Hot Pursuit - Denise A. Agnew [2]
“I still don’t remember.”
His grin widened. “I sat next to you in chemistry and we had English lit together.”
She frowned, embarrassed that she couldn’t remember him.
“I was short.” He tilted his head to the side. “Skinny. Ugly as sin. I hear I’m still ugly, but at least I took care of the short and skinny.”
Oh. Holy. God. Recognition slammed her at the same time as embarrassment. “You’re not Victor Moore? No way.”
“Way.” He grinned again. “People call me Vic now.”
Her heart thumped in her breast, bouncing around like a caged beast. “You’ve grown up.”
Duh. That was an understatement.
The breathless sound in her voice couldn’t be helped. She was more than pleasantly surprised by the way he’d filled out. The man had ripped and totally lip-smacking good attitude all over him. Some women liked pretty boys, but she didn’t. There was nothing pretty about Victor. He was one hundred percent prime male cut. Masculine. Rough. She felt it on a feral level she couldn’t control and hadn’t even known she possessed until this moment.
“Don’t worry about not recognizing me. No one does.” Once more his gaze traveled the length of her, and a heat wave followed. “You, on the other hand, are unforgettable.”
While there was nothing insulting about his perusal, the heat in his eyes couldn’t be missed. That no-holds-barred admiration set off a fire alarm of arousal low in her stomach. Never forget her? She’d been rounder with a waist-length tangle of black hair that wouldn’t cooperate no matter what she did.
“My hair was platinum for the last few years.” She shrugged, not sure why she was telling him this. “I let it go back to black.” She touched the ultra short strands that stuck out this way and that. “I’m so different from high school. I’m thinner, taller…”
“I like your hair black. Just as I remember it.” His eyes caressed her face, his voice going softer, lower. “You are thinner.” Concern clouded his eyes a moment. “You all right?”
Okay, how did she say this without seeming totally pitiful? “I’ve had a little stress and just didn’t eat enough. I’m stuffing myself lately to make up for it.”
A heart-breaker smile returned. “Good.”
Silence dropped between them for a moment before she finally said, “The boy I remember stuttered, tripped over things—”
“Was a total klutz. Yeah, I know.” His lopsided grin also sparkled in his eyes with genuine good humor. “Sometimes I still stutter. Depends on the situation. I’m more confident now.”
His eyes held an edge, as if he might remember what happened all those years ago.
“You’re remembering it too,” he said as heat returned to his gaze.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or not. “It was…awkward.”
He shrugged. “We were kids.” Once more his gaze danced over her, the appreciation intensifying. “We could try again. At midnight.”
Her face flamed, and she was mad at herself for reacting this way. After all, she’d come in here hoping to find a hook-up. But not with someone she knew, no matter how long ago. Doubt wore away at the stone-clad resolve she’d had walking into the place.
His gaze sobered. “Something wrong?”
“No. I’m just surprised to see you here.”
“No more surprised than me.” He glanced around the room. “Are you with someone?”
Damn his grin. It was going to eat her up and spit her out. Arousal burned low in her body. “I am now.”
“Would you like a drink?”
“Sure. I’m here to party.”
She headed to the bar with him and ordered a zinfandel.
“Let’s find a booth.” His matter-of-fact statement didn’t give her a chance to say no.
She trailed behind him through the crowd to the last booth available way in the back. She couldn’t help it. She checked out his butt. Yep. Just as she suspected. World class.
She ogled until they reached the booth. The sides were high on the round-shaped red leather booth, and the intimacy it implied sent her thoughts into overdrive. Despite the loud music, the booth muted the full blast of sound. She imagined possibilities she shouldn’t be thinking. She slid into the booth