“Yes.”
Irritation flashed on her face. “Don’t bother. I’m not staying.”
He smiled. “We both know you don’t want to go, sweetheart.”
“Oh, really? Now you’re an expert on what I want?”
Ignoring her squeaky protest, Aidan swiped the computer from her lap and walked over to set it on the dresser. He strode back to the bed and sat beside her. There was a foot of space between them, but he could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell her addictive lavender scent and see her pulse throbbing in her throat.
“I know you don’t want to be in San Francisco right now,” he said with a shrug. “Your parents will drive you nuts by fussing over you, you’ll be sleeping in the apartment you shared with Chris—who at the moment is enjoying your honeymoon without you. And you’ve got three weeks off, so you’re just going to sit around bored and stuck in your own head.”
Claire scowled at him. “At least that’s better than being accused of inviting a sexual assault.”
“He didn’t mean that and you know it. Dylan’s just in a shitty mood and he decided to take it out on you.”
“And that makes it right?” she challenged.
“Not at all. Look, I’m not going to make excuses for him or apologize on his behalf, but you need to know that you’re wrong about him.” Aidan’s heart squeezed. “He’s a good guy, Claire. And he cares about people, sometimes a helluva lot more than he should. For some reason, you just rub him the wrong way.”
“Well, the feeling is mutual.”
“What about me?” he asked impulsively.
Her forehead creased. “What do you mean?”
“Do I rub you the wrong way?”
Surprise flickered in her eyes. “Of course not.”
Smiling again, he angled his body so they were face-to-face instead of side by side. “You’ve enjoyed hanging out with me today, right?”
That appealing blush rose in her cheeks. “Yes. I’ve had fun.”
“Then keep having fun with me. Stay.”
Claire bit her plump bottom lip, and for a second he experienced a pang of envy that Dylan had had the pleasure of feeling those sexy lips pressed against his. Shit, he wanted this woman bad. Like trembling-hands-and-dry-mouth kind of bad.
“So what, I stick around for a few more days and just hang out with you? Don’t you have to work?” She paused. “Come to think of it, I don’t even know what you do. Are you in the navy too?”
“Yep, but I deal in naval intelligence. I work a boring eight-to-four out of the base, but I’ve got a bunch of personal days saved up that I can use if we want to take any day trips.”
“Day trips?” She laughed, and the sweet sound tickled his heart. “What kind of stuff are you planning to drag me into?”
“Anything you want. Might as well treat this like a vacation, no? We can check out the sights, drive up the coast, hit Malibu, Catalina, spend a day in LA if you want. So yeah, sightseeing, exploring. I’m even willing to let you drag me to every department store in the state if it means you’ll stay.”
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want me to stay so badly? You don’t even know me.”
She was doing that cute nibbling thing to her lip again, and he couldn’t stop himself—he reached out, grasped her chin, and swept his thumb over that pouty lower lip.
Claire’s breath caught. Her brown eyes widened before going heavy-lidded with desire.
Oh yeah, this woman wanted him. He hadn’t missed the way her gaze had gobbled him up when they’d first met, and today he’d seen her checking him out more than once when she thought he wasn’t looking.
“I want you to stay because you fascinate me.” His voice was so hoarse he had to clear his throat before continuing. “I want to get to know you.”
He traced her cupid’s-bow mouth with his finger, enjoying the way her breathing quickened.
“Why do I fascinate you?” she murmured, making no move to wiggle out of his touch.
“I don’t know. You just do,” he said simply. “I guess it’s because…well, truthfully, I don’t spend time with many women like you.”
“Women like me?”
He smiled sheepishly and dropped his hand from her face. “You know, the non-airhead type. The women I’ve dated, or the ones Dylan and I bring home, they’re usually all about living in the moment, having a good time for a night and then moving on. That’s not to say they’re ditzy or dumb, but they certainly aren’t serious, you know what I mean?”
“And you think I’m serious?”
“I think you’re…pretty fucking amazing, actually. You’re smart, ambitious, funny, sexy—”
“You think I’m sexy?” Her face took on that pinkish hue again.