Make Me Over_ Getting Real - Leslie Kelly [8]
He stared at her for a long moment, asking a million questions. Who she was. Where she was from.
Exactly how long she needed to know a man before she’d allow him to take her to bed.
Shaking off his momentary lapse into insanity—not to mention bad manners—he focused on the book. “Tom Sawyer.” Clearing his throat, he added, “That’s a good one.”
She simply nodded.
Finally, crossing his arms, he peered down at her curiously. “Are you unable to speak?”
This time he got a shake of the head in response.
He had to chuckle. “Was that a no, you’re not unable to speak? Or a no you can’t speak?”
“I can,” she whispered.
“Then why aren’t you?”
She blew out an impatient breath and rolled her eyes. “Because I was hopin’ if I kept quiet, you’d shut up, too, and get back to lookin’ at me the way you was a minute ago.”
Eyes growing wide, Drew just stared at her for a moment. The young woman was practically glaring at him, so her heavily twanged words didn’t quite sink in. “Excuse me?”
“I said…”
“I heard you.”
“So why’d you ’scuse yourself?” Then she nibbled her lip. “Oh, did you, uh, make a noise or somethin’?”
Startled into a laugh, Drew shook his head. “I’m sorry, maybe we should start this conversation again. Okay?”
“I guess.”
“Hello,” Drew said, extending his hand to shake hers. “I’m Drew Bennett.”
She stared at his hand for a moment. Finally she extended her own, grasping his so hard he felt like he was meeting a linebacker. “Tori Lyons.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Tori.”
“Likewise.”
“Now,” Drew said, getting back to her original comment, “why did you want me to shut up?”
She visibly swallowed, then slipped her tongue out to moisten her pretty pink lips. An uncalculated move, it still hit him hard, somewhere down low, bringing forth a reaction that had everything to do with instinct and nothing to do with intellect.
“You was starin’,” she finally replied, her voice husky.
“Yes.”
She hesitated, then tilted her head back in challenge. “I kinda liked it.”
“You liked me staring at you?”
“The way you was starin’.”
“Were staring,” he couldn’t help murmuring. “Why?”
She raised one brow, giving him a look that dared him to deny he’d been looking at her with a great deal of visceral appreciation. He wouldn’t deny any such thing. He just wanted to know why she’d…liked it.
“You was lookin’ at me like you was a hound dog and me a rare, juicy steak.”
Being compared to a hound dog amused him. Considering his primitive response to her, he probably deserved the comparison. “Perhaps I was. I beg your pardon.”
“For what? You make another noise?”
“No, I beg your pardon for staring.”
“I toldja I liked it. Kinda took me by surprise, because usually when a man stares at me like that, I wanna black his eye.”
Considering the top of her head barely reached his chin, he questioned whether she’d be able to reach his eye. But he didn’t want to tempt fate by asking her. “Well, you’re correct. I was staring. My apologies. Your appearance here took me by surprise.” Seeing she wouldn’t buy that simple of an explanation, he admitted, “And you’re very pretty.”
“Thankee,” she said with a tiny smile and a tinier nod. “So’re you.”
“So are,” he murmured, even as he smiled inwardly at being called pretty.
“So are what?”
He realized he’d once again corrected her, not even realizing he was doing it. The teacher in him was easing in on this conversation, taking over for the hound dog. Not surprising, probably. Judging by her speech, she was, indeed, a contestant on this reality show. Meaning, his pupil.
He nearly groaned at the realization. Because this was not a woman he could pursue, by any means. So far, he’d gone through his entire professional career without ever even being tempted by a student. And he’d sworn he never would.
Which just about killed him since his whole body was still tight with the awareness of her