some so he could turn to face her. “Are you ready to take off, or do you want to hang out a little more? You think we’ve done enough?”
She searched his face quickly, satisfying herself that he wasn’t trying to get away from her in his always courteous way. “Let’s stay a little longer. It’s still kind of early. If this is going to work, then we have to be convincing.”
“Okay.” He set down his empty coffee cup on a side table and then relaxed back against the cushions of the love seat. He reached over to pick up her hand and held it, gently stroking her palm with his fingers.
It felt good. Ridiculously good. A little throbbing awoke between her legs, and she felt her cheeks flushing.
Maybe he saw her reaction. Or sensed it. Because he asked very softly, “Is this okay? Should I have asked first?”
“It’s fine.” She moved closer so they could talk without the risk of anyone overhearing. “You don’t have to ask my permission to hold my hand.”
“Okay.” His brown eyes never left her face. It was so unnerving. The way he always seemed to search for what she was thinking, how she was feeling inside. She wasn’t used to that from men. From anyone. “Just checking. Just tell me if you feel weird about anything. I know we don’t know each other very well, and we’ve trapped ourselves in this artificial closeness.”
“Yeah, but I feel like I know you better than I did.” She smiled, studiously ignoring the tingles of pleasure his touch was still generating. She rubbed his thigh in a flirtatious manner but didn’t let the touch linger. “And you’re not the worst person to get close to, if you want to know the truth.”
His smile was surprised, authentic. “Yeah?”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “How is it you manage to come across as so unassuming when you have to know you’re the romantic hero for half the Green Valley daydreams?”
He chuckled. “Let’s not exaggerate.”
“I’m not exaggerating. I’m telling you it’s true. Even I, who am mostly immune to your charms, had more than one choice daydream about you back in high school.”
“Yeah?” He straightened up, leaning toward her slightly like he really wanted to hear this.
“Yes. I told you that before.”
“Sure, but I figured you were just saying it. I thought you were into Lincoln.”
“I was. I mean, just from a distance. He’s hot, and I was always into bad boys. But that didn’t mean I didn’t have silly fantasies about you too.”
“Fantasies?” The rough texture to his voice made her shiver.
“Not those kinds of fantasies.” She pulled her hand away from his since his touch was clearly interfering with the clarity of her thinking. “Romantic fantasies. About you rescuing me from bad guys and falling helplessly in love. Bringing me flowers and jewelry and breaking into song to express your great love for me.”
He burst into warm laughter. It felt like a victory. “You’re kidding.”
His appreciation of her humor was going right to her head. She was warm and flushed and happy as she scooted a little closer to him, snuggling up at his side. “I’m not kidding. I was a silly teenager. My daydreams matched my maturity level. But they were just daydreams. Nothing serious. I mean, I didn’t know you at all, and you had no idea who I was.”
“And I’m not really your type.” Carter said the words with a matter-of-fact complacency that made it clear he wasn’t hurt by this assessment.
“No. Not really. Which is the only way our plan can work. Neither of us can be wanting something more than helping each other out.”
He gave a brief nod. “Right. Got it.” He paused and asked in a different tone, “So do you always go for the bad boys then?”
Ruth shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve always leaned in that direction. Not that any of them have ever worked out for me.”
“Why not?”
“Why not? What kind of question is that?”
“It’s a real question. Why shouldn’t it be?”
She’d never met another mature man who could come across as so sincere while still being sharp and intelligent. She had no idea how Carter managed it. “Because how is a person supposed to know why her attempts at romantic relationships don’t work out?”
“Some people know.”
“Do you?”
“No. I really don’t.”
“Me either,” she admitted. “I mean, I think I’m basically a nice, smart, relatively attractive person. But I think I mentioned this before. The guys I really like