The Matchmaker's Playbook

Page 44

“What? You just said ‘great.’” She turned around, her eyes lowered to where mine were still fastened.

“No.” I pointed at the offensive flip-flops. “If you want David, you have to give these to the Goodwill, or better yet, burn them, or”—I paused and added a small smile so she wouldn’t be too offended—“leave them on your doorstep so I can steal them and stash them under my pillow. We’d always have the flip-flops.”

I was turning into a lunatic.

Another reason she needed to get with David sooner rather than later. If I kept this up, I was going to grow ovaries and ask the clerk at Walmart where the tampon aisle was.

“I’m wearing them.”

“No.” I crossed my arms to match her stance. “You aren’t.”

“Make me take them off.”

“You don’t think I can?” We were chest to chest. I could smell her vanilla ChapStick. Her wavy golden-brown hair spilled over her shoulders.

The room was so tense I was surprised I could even breathe.

“Ian.” She purred my name, and I was done for, seriously done for. Damn woman. “Please?”

“Stop that.” I pointed at her eyes. “Stop batting your eyelashes. I’m immune!”

She kept batting them, her smile growing wider and wider, making her look more adorable than sexy. Which was a hell of a lot worse, because sexy you slept with, adorable you kept.

Forever.

I needed to look away. “Damn it.” I rolled my eyes, breaking contact. “Whatever. Just remember, I warned you.”

“Thanks.” She slapped my ass just like I had done to her a few minutes ago. It tingled. It tingled hard. It tingled good.

With a groan, I followed her peppy steps to the door and mentally moved up the timeline. She wanted David?

She was going to get him.

By this weekend.

My heart did a little skip.

I brushed it off as heartburn and rushed her to my waiting SUV, my eyes lingering on her ass the entire way.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“You know”—I smirked—“this isn’t a sting. You can take your sunglasses off. Plus we’re inside, so it kinda makes you look like a loser. Just saying.”

Blake elbowed me hard in the ribs and kept her sunglasses on, lifting her chin high into the air. “But you said not to make eye contact, and that’s really difficult for me. Thus the sunglasses.”

“Dude, just look at his crotch.”

“His crotch?”

“Yeah, he’ll eat that shit right up.”

Blake burned bright red. “I’m not looking at his crotch!”

A girl hurried by us, nearly knocking over brochures for the business program.

Blake covered her face with her hands. “Please tell me I didn’t just say ‘crotch’ that loud, twice.”

“Say it one more time. I promise it will be worth it.”

She lowered her hands and glared. “Any other pointers that don’t involve me staring at his—” She motioned in the air with her hands and coughed.

“His . . . ?” I cupped my ear.

Blake licked her lips, her cheeks still stained red as she said under her breath, “Groin.”

I kept my laugh in, just barely. “I think you can do better than that, Miss Nursing Major. I have an idea, let’s play Name the Parts!”

“No,” Blake hissed. “We aren’t naming body parts in the hallway while waiting for David to just stroll by! What if he walks by when I say—?”

“Penis?”

Her hand slammed over my mouth. “Shh!”

I peeled her fingers away one by one. Strong grip—good to know. “If you can’t say it, you probably shouldn’t be playing with it, you know?”

Eyes wide, she gasped. “I’m not playing with anyone’s”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“penis.”

“Isn’t that a shame?” I sighed. “Hey, I’ve got one you can practice with.”

“My face probably can’t get any redder than it is right now, can it?”

“I don’t know. Should we try?”

“Ian, I swear if you say one more word . . .” Her finger wagged at my face. It was cute, getting her all embarrassed. Almost like foreplay, only more fun, because she was so innocent.

“Penis.” I said it again. “Just say it.”

“No!”

“Tits.”

“Oh hell,” she muttered under her breath, then started marching away. I gripped her by the elbow and tugged her back against me.

“Come on, Blake. Eventually, you’ll have to get past the point where you aren’t afraid of your own sexuality. And something tells me that David’s not going to be supergreat in bed, so you need to at least gain some confidence so you can tell him what you want.”

“What?” Blake turned, hands on hips. “What makes you think he’d be bad? I mean, I’m a virgin.”

“Yup.”

She threw her hands into the air. “So . . . I’ll suck.”

“Not possible.” I eyed her up and down. Not freaking possible. “Believe me. I know this shit. As for David? The last girlfriend who was interviewed stated that although he earned an A for effort, on more than one occasion she studied for a test during. You know? A test during.”

“During?”

“Sex.”

“How?”

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