The Man Ban - Nicola Marsh Page 0,22
loved how Harper’s nose crinkled when she pondered. “I spend countless hours poring over food magazines, checking out presentation and camera angles and lighting. Does that count?”
“Absolutely. Doesn’t all that research make you hungry though?”
“Of course.” She gestured at her body with her free hand. “Have you seen my curves?”
“Oh yeah, and I’m eternally grateful for them.”
When she didn’t respond, he stopped beneath a streetlight and grabbed her free hand, tugging her lightly to face him. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I think you’re beautiful.”
She didn’t believe him.
He felt it in the subtle stiffening of her hands in his, in the tiny frown that appeared between her brows, in the slightest downturn of her mouth. It confused the hell out of him, because she was gorgeous.
And it was more than her big blue eyes or her long brown hair. She had the glow of a woman happy to do things her way. A woman who took charge of her life and didn’t allow others to dictate to her. He’d seen it before with some of the staff at the hospital, women who weren’t as pretty as Harper but were strikingly attractive because of their inner confidence.
It made him wonder, who had dented Harper’s confidence?
“You don’t believe me?”
Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “You’re a charmer. Stands to reason you’d say something like that when we’re out for a stroll on a balmy Auckland night.”
Her dismissiveness annoyed him. “I’m not used to saying things I don’t mean.”
She snorted. “Yes you are. You’re a practiced flirt, Manny, and a damn good one. It’s okay. I like a bit of romance like the next girl, so keep paying me compliments, but please don’t go all serious on me like you expect me to believe them.”
He released her hands and took a step back, because being this close to her didn’t help him think. He didn’t like being labeled insincere. Nor did he like the tiny voice inside his head whispering, why do you care?
He’d always been this way. The class clown. The joker. The flirt. The only time his sense of humor had deserted him was after his mom died, and he never wanted to return to that dark time when he’d lost a shitload of weight and buried himself in work and nothing else.
It had been Izzy who’d snapped him out of his funk six long months later. She’d had a transient ischemic attack, and he’d realized that her worrying about him could rob him of his last remaining family member. His gran had recovered from the TIA quickly, but it had been the wake-up call he’d needed, and he’d started making her laugh again.
Over time, he’d reverted to being the guy everyone wanted at a party, the guy women liked being around because he made them feel good about themselves. Being that guy was the best because it allowed him to do the one thing he’d vowed after his mom died: to never let anyone get too close again.
Izzy often asked why he’d never married, why he insisted on being so stubborn in forgoing any lasting relationships, and he’d fobbed her off repeatedly. How could he articulate to his grandmother that the guilt over his mom’s death still haunted him most nights when he lay in bed at the end of a long shift, ruminating on how he saved lives at the hospital but he couldn’t save his own mother.
“I’ve insulted you.” Harper laid a hand on his arm, and he allowed it to linger a moment, biting back the urge to tell her how badly he wanted her hands all over him, before shrugging her off. “Sorry.”
He wanted to say, No, you’re not, but being churlish wouldn’t get this night back on track, and the last thing he needed with this woman staring at him with concern was to potentially blurt out why her offhand comment had stung so badly.
“Want to head down to the waterfront? I hear they’ve got some great cafés down there, and we could get a coffee?”
Thankfully, she bought his deflection. “Sounds good.”
“Will you slug me if I take hold of your hand again?”
She tilted her chin up, a smile playing about her mouth. “Why don’t you try it and find out?”
He slid his hand into hers, feigning a duck that made her laugh. “Come on, slugger, let’s go get that coffee.”
They strolled in companionable silence, along streets filled with restaurants and boutiques. He’d flipped through a brochure in his hotel room on the first day