The Things She Says. Kat Cantrell

into.

      “It’ll be our secret,” he whispered and snapped his attention back to the road as he obscured his eyes with the sunglasses again.

      Her heart beat so fast, she was shocked it wasn’t audible. She stared at his profile. What had just happened? It had been A Charged Moment. Thrilling—for her, at least. But what did it mean?

      She might be from Nowheresville but she could follow instructions. “Instead of assuming again, I’m going to ask. Why does it seem like you’re flirting with me sometimes?”

      “I am.”

      “Why?” Additional words, phrases, ideas escaped her. In fact, it had been a surprise her tongue worked at all.

      “Why not?” He lifted a shoulder. “I like you. You’re fun. Beautiful.”

      He thought she was beautiful? The jumpy crickets stampeded through her stomach.

      Stuff like this didn’t happen to her. Oh, she’d had her share of boyfriends—small-town, small-minded boys who wouldn’t know romance if it bit them in their unimaginative butts.

      The difference between them and this enthralling, charming man beside her was the difference between Ford and Ferrari.

      But he wasn’t finished. “What does it hurt? It’s harmless and has zero calories. Besides, you’re flirting back.”

      Harmless. Nothing more than sport for the beautiful people. Yes, Kristian Demetrious was exactly like his car. Smooth, exotic and his engine was equally unfathomable.

      The crickets died a quick death. “Of course I’m flirting back. You’re driving. I’d hate to be dumped on the side of the road.”

      He paused for a beat and didn’t laugh. “Women don’t flirt with me. They slip me room keys and follow me into the bathroom. Flirting with you is the polar opposite of that. I enjoy it. There aren’t any expectations. It’s safe.”

      Now she was safe. How appealing.

      She needed to throw it in reverse, distance herself, or eventually he’d drive right over her heart, flattening it like an unfortunate armadillo too transfixed by the bright lights of the freeway to see the splat coming. “Tell me about Kyla. Where did you meet her?”

      He glowered, tightening the lines of his cheeks and mouth, and the expression looked wrong on him. “I don’t want to talk about Kyla.”

      The reference to his glamorous soon-to-be fiancée was like a shock of icy water. The atmosphere in the car cooled and grew icicles. Fantastic. Exactly as she’d intended. Now she wasn’t thinking about that seething, charged moment. Or the sparkling weight of his arm against hers.

      “Well, I don’t want to talk about Kyla, either. Tell me about your next movie.” That should be an innocuous enough subject, and she’d been dying to revisit it after seeing his entire demeanor transform upon mentioning it at Pearl’s.

      “I’d rather not talk for a while.”

      She flinched at the bite in his tone. “Sure. No problem.”

      The less they talked, the better, because then his beyond-sexy accent wouldn’t skim down her spine and take up residence inside, heating every pore of her skin as if she’d crawled into the sun.

      They barely knew each other. They were strangers soon to part ways and only thrown together because she lacked the fortitude to leave Little Crooked Creek on her own. What else could they possibly be to each other?

      Road signs for Van Horn flashed by twice before Kris sighed. “Sorry. I can be a jerk.”

      She waved dismissively. “Don’t apologize for not wanting me to pry into your life. I’m sure people do that all the time, and you’d like to keep some things private.”

      “That’s true, but it’s not the reason I’m a jerk. It’s complicated.”

      “Complicated is my specialty.”

      He grinned and shot her another of those enigmatic glances over the top of his sunglasses. “Have I mentioned how much I like you?”

      “Yes, but you should definitely tell me again.” Maybe she was getting better at the sport of flirting. The trick was not to let on how that kind of statement thrummed straight to the place between her thighs.

      He bit his lip, contemplating. She had to avert her eyes from the sight of his white teeth sinking into flesh.

      “The problem is,” he said, “Kyla’s starring in my next film, Visions of Black. I guess I’m kind of touchy about it because of the unconventional demands around the financing. Without the right backing, the project’s dead. The downside of not being affiliated with a studio.”

      “Contract negotiations are shaky. I get it. Is it worth whatever your investor is demanding?”

      He froze, and her hand flew to his arm before she’d realized it. She wanted to comfort him but had no idea why.

      She did know one thing—Kris wasn’t and never would be a stranger. There was something between them. A recognition. A mystical draw she couldn’t ignore or pretend to have imagined.

      “Is it worth it?” He exhaled and nodded slowly. “To have a chance to direct this film, which will solidify my career and put me on the A-list? Yes, it is. I’ve been busting my back for years to get this shot.”

      The raw longing and aspiration carved into his expression hit her in a wave way hotter than the music. She swallowed, hard. Her fantasy imploded and shrank down to one crystalline shard of desire—that he’d look at her like that. She tucked it away before it grew too sharp.

      “That’s a lot of mileage for one film.” No doubt he’d be successful, as soon as his investor was happy. “Out of curiosity, what is he asking you to do?”

      A tiny muscle in his forehead jumped. “Announce that Kyla and I are engaged.”