Page 35 of The Best Man Problem
“Because…”
She stared at him like he was the slowest man on the planet. “Because people who don’t work out on paper rarely work out in the long term.”
What the hell kind of backward thinking was that?
“And you know this from your years of wedding planning?”
Her jaw tightened. “I know this from life.”
All right. There was a backstory there, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath for it. Getting this woman to open up was like solving the P versus NP problem.
“Then chemistry means nothing?” He didn’t want to push too hard, because he knew she’d walk away, but he did want to know what made this woman tick. Why she hid behind this wall of control.
“Chemistry is simply a case of lust that makes people lose sight of the big picture. It’s a momentary distraction that blinds people to the long term.”
Pretty cynical view, but he didn’t think she’d appreciate him pointing that out.
“Let me get this straight—you’re saying because I like camping and you like skiing, we shouldn’t explore this thing we got going?” Never before had he been so on edge waiting for the answer to a question.
Lilly shook her head, dark hair cascading around her shoulders with the movement. He remembered that hair, how soft it felt slipping through his fingers. The way it tickled his jaw, tiny filaments sticking in his scruff as her mouth devoured his. Momentary distraction, his ass. It was weeks later, and he was still thinking about it.
“That, among other issues. We might work for a night or two in bed.”
Yeah. They’d already proven that fact.
“But beyond that, I’m afraid we’re incompatible.”
He’d get to the other issues later—for now, he wanted to remind her of the ways in which they were very much compatible. Tugging her closer, he brushed his lips up the side of her jaw, grazing a barely-there kiss just under her ear as he whispered, “Not completely incompatible.”
He felt her shiver in his arms, her nipples tightening against the thin material of her dress, pressing into his chest through the silky shirt he wore. Her breath came out in rapid, tiny pants. A sound he remembered fondly from their night together. Ecstatic at the fact that she was just as affected as he was—no matter her valiant attempts to deny what was between them—he grinned.
“After all, we both like pinball.”
A laugh escaped her lips, and she nudged him with her shoulder. “Jerk.” But the word held no anger.
He pulled back to stare into her face again. She was smiling now, but there was a twinge of sadness to the expression.
“You kick ass at pinball, fixed my computer in ten minutes, dance like a dream, and make me laugh.” She sighed. “Can you please just have one flaw I can pinpoint to keep myself in check?”
He shrugged, in no way wanting to help her with this particular dilemma. “I snore?”
“No, you don’t.”
He grinned at catching her acknowledging their night together.
“I like eating cookies in bed.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Gross. Food belongs in the kitchen, not the bedroom. You’d get crumbs everywhere.”
“Not if you have a dog in bed to clean them up.”
“Double gross. Pets do not belong in bed. And anyway, I prefer cats.”
Dang, that little factoid was probably going on her ridiculous list, too.
“Okay, class, that ends our time together tonight,” the instructor called.
The music shut off, and all the couples on the dance floor stopped moving. Though he hated to do it, Lincoln stopped as well. The moment Lilly stepped out of his arms, they felt empty without her warmth, and he had no idea what to do with that.
