“Why are you here?” she asked. Not exactly a friendly a greeting as say Nolan would have received, but her reasons for not being comfortable with TJ were as complicated as everything else in her life at the moment.
His eyes said he’d registered her tone and was thinking about smiling. “You going to invite me in?”
Ah, he speaks. But no. Hell, no. That would be like inviting in the big bad wolf. She shook her head and simultaneously swallowed another bite of ice cream, which naturally went down the wrong pipe, and as the cold ache exploded behind her eyeballs, she choked.
Stepping in close, way too close for comfort, TJ ran a hand up her back, patting her between the shoulder blades as she coughed and gasped.
“Brain freeze?” he murmured, his hands still on her, which was disconcerting enough, but added to that, he brushed against her with all those tough muscles, the ones that could make a nun ache to touch him, and in spite of her current and regrettable lack of a sexual life, she was certainly no nun. If she were, she’d be excommunicated for the thoughts she was having.
Yeah, she had brain freeze, and not just from the ice cream. “Back up,” she wheezed. “Give me space.”
He obligingly took a step clear of her, managing to get inside her apartment as he did, because after all, he was a slippery, wily-as-a-fox Wilder. Their ancestors had created the wild, wild west, emphasis on the wild, wild. In fact, it was rumored that the Wilders were responsible for the addition of the second ‘wild’. That tendency had carried down through the generations, each subsequent Wilder doing his best to live up to the name, most ending up in jail or six feet under. Somehow though, the current generation had escaped the worst of the bad genes, or at least outgrown them.
For the most part.
Didn’t mean he wasn’t up for taking advantage of a situation. “I didn’t invite you in, TJ.”
He just smiled.