She thought nothing of the gesture until she realized he had stiffened, his mouth becoming a flat line of disapproval as if the greeting was unwelcome. Looking into his intense blue gaze, she saw that he was reacting to the commonplace continental greeting as if she’d planted a juicy full-tongue kiss on a stranger.
“Do you greet every man that way?”
The irritated rumble surprised her. Was he pulling a jealous act? Oh no. She didn’t play that.
She scooted back to her side and reached up to fluff her curly pompadour. “I do pretty much what I want. Haven’t you noticed?”
“All the time.” His pinched the bridge of his nose, as if he had a pain there.
Confused and frustrated by his lack of enthusiasm at seeing her again, she reached back between the front seats to greet Harley, who’d been barking and dancing in joy to see her. “Allo, mon grand gar?on.”
“Harley doesn’t speak French. German Shepherd.” Noah sounded pissed.
You’re being a butthead probably wasn’t the best response, considering his mood, Carly decided.
Instead, she gave Harley a good scratching behind both ears then raised up and planted a kiss on his doggy shiny black nose.
She flicked a glance Noah’s way as she settled back in her seat. He looked untouched by her nearness. She’d had a very different emotional response to seeing him again. Touching him had sent little ripples of pleasure rushing through her fingertips. He looked like she’d offered him a slap. Legs spread and one hand resting on the steering wheel, he stared straight ahead. His handsome profile might as well have been cut from Texas granite. He was dressed casually in jeans and a blue plaid dress shirt open at the throat. It took a second for her to realize that the black nylon strap over his shoulder wasn’t some designer artifice but the very utilitarian right half of a shoulder holster. That made her heart pick up a notch.
He wore a gun.
He’s a police officer, she reminded herself, accustomed to the sight of Jarius carrying his service weapon. Even so, her reaction to Noah carrying wasn’t staying casual. He hadn’t been wearing a gun the other times they’d met. A ripple of tension rolled through her. Something had changed.
She lifted her gaze to his face, but her question died on her lips.
He looked big, solid, and very dangerous. Felons probably backed down from this man. But she wasn’t afraid. Not when her body was still vulnerable to memories of the night before. Even now she could remember the feel of his warm hard hands sliding over her body, directing her up and down and all around his shaft. And the feel of his day-old stubble brushing her nipples.
Yet there he sat, lost in some male reverie, completely unaware of his effect on her. Maybe she needed to come at this from something less than her usual very direct angle.
“How do you like my outfit?”
He frowned at her. “You call that dressed down?” His voice was a little too neutral to be natural.
She touched her shamrock-spangled hoodie. “Too much?”
“Not if you want to start a riot. You’re wearing goddamn fuck-me boots.” He reached forward to start the engine.
She leaned in and grabbed his wrist. “Hold on. You said dress casually. I’m causal.”
He turned a hard face toward her. “Well, I’m not.’
His gaze skimmed her hoodie, pausing where her breasts thrust gently behind two big shamrocks with golden-circle centers. Though he couldn’t possible see them, Carly felt her nipples harden in response to his stare. When he looked up, his gaze was no longer angry, or disapproving. It was hot, his pupils blown wide by his own arousal. She suspected he must be seeing the same in her gaze. So then, maybe he wasn’t so angry as horny. This she could work with.
She scooted sideways in her seat, drawing close enough so that she could lean into him. She felt him tense, as if to move away, but he didn’t. Encouraged, she pushed her nose into the collar of his shirt, the better to inhale the scent of the man inside. He had showered recently. Just past the end of her nose, a bit of shaving gel still clung to his jaw. It was sexiest thing she could imagine.
“Carly.” He said her name as a rasp of sound.
“Hm?” She heard his breath catch and then hard hands were framing her shoulders. Not to pull her close but to push her back into her seat.
His gaze was hot, avid, something she’d never thought blue eyes could be. But his expression said, Back off. Totally mixed signals. “What’s wrong?”
Noah shoved a hand through his hair, completely devastating the neatly combed rows of tawny waves. “I can’t even think about answering that question without getting us both so far off topic I might not be able to crawl back to it.”
As if to prove the point, one wayward curl sprung forward forming a C-hook above his left eye. The result was impossibly boyish, and totally at odds with the stern lines of his face.