Make Me Over_ Getting Real - Leslie Kelly [52]
Finally looking up, she saw a twinkle in his eye and knew he was referring to their very first conversation. That night in the library, when she’d wanted him to stop talking and just keep looking at her. All hungry and handsome and fascinating.
A reluctant smile curled her lips up. “No, I just find I get a little tired of watching every word I say because of the cameras.”
He followed her pointed stare, then frowned. “I have a feeling these tapes will be edited before they air on television.”
“They’d better be,” she said with a definite roll of her eyes. “Unless Mr. Mueller wants to pay a lot of fines to the TV government people. That Janet Jackson thing can’t hold a candle to the way Ginny’s been letting them fly the past two weeks.”
“Fortunately, I’ve missed most of those incidents.” His deep chuckle brought a warm sensation to Tori in spite of the chilly morning. Lordy she liked being with this man.
Teasing him, she said, “Most men wouldn’t mind so much.”
“I’m not most men, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed.” She met his dark-eyed stare. They looked at one another for an endless moment, saying a thousand things, each one of them answered. They relived last night, every second of it, all in a heavy silence that the camera crew could interpret any way they wanted.
It was torture, really. A morning-after in front of the whole bloody world. But as the moment lengthened, Tori almost began to enjoy it. She got a little shivery thrill, sharing this secret with him, the rest of the world be damned.
“So have you been doing anything interesting the past few days?” he asked, giving her a look of such innocence it nearly made her burst into laughter. That was likely what he’d intended, to playfully torment her, knowing she couldn’t respond.
She could play his game. “Oh, not what I’d call interesting, really.”
His brow shot up. “No? Nothing enlightening or exciting going on? I can’t imagine that.”
“It’s been terribly dull.”
“Dull?” He practically wore his offense on his face. The man was fun to tease, if only to give the naughty part of him more chances to come out and play.
“Shew, I’ve had more fun changing out a tranny in the pits than I’ve had around this place.” Giving an exaggerated yawn, she stretched her arms out to her sides, knowing the move was pulling her turtle-neck sweater even tighter against her body. He noticed. She saw him swallow visibly. But that was his only reaction.
“Well, I can imagine working on cars is exciting for you.” Then he lowered his voice. “But maybe not as exciting as racing. Being in the driver’s seat, in complete control.” An evil smile warned her one second before he added, “Handling the stick.”
Oooh, the wicked man. Her body shook, from top to bottom, at the mental pictures his words put in her head. Her tummy started rolling over, and heat dropped down to rest between her legs. She throbbed there, her corded slacks suddenly feeling too tight. Uncomfortable.
If only to get even, to make him sweat a little, too, she replied, “I’d say that depends on the stick. Some of them don’t have the right feel.” His eyes flared but he remained silent. “It has to be the perfect size, just thick enough to fit into my…” She licked her lips provocatively before concluding, “palm.”
Drew’s face reddened as he mentally substituted the word she wanted him to imagine. Mouth. How perfectly he’d fit into her mouth. She never could have imagined how much she’d like doing something so blatantly carnal and her whispered words told him so.
He drew in a deep breath. She watched his hand, resting lightly on the seat beside him, curl into a fist as his muscles visibly tensed. Oh, yes, she was definitely getting to him.
But he, apparently, wasn’t crying uncle just yet. “Hmm, I never thought about it that way. About it fitting into your…palm. Seems to me there should be other criteria for how well it works. Maybe making sure it has stamina. Staying power. And that it’s long enough.”
She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, almost groaning, almost laughing.