“I’m not looking for a relationship,” she admitted. “And now that I’m doing the flowers for that wedding, I won’t have much time to date anyway.”
“You can make time for one drink.” His green eyes glittered playfully. “I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”
“Do people still use that line?”
“Yup. So what do you say?”
Another smile tickled her lips. “I guess I can squeeze in one drink after work.”
His entire face lit up like a little kid’s on Christmas morning. “What time should I pick you up?”
For the first time in his life, Matt was actually nervous about a date. As he stepped out of the shower, dripping water all over the bathroom mat, he suddenly wondered if he should ask Annabelle to come downstairs so he could ask for clothing advice. Jeez. What the hell was wrong with him? He could seduce the panties off a nun, for f**k’s sake. Women freaking loved him. If he was the kind of guy who ticked off notches in his belt…well, he’d be on his tenth belt by now.
But Savannah made him feel like an anxious teenager again. It wasn’t just her looks that captivated him, though her smokin’ body did make his mouth water. She was just so…self-assured. She seemed to know exactly who she was, completely comfortable in her own skin, and her easygoing attitude and sharp wit were a total turn-on. He didn’t usually think beyond the first date, but with Savannah, he already wanted more, and they hadn’t even gone out yet.
Which was why he couldn’t have sex with her tonight. As much as he wanted to, as much as his body throbbed with arousal at the mere thought of her, he needed to force himself to keep his hands off her this evening. It was messed up, but he feared that if he slept with her so soon, this fascination would disappear, and he wasn’t ready for that to happen yet.
Another first—he wanted to get to know a woman before he screwed her.
God help him.
Deciding to forgo calling Annabelle—he wasn’t in the mood to be ridiculed—he strode into his bedroom and threw open the closet door. As he dressed, he marveled at the silence in the apartment. Ever since Ryan moved upstairs into Annabelle’s place, Matt was living solo. Made it easier to bring chicks back here without worrying about keeping Ryan up, though he didn’t do it often. He didn’t like having women over. They always wanted to stay when he only wanted them to leave.
Clad in a pair of jeans, a black T-shirt and an open blue button-down, he grabbed his keys from the basket on the hall table and left his second-floor apartment. He took the stairs two at a time, suddenly eager to get going and see Savannah again. The black Dodge four-by-four he’d just signed the lease on had decent speed, and he made it to Savannah’s shop in less than fifteen minutes. Shutting off the engine, he took a deep breath and hopped out of the SUV. There was a separate entrance to Savannah’s upstairs apartment, with a small intercom mounted on the wall. He buzzed, then waited until her chirpy voice said, “Come up.”
Uh-oh.
She wanted him to come upstairs?
That wasn’t part of the plan. He’d hoped to wait down here for her, then drive her to the classy bar he’d researched on the web. He was kinda scared to be alone with her. At least with other people around, he wouldn’t be able to rip her clothes off and devour her body the way he so desperately wanted to.
Gulping, he opened the door and climbed the narrow staircase up to the second floor. Savannah’s door was painted a bright yellow, and it swung open the moment he reached the landing. She appeared in the doorway, wearing a pair of tight black yoga pants and a loose red T-shirt that didn’t hide the fullness of the br**sts beneath it.
“Hey,” she said with an easy smile. “I figured we’d stay in, if that’s cool with you?”
Another gulp. Crap. Looked like he needed to conjure up some willpower. Pronto.
In a strained voice, he said, “Sure.”
Savannah gestured for him to come inside, and when he stepped into the apartment, he immediately saw her personality splashed all over the place. Mismatched furniture, some modern, some antique, filled the spacious living room. Colorful abstract paintings hung on the wall, with the occasional breathtaking landscape sandwiched between them. A small kitchen was tucked off to one side, and the living area was separated from the sleeping area with a see-through Japanese screen that featured bright pink cherry blossom trees. He caught a glimpse of a large futon with a bright magenta bedspread, but tore his gaze away. He couldn’t focus on the bed. Beds meant sex. And he was determined not to sleep with Savannah Harte until he figured out why he liked her so much.
“I like your place,” he said, turning to meet her silver-gray eyes.
“Thanks,” she said simply.
“Have you lived here long?”
“About eight years now.” She headed to the kitchen and pulled open the fridge, appearing a moment later with a six-pack in her hands. “I moved in when I bought the shop.”
They headed over to the plump brown sofa. Savannah flopped down, removed two beer bottles from the case and held one out to him. After a second of hesitation, he joined her on the couch and accepted the beer. At least three feet of space separated them, but it was still too damn close for comfort. Her sweet scent wafted over, surrounding him in a lust-crazed cloud. Of course, she smelled like flowers. Roses and lavender, with a hint of minty soap thrown in.
He unscrewed the cap of the bottle and took a long swallow of beer, hoping the cold liquid would ease the burn in his groin. But then Savannah reached up to untie her ponytail, letting her pale blonde hair fall loose, and the burn deepened. Fuck, he wanted to run his fingers through that silky hair, feel it tickling his pecs as she straddled his naked body, riding him…