The Three-Week Arrangement (Chase Brothers)

“Sounds easy enough,” he said. Only it really wasn’t. The first pictures were of the white cat with the turquoise feather on a sparkly hat, and he almost laughed out loud at the sight of them. The cat couldn’t have looked less amused, and the expression was so perfectly in contrast with the fancy bench and hat that the full effect was nothing short of priceless. “I am amazed,” he said.

“At what? I showed you these at the shelter.”

“Better view now,” he said. “Also not holding the grumpy cat. I’m paying more attention.”

She narrowed laughing eyes. “Did you really just tell me that you weren’t paying attention before?”

“I just confessed to being distracted.” Something he wouldn’t admit now, even if he had taken more notice of her than he would have liked. Must have been the lack of pretense with her. She really didn’t seem to have an agenda with him, short of getting out of a date with Boyd, and he appreciated how utterly casual things were between them. With her lack of demands and expectations and well-meaning concern, she allowed him to shed a layer of tension he hadn’t known he carried. She let him be him, and with a start, he realized he hadn’t been that way in a long damn time.

“Which one of these do you like best?” she asked.

He glanced at the screen. “There are three pictures. You broke your own rule of choosing from two at a time.”

She sat back, bringing the computer with her. She propped it on her legs and tilted it, giving him a better view of the screen…not to mention a whole lot more body contact. “Which really begs the question of which is best,” she said.

“Middle one. She looks really pissed in that one.”

She tilted her head until it touched his shoulder. “Makes you want to run right in and bring her home, doesn’t it?”

“That reeks of sarcasm, but the picture definitely shows a lot of personality. It’s an attention grabber.” So was the warmth of her sitting so comfortably next to him, her head now resting against his arm. He didn’t think the contact was intentional, or rather flirtatious. It was probably a typical-for-her friendly gesture that just didn’t normally twist men into knots. But nevertheless, there he sat. Knotted.

“I reek of nothing,” she said with good-natured defiance.

He took a breath of that crisp apple smell and flailed a little.

She tilted her head, away this time. “I see your point about the attitude. She looks so sweet until you land on that expression.” She dragged the image to a folder, then pulled up a few more. All of him and the somewhat terrifying creature known as Shaggy. “Now this is contrast.”

“I’m afraid to ask which side of it I’m on.”

“The dog is adorable,” she said without hesitation. “And you are stupidly hot.”

“Is that even a compliment?”

She didn’t look away from the computer. “Your eyes are insane,” she said, her attention fixated on the image that dominated her screen. “I bet if I posted that picture, people would accuse me of using a filter.”

“I’m not sure what that means, but—”

“Changing the color. No one would believe they’re natural.”

He took the opening. “What about yours? Are they naturally that striking shade of blue?”

She turned to him then, presumably giving him every chance in the world to figure that one out for himself. But he completely failed to look for the telltale outline of a contact lens. The connection was so intense that he dropped his gaze, finding himself in no better shape when he focused on her lips. He wondered for the hundredth time if they were as soft as they looked.

He was still wondering when her fingertips grazed his jaw. “Perfect hint of stubble,” she said. “Just enough to look rugged. Maybe even a little wild. But not like you’ve gone days without a brush or running water.”

“This is a desired quality in a man?” Of course she’d like someone wild, and his stubble was probably the closest he’d ever get.

Her eyes danced. “Now who’s being sarcastic?”

“I wasn’t fishing for compliments,” he said to clarify.