Read Flirting With Disaster for Free Online Page B

enough to slap on questions if we sell
this thing online.”
    She shook her head. “It's for a good cause.
The numbers will be skewed.”
    He nodded. “One towards men and the other
towards women.”
    She thought about it for five seconds and
went with the first impulse. “Okay. I handle the car calendar, you
put together a bachelors of Tanner Creek calendar. Technically, we
are still working together and folks will think we're back to
arguing. Since people would think we're back at odds, that'll move
some calendars. Our fair small town loves train wrecks.”
    He gave her a blank stare. “We are
arguing.”
    She shrugged. “Beside the point.”
    “ It is the point.” There
was steel in his voice. “We're deciding to take on another mammoth
project to prove each other wrong.”
    “ Look at it this way, you
get to gloat if you're right. You won't have to go with me to look
at cars anymore. And you get the final say on your
project.”
    “ No. You get the final say
with the cars.” His brows rose, and he looked so damn haughty she
wanted to flick his forehead.
    “ Of course, I'm motivated
to make this work,” she said. “We've managed to be nice to each
other for a few days. A few weeks from now I'll want to strangle
you. This keeps me out of jail.”
    His jaw tightened, and the way he looked at
her made Brooke feel emotionally stripped. Dane asked, “What would
it take for you to get to know me and not make assumptions?”
    He was serious, and Peyton's words started
to ring in her head. Was she being too hard on him? Was he any
different than most people? How would Brooke feel if he suggested
the bachelor calendar just to get away from her? Offended, and then
infuriated.
    His question was asking for a way to judge
him, on her own terms, in hopes she'd see him differently. He was
being open and vulnerable in a way that made her throat feel
tight.
    She put down her sandwich. “Let me see your
hand.”
    He frowned. “And what will that do?”
    “ I made sure to wear gloves
all morning and I washed my hands before we left. Still, my hands
look like I work with them. They aren't the softest and would
likely never be. Too many healed over cuts and abrasions. I
think...” She hesitated, not able to meet his gaze. “I think my
hands say a lot about the woman I am. I gave up nail polish a long
time ago, but every now and again I put some on to feel pretty. So
let me see your hand.”
    He placed his laptop beside him on the bench
and then offered his hand with his palm up. Brooke lined up their
wrists. She'd known that his was larger than hers, but she didn't
know how that simple difference would kick her heart into
overdrive.
    It was cool outside but his hand was warm
and rougher than she'd imagined. He didn't come off as a man who
worked with his hands, ever, but maybe that came from working with
books.
    She flipped his hand over and found the
small nicks, likely from paper cuts. She traced a few with her
fingertip.
    “ Your nails look like you
get manicures,” she accused, but with a smile. “Not
surprising.”
    He flexed his hand. “I don't.” His voice was
tight and gruff.
    She swallowed. His deepened timbre did
something to her. From him...it was a warning, but she couldn't
stop touching him. They hadn't really touched before. And his skin
was so smooth outside of the roughened nicks…and somehow this
knowledge thrilled her. She didn't have a hand fetish, so the
sudden dampness in her panties made no sense. All she'd meant to do
was make a quick comparison. Not this.
    This had seemed innocent and maybe her intent had been a bit
dismissive—he'd be exactly the man she'd knew him to be, but she
couldn't ball her fist and stop. Touching him like this should have
turned awkward by now but his breathing had deepened. Her cheeks
had flushed, and she had the urge to squirm to ease the throb
between her legs. Didn't take long for her mind to jump to how his
hand would feel pressed against her breasts, or how those