ll catch a cab to my car in the morning. See you around.”
All business. Any possibility of her kissing him again had been taken off the table, which probably meant there wouldn’t be an offer to come inside, either. Funny how he had to keep reminding himself it wasn’t going to happen.
Okay. He could deal with that. But she’d knocked him off balance enough to hesitate asking for her phone number, and he didn’t want to ruin the memory of that perfect kiss if she didn’t give her number to him. So, out of character, he let things lie and took a step toward the curb and his bike.
One thing he’d already learned—Lilly liked to be the leader.
Problem was so did he. But not today.
“Don’t be a stranger. I work right across the hall from you,” he said, doing his best to forget the mind-boggling kiss and sound nonchalant.
She nodded. “Okay. Good night. I had fun.” With that she headed for the entrance, waved goodbye and disappeared into the revolving door.
He started the bike and revved the engine. Forgetting his new resolve to quit playing the field, he’d wait for her to make the next move.
And if history repeated itself, the ladies always did.
Saturday afternoon Lilly had a long talk with herself. Evidently her ethics regarding getting the story at all costs were in the tank. She never wanted to be caught in such a vulnerable position as getting tipsy in a strange bar, or having to accept a ride home on a motorcycle with a man she barely knew, again. But good thing Gunnar had been there like she’d planned.
He was a law-enforcement officer and from what she’d observed, a well-respected guy. A guy making up for the sins of his father? Maybe. Most important, he was a gentleman.
The problem was she’d lost focus on her plans drinking those beers. She’d shared far too much with Gunnar about her personal life. Did he really need to know about what a disappointment she’d been to her parents? And, as far as she was concerned—and she was sure her mother would agree with her—she’d nearly made a fool out of herself telling him the Christmas doll story, then followed that up with getting a little tipsy. What must he think?
It wouldn’t happen again. Couldn’t.
But she had to admit, she’d
