She'd never heard anyone say her name like that, almost like it was a curse, but with a distinct sensual vibration beneath it.
Her heart jumped in response and she watched in horror as his eyes honed in on the pulse point at her neck. And then, as Elvis sang about how he couldn't help falling in love, she swore she could hear Connor's breathing speed up as he watched her body react to his close proximity.
She felt herself lean in toward him, saw him shift closer to her on the bar stool even as her fingers were itching to reach out, to touch him and see if he would feel as hot as he looked.
The menu she'd been holding smacked into the underside of the counter and snapped her out of the crazy spell just in time. Connor looked a little stunned too.
What had just happened to her? To both of them? Had they both become unwilling participants in some sort of mad scientist's chemistry experiment to combine Man A with Woman B to see how quickly they'd combust?
Annoyed by her ridiculous lack of self-control, Ginger slapped the menu down on the gleaming Formica counter harder and louder than she'd planned.
“Tonight's special is meat loaf and mashed potatoes. I'll give you a few minutes to look at the menu and decide what you want.”
But instead of looking at the menu he said, “I know exactly what I want.”
She knew he had to be talking about food, and yet the way he said it felt like-
“I didn't know you worked here. I'm glad you do. Now I don't have to wait until morning to see you again.”
Oh. Oh my. A half dozen ceiling fans kept the diner cool. She shouldn't be feeling so warm.
“I've been wanting to tell you that I was a complete jerk this afternoon.”
She could feel herself softening, melting down from her core outward. But then she looked at him and realized her reaction was probably exactly what he'd been expecting.
This afternoon she could have sworn he wanted to throw her bodily off the porch. He had to have an ulterior motive. A second later it hit her.
“I take it you spoke with your grandparents?”
“I did. But my grandmother isn't the only one who thinks I misbehaved. Earlier today you asked if we could start over. Any chance that offer still stands?”
Her body screamed Yes! at the exact same time that her brain shouted Don't you dare, he's playing you!
Frankly, she had a hell of lot more faith in her brain to steer her right.
He thought he could come in here smelling like fresh soap and pine needles and blink those shockingly blue eyes at her and get her to dumbly agree to whatever he wanted.
Like hell.
He might be saying all the right things, but she very much doubted his heart was in it. He wanted Poplar Cove.
Period.
She narrowed her eyes, widened her stance behind the counter. “Enough with the charm. Let's get down to it. What exactly do you want from me?”
“Poplar Cove hasn't been overhauled in two decades at least. Logs need to be replaced before they crumble. The roof is on the verge of blowing off. I need to get in there, do the work.”
She was glad that he'd finally dropped any pretense of trying to patch up their rough start. An honest discussion she could do. Not this smoldering, try-to-make-her-swoon stuff. Still, there was no way she was going to let him hang out in the cabin day in, day out, for weeks on end.
“The cabin has held this long,” she insisted. “I'm sure it'll make it another few months.”
“Ever use the stove? The microwave? A blow dryer?”
Knowing his questions had to be a trick, that with every word he said her perfect summer was disappearing day by day, hour by hour, she reluctantly said, “Of course, all of them.”
“The wiring is ancient. Anyone of those appliances could start a fire. You wouldn't know the house was burning at first. The sparks would start behind the walls. They wouldn't kick into overdrive until you were asleep. That's when smoke would start flooding into the room.”
He paused. Gave her plenty of time to color in the picture he'd just sketched.