the counter and folded her arms, studying him while he paced. His jaw tensed, broad chest lifting and lowering beneath a faded Giants T-Shirt. He looked … weary? No, weary wasn’t the right word. Tired, maybe—as if he hadn’t slept much lately. Not that she cared about that either, but since Liv asked how he looked, apparently she felt the need to study him more closely than usual and once she’d gotten started …
Okay, so if injected with a truth serum she supposed she would admit there were understandable reasons women tended to trip over their feet when he smiled. Vivid blue eyes, shortly cropped dark blond hair, the hint of shadow on his strong jaw … Add them to the ease with which his long, lean, muscular frame covered the ground and there wasn’t a single gal in Manhattan who wouldn’t volunteer their phone number.
Not that they’d hold his interest for long.
‘Well, you can stop. I’m fine. Don’t you have a wedding to plan? Said I would, didn’t I?’ His gaze slid across the room. ‘She’ll call you back.’
Before he hung up, Jo was across the apartment and had swung the door open with a smile. But instead of his taking the hint, a large hand closed it, his palm flattening on the wood by her head. His body loomed over hers. If they’d been outside he would have blocked out the sun.
‘We obviously need to talk,’ he said flatly.
No, they didn’t. Jo gritted her teeth together, rapidly losing what was left of her patience. She was contemplating grinding a stiletto heel into one of his boots when he took a short breath and added, ‘Butting your pretty little nose into other people’s business might be okay with other folks. It’s not with me.’
‘Try answering your phone and I won’t have to.’ She arched a brow. ‘Is the fact your family might think you have a death wish so very difficult for you to grasp?’
‘I don’t have a death wish.’
‘Unhooking your harness is standard procedure, is it?’
‘Go stand on the chair.’
She faltered. ‘What?’
‘You heard me.’
When she didn’t move, he circled her wrist with a thumb and forefinger. The jolt of heat that travelled swiftly up her arm made her drop her chin and frown as he led her across the room. Now he was touching her? He never touched her. If anything it had always felt as if there were a quarantine zone around her.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she asked.
‘Staging a demonstration …’
Her eyes widened when he released her wrist, set his hands on her waist and hoisted her onto an overstuffed chair. ‘Where do you get off—? Don’t stand on my furniture!’
Feet spread shoulder-width apart on the deep cushions of the sofa, he tested the springs with a couple of small bounces before jerking his chin at her. ‘Jump.’
‘What?’
‘Jump.’
That was it, she’d had enough. She wasn’t the remotest bit interested in playing games. What was he—five?
But when she attempted to get down off the chair, a long arm snapped around her waist and she was launched into mid-air. The next thing she knew, she was slammed into what felt like a wall of heat, a sharp gasp hauled through her parted lips. She jerked her chin up and stared into his eyes, the tips of their noses almost touching. What. The. Hell?
‘You see …’ he said in a mesmerizing rumble ‘… it’s all about balance …’
Surreally, his intense gaze examined her face in a way that suggested he’d never looked at her before. But what was more disconcerting was how it felt as if there weren’t anywhere they weren’t touching. The sensation of her breasts crushed against his chest made it difficult to breathe, the contact sending an erotic jolt through her abdomen. How could she be attracted to him when she disliked him so much?
When she was lowered—unbearably slowly—along the length of his large body, Jo had no choice but to grasp wide shoulders until her feet hit the cushions. She swayed as she let go. For a moment she even felt light-headed.
‘I knew what I was doing.’ Stepping down, he lifted her onto the floor as if she weighed nothing.
Taking an immediate step back, Jo dropped her arms to her sides. Her gaze lowered to his chest. She should be angry, ticked off beyond belief he had the gall to touch her and—worse still—have an effect on her body. She liked her world right-side-up, thank you very much, and if he knew what he had done to her …
Folding her arms over heavy breasts, she lifted her chin again. ‘The giant footprints you’ve left on my sofa make us even for the half-dozen glasses.’
‘If you’ve got nothing better to do with your time than talk about me to my family, try taking up a hobby.’
A small cough of disbelief left her lips. ‘I have plenty of things to fill my time.’
‘Dating obviously isn’t one of them,’ he said dryly.
‘Meaning what, exactly?’
‘Meaning I may have forgotten why it is you’ve stayed single for so long, but after an hour it’s starting to come back to me.’ He folded his arms in a mirror of her stance. ‘Ever consider being nice from time to time might improve the odds of getting laid?’
‘Since when has my sex life been remotely in the region of any of your business?’
‘If I had to guess, I’d say around about the same time my relationship with my family became yours.’
Reaching for the kind of strength that had gotten her through worse things than an argument in the past, Jo smiled sweetly. ‘Try not to let the door hit your ass on the way out.’
‘That’s the best you’ve got?’ he asked with a lift of his brows. ‘You’re obviously out of practice.’ He nodded firmly. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll soon get you combat-ready again.’
Jo sighed heavily and headed for the door. She didn’t look at him as he crossed the room. But for some completely unknown reason, just before he left, she heard herself ask, ‘Don’t you ever get tired of this?’
Where had that come from?
Daniel stopped, turned his head and studied her with an intense gaze. ‘Quitting on me, babe?’
She frowned when the softly spoken question did something weird to her chest. ‘Don’t call me babe.’
When he didn’t move, the air seemed to thicken in the space between them. Stupid hormones —even if she was in the market for a relationship he was the last man—
‘You want to negotiate a truce?’
She didn’t know what had possessed her to ask the question in the first place and now he was asking if she wanted them to be friends? She stifled a burst of laughter. ‘Did I give the impression I was waving a white flag? I’m talking about you, not
