Caged (Gold Hockey #11) - Elise Faber Page 0,15

ignore him.

She shot back fire.

Now, to get that date.

This time when she spun to face him, shock was written into every line of her face—from her jaw to her lips to a little furrow that he wanted to kiss that had appeared between her brows.

“You’re asking me if I’m attracted to you,” she said slowly.

He nodded. “Yup. That’s the crux of it.”

Laughter filled the air, dancing over his skin, freezing him in place, making him the one playing statue. That clear, hearty sound was fucking glorious, and he wanted to make her laugh again and again.

Of course, he’d prefer if she wasn’t laughing at him.

But he’d learned over the years to take his victories where he could.

And seeing that amusement in her eyes, hearing her delight, that was a fucking victory.

“You . . .” She bent at the waist, the book resting on her hip as she gasped out the laughing words. “Me . . . Attracted . . .” More hilarity.

Okay, as time went on, this was less joyful.

“Dani,” he warned.

She looked up. “You think I’m not attracted to you. To you,” she repeated. “To you!”

Yup, less joyful and more irritating.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he muttered. “I think I made myself clear, don’t you?”

“No.” She tossed up her hands, strode to her car again. “Nothing about this makes sense.” Her words came in a flurry. “You at the library. You asking me out. You thinking that you’re not the absolute most gorgeous man in all the universe, so freaking beautiful and sexy that I’ve fucking fantasized about you for years. I mean, your tattoos, your butt, your abs—”

She clamped a hand over her mouth.

Meanwhile, he was processing.

Processing.

Beautiful and sexy and gorgeous and . . . fantasized?

About him?

“Oh, my God,” she moaned, the words muffled through her hand. She dropped it. “Please, tell me I’m in a horrible dream, that I didn’t actually just say that out loud.”

He couldn’t bite back the smile. “Fortunately, for me, no, we’re not in a dream.”

She pinched herself on the arm. “Ouch!”

Ethan took a step toward her, wanting to grab her hand, to stop her from hurting herself again, but his arms were full of books. “What’d you do that for?” he muttered.

She moaned again, one hand coming to her forehead, the other still clenching the novel at her hip. “Not a dream. Not a dream. Oh God, not a dream.”

“Dani?”

Shaking her head, she whirled around and went directly to her car, yanked at the handle and started to climb inside.

He hotfooted it over to her, managing to slip into the opening before she could slam the door shut. The metal panel collided with his hip. “Didn’t you want your books?” he asked when she didn’t look at him, just slammed the door against his hip once more.

A sigh, her body going still.

Then she released the door.

He crouched. “I like your dress.”

“Books, please,” she said, twisting to hold out her arms, though her eyes were deliberately away from his.

Ethan separated his from the stack then handed hers over.

“Dani?” he asked again.

She spent an inordinate amount of time stacking them on her passenger’s seat.

He waited, had the feeling that he would wait for however long this woman needed. Of course, the alternative was that she run him over or barrel through the parking lot with her driver’s door open.

Though, he supposed, given the weight of the glare she tossed his way, neither of those options was out of the realm of possibility.

“You’re attracted to me?” He set his books on the roof of the car.

She groaned, plunked her head against the steering wheel. “Why?” she moaned, banging it enough times that he finally reached out and captured her shoulders. “Why, God,” she moaned, her eyes sliding closed, “are we still having this conversation?”

He held on to her. Waited.

She peeled back her eyelids, glared at him again. “Did the whole drooling over your abs and tattoo thing not clue you in?”

A smile tugged at his lips.

Another groan.

“What?” he asked, brows drawn together.

“That.” She waved a hand at his face.

“What?” he asked again.

“That,” she muttered. “That smile peeking out at me like it’s the best freaking gift I’ve received all day. It’s just a smile. I shouldn’t like a freaking smile so much.”

“But you do?”

Her eyes sparked, and she sighed heavily. “Do you have an ego problem or something? You need someone to constantly be building it up?”

A shrug. “Better than it being constantly pricked.”

She sighed again, then said, “Why are you tormenting me?”

“Because I have questions.”

Another glare. “Well,