Matchmaking by Moonlight. Teresa Hill

wasn’t a patient, a student or even a friend. An acquaintance at best.

      “Is it really so bad?” she asked him.

      He growled, looking even more irritated with her. “Okay, just tell me. Is this some kind of come-on? Are you trying to start something?”

      “No,” she said, honestly surprised and puzzled at that. “I don’t think so.”

      “You don’t think so?” he repeated. “I don’t know if I can be any clearer about the question. Are you trying to let me know you’re interested in me and to find out if I’m interested in you? Because, if that’s what it is, just say so. It might be … interesting.”

      “Interesting?” She wasn’t sure at all how to take that. Strange? Amusing? Distracting? What?

      “No, I’m certain it would be interesting,” he decided. “I’m just not sure it would be wise—”

      “Fine,” she said. So it would not be smart to have anything like that to do with her? Gosh, he might have some fun. However would he handle that? “I’m fairly certain it’s not a come-on—”

      “Fairly certain?” he repeated again.

      “I…I …I had to think about it,” she said, practically tripping over her own words with nerves and maybe a hint of excitement, even anticipation. Damn. “I might have to think about it a little more before I’m absolutely sure. But you put me on the spot, and I did my best to give you an answer. I’m fairly certain I’m not coming on to you or trying to start something with you because … Well, just because … You’re really not my type … anymore.”

      “Fine,” he said, as if it wasn’t fine at all. And then he leaned in closely enough that, for a moment, his mouth was only a breath away from hers, and said, “Let me make myself absolutely clear. I’m not a toy. Stop playing with me.”

      “Well, if you insist,” she said, feeling something she could only label as regret. Over no longer playing with the judge? She looked him up and down, taking in the near scowl on his handsome, tanned face, the beautifully put together body, the sense of leashed power that seemed embedded in him at all times.

      Maybe she had been coming on to him, like an unconscious reflex or something … Some need to try out her newfound freedom or just … feel like a woman again.

      “See, right there,” he said, not backing up an inch. “You’re doing it again. Teasing, trying to provoke me.”

      “No, I’m not. If I was truly trying to provoke you, I’d tell you that the little old ladies who live here spent their afternoon teatime telling me that someone needed to loosen you up—”

      He groaned.

      “And I’m pretty sure they think the person to do that should be me, though I have no idea why. Maybe they think it would be amusing to watch me toy with you—”

      “Lilah, I swear, if you don’t—”

      “And if I really wanted to mess with your head a little bit, I’d tell you that Gladdy spent the afternoon telling me about the … frustrations of dating a man of a certain age—”

      “What could that possibly have to do with me?” he asked.

      “That they have certain … performance issues …”

      He looked both angry and a little bit horrified.

      “You’re telling me that you and an eighty-something-year-old woman have been speculating about what I can or can not do all on my own in the bedroom?”

      “Not me,” she insisted. “Gladdy. It was all her.”

      “Unbelievable,” he said, still right up in her face, so angry, so very handsome.

      He was breathing hard, his breath warm with a hint of mint as it fanned over her face, her mouth. His body was also so warm, and it had been so long since she’d been this close to a man, one she truly found attractive, even if he was maddening.

      Part of her just wanted to cuddle up against him and enjoy all the warmth, the strength and solid bulk of a man. She was swaying toward him, she feared, and maybe … just maybe, he was swaying toward her, as if there was some kind of invisible force field between them, drawing them together.

      She wasn’t sure if he was the one who moved closer or if she was, but she caught her breath at the contact, at how deliciously sexual it felt and how much she found herself wanting him in that moment.

      He felt it, too.

      She knew he did.

      No hiding from it.

      He either got a little turned on, arguing with a woman, or he wanted her … Okay, more than a little bit turned on, from that momentary brush of his body against hers.

      Because he was most definitely aroused.

      Gladdy was right, no pharmaceutical help necessary.

      Lilah had been staring at the pattern of his tie, avoiding his gaze at all cost, but she finally gave in and looked him in the eye.

      “Well, now you know. Satisfied?” he growled at her as he eased away.

      No, not nearly.

      But for once, she managed to hold her tongue, as he turned and walked away.