Honey Pie (Cupcake Club) - By Donna Kauffman Page 0,54

equipped to handle that part. “Doesn’t matter anyway, as it turns out.”

“What doesn’t matter?” she asked, sounding a little grumpy.

Perversely, that made his lips curve despite himself. “My opinion on your glasses shouldn’t, for one. But I was thinking maybe if those eyes of yours weren’t so magnified, they wouldn’t have such a strong impact on me every time I looked at them.” He waited until she lifted her gaze to his again. Yep. Thump, skip, thump. It was enough to make a grown man nervous. “Turns out, glasses or no glasses, it doesn’t matter.”

Her frown had faded as he’d spoken, and her mouth dropped open a little.

It had the unfortunate effect of drawing his attention there, and led to him noticing how her throat worked a bit as she tried to swallow.

Suddenly it seemed like the temperature inside the cab of the truck had gone up a few dozen degrees. And it wasn’t the heat of the sun doing it.

He leaned forward, feeling like that proverbial moth drawn to the flame, knowing damn well he was facing the same risk, but not caring much at the moment. He was going to get burned either way.

Her eyes widened. “Dylan—”

“Shh.”

She started to shrink back.

Mostly out of habit, he thought. Her eyes were telling him a different story. They were big and wide, allowing him to clearly see the desire as it punched into her pupils. He stopped her by lifting his hands and carefully sliding her glasses back on. “I’m not going to touch you, sugar.”

But he stayed in her personal space, looking into those magnified, unearthly, beautiful eyes. And let a slow, lazy smile curve his lips as the last of his self-directed anger and most of his frustration dissolved away . . . replaced by a different kind of frustration all together.

Oddly, he was having no problem feeling the urge to flirt and seduce. “Don’t let this go to your head,” he said, the grit still there in his voice, along with heat and drawl, “but I think those glasses are sort of sexy . . . in a hot-for-schoolmarm kind of way.”

Her eyes were big, her pupils wide, and he knew she was thinking about the kisses they’d shared, maybe wanting another one. Or two. He sure as hell did. So, it surprised him when she barked out a laugh at his comment.

“Well, that’s certainly a first,” she said dryly, but a most becoming blush rose to her cheeks.

One thing was for sure, he’d never have to worry about his ego getting too big around her. For some reason, that only served to deepen his smile. “Given you don’t spend a whole lot of time with anyone, that’s not sayin’ all that much.”

She smiled then, too. “Too true. Of course, maybe it’s because you happily spend most of your time with your head under the hood of a car that you could possibly find these attractive to begin with. Maybe we both need to get out more.”

Or stay in, he thought, and his mind went straight back to what it would be like to have her completely stripped bare, literally and figuratively. What would she be like as a lover? Would the tentative, self-conscious, worried side take over? Or would the part of her that didn’t give a rat’s ass dominate and allow her to take what she wanted, how she wanted?

Of course, all of that was pretty much moot, given the whole crazy vision thing. Talk about a mood killer.

He realized he was staring at her mouth again when she swallowed, hard, and wet her lips.

“Aw, sugar, don’t go temptin’—”

“I—” She had to clear her throat. “Trust me, I’m not trying to.” She tried for a laugh. “I mean, it’s not usually a problem I have. Oddly, men aren’t generally lining up to get in my personal space. You’re the only one who actually seems turned on by the Magoo glasses.”

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

She glanced up at him, her lips still twisted in a dry smile, but with a genuine twinkle of friendliness in her eyes. “And you’ve been sucking down too much car exhaust.”

He chuckled at that. She really was just the damndest thing. “You may have a point, but that doesn’t change things, here and now, does it.” He said it as more statement than question, but her gaze shifted away again, breaking eye contact completely.

“I . . . don’t know what I want, to be honest.” She kept her gaze in her