“At the speed limit,” she agreed. “It’s time to tell me about Corrine.”

“Oh, well, there’s really nothing to tell.”

She saw it, just a flicker of it in his eyes. “She hurt you. I’m sorry. I’m insensitive and pushy.”

“No, you’re not. And I keep expecting you to be.”

She smiled. “Look how cute you are in your smarty-pants. Now why don’t you order dessert, so I can pretend to be self-righteous and not—then eat half of yours?”

They lingered. She’d forgotten what it was like to have a meal with a man she could have long, twisty conversation with. One who listened, who paid attention—whether or not he was thinking about the possible bonus round at the end of the evening.

He made her think, she realized. And entertained her. And damn it, the man was charming, in such a low-key, unstudied way.

Plus, when he’d put his glasses on to read the menu, it just set her juices on simmer.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” he asked her when they walked back to the car. “It’s probably too late for a movie. A club?”

“I clubbed out with the pals the other night.” Another time though, she thought. It occurred to her she might’ve been very wrong in assuming Carter Maguire wouldn’t fit in the club scene. “I should get back. I’ve put in a few long ones this week, and I have work to catch up on tomorrow.”

He opened her door. “Are you going to see me again?”

It gave her a little jump in the belly that he’d ask, and just that way. Giving her the power, she thought. Terrifying. “I’m thinking about it.”

“Okay.”

When he’d joined her, started the car, she angled toward him. “Top five reasons you want to see me again.”

“Do they have to be in order of priority?”

Damn it, damn it, she really liked him. “No. Just quick, top of your head answers.”

“Okay. I like the way you talk. I like the way you look. I want to know more about you. I want to sleep with you. And when I’m with you, I feel.”

“Feel what?”

“Just feel.”

“Those are good answers,” she said after a moment. “Really good answers.”

“Are you going to give me your five?”

“I’m still working on them. But in the interest of full disclosure, you should know I’m good on a date, but tend to grade lower on relationships.”

“I don’t see that. How can you when you’ve had lifelong relationships with your three friends? Layers of relationships with them.”

“I don’t have sex with them.”

“That’s an interesting disclaimer, but intimacy’s only a part of relationships that go beyond friendship. It doesn’t define them.”

“Come on, Carter, sex is a whopper. Not to mention the work and effort that goes into maintaining a relationship that includes it. But just to focus on sex for a minute.”

“I’m not sure that’s smart when I’m driving.”

“What if we hit that level, and it’s a bust? What then?”

“Well, I’d first apply the basic rule. Most things improve with practice. I’d be willing to practice quite a bit.”

“Cute. But if it isn’t a bust, that’s when things start getting complicated.”

He glanced at her. “Do you always borrow trouble?”

“Yes, in this area, I do. I haven’t stayed friendly with any of my exes. I don’t mean it’s all ‘I hate his guts and wish he’d die a lingering death, or at least be doomed to selling toaster ovens for all eternity.’ But after it’s done, we just stop connecting. And I like you.”

He drove for a while in silence. “Let me sum up. You like me, and feel if we have sex and it’s not good, we won’t like each other. If it is good, we’ll complicate things and end up not liking each other.”

“It sounds stupid when you say it.”

“Food for thought.”

She muffled a snort of laughter. “You’re a smart-ass, Carter. You’re subtle and sneaky about it, but you’re a smart-ass. I like that, too.”

“I like that you’re not particularly subtle about it. So I guess this relationship is doomed.”

She slid him a damning glance, but her lips twitched. When he parked in front of her studio, he smiled at her. “You keep my mind engaged, Mackensie. When I’m with you, and when I’m not.”

He got out of the car, walked her to the door. “If I called you tomorrow, would that be pushy?”

“No.” She kept her eyes on his as she reached in her bag for her keys. “I’m thinking about asking you in.”

“But—”

“Hey. I’m supposed to be the one who says but.”

“And you’re free to expand on that. But it’s not a good idea. Yet. Because when, if,” he corrected, “we go to bed, it shouldn’t be to prove a point or answer a question. I think it just has to be because we want each other.”

“You’re a rational man, Carter. I think you’d better kiss me good night.”

He leaned in, and he framed her face with his hands. Long fingers, she thought, cool against her skin. Eyes soft in color, intense in expression holding hers. A moment, another, so that her heart already raced before his lips brushed hers.

Gentle, easy, so that her racing heart sighed.

As her skin, her blood warmed, he drew her closer and deepened, deepened the kiss, a whisper at a time until everything blurred.

She went pliant, and the long, low sigh she made was surrender. He wanted to touch her, to feel those lovely br**sts in his hands, to stroke his fingers down the length of her back, to know the thrill of having her legs locked around him.

He wanted more than a rational man could.

He stepped back, contenting himself with a brush of his thumb over her bottom lip.

“This could be a mistake,” she said. Letting herself in, quickly, she leaned back against the door. And she wondered if the mistake was not asking him in, or knowing that she would before much longer.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MAC PUT IN A SOLID FOUR HOURS WITH THUMBNAILS, Photoshop, prints. The work kept her focused and level. There could be no mind-wandering journeys about sexy English teachers when she had clients expecting—and deserving—her best.