“Not when you act like it’s a chore.”
Another sigh tumbled out of her mouth, longer this time, and lined with exasperation. “I can’t believe you. You’ve been flirting with me all night, taunting me with how we’re going to end up in bed together, and when I finally give in, you back out. Unbelievable!”
Shaking her head, she stalked past him and flew into the kitchen. A large window had been cut out of the wall, so he could see her every movement as she pulled the fridge door open so hard the items on the shelves clattered against one another. Ben hid a grin, enjoying the way she grabbed a carton of orange juice and slammed it on the counter.
She looked pissed and he loved it. Not that he got off on infuriating women, but this one deserved to have a few feathers ruffled. He was used to people assuming things about him, but Maggie was the first woman who’d ever openly challenged and criticized him. The first woman who acted like having sex with him was as appealing as a root canal.
“Why did you ask me to come here when it’s obviously not what you want?” He knew he sounded angry, but what annoyed him more was the faint twinge of disappointment he heard in his voice. If anyone should be disappointed, it was her.
She poured a glass of orange juice and then sipped the liquid slowly, as if contemplating her answer. He noticed that the fire had left her eyes, replaced by a flicker of hesitation.
“It is what I want,” she finally replied.
Her entire demeanor was so glum that his ego took a nice hit. “You sound so enthusiastic.”
She tightened her lips. “You don’t get it.” Turning around, she moved to the far end of the kitchen.
He couldn’t see her from where he stood, but he heard the sound of running water, then her soft footsteps as she returned to the main room. She played with the edge of her ponytail and the vulnerability dancing across her fair face chipped away at his anger.
“I don’t have much room in my life for dating.” She gave a self-deprecating smile. “Or sex, for that matter.
“And yet our first meeting took place in a hotel room, with you getting naked and hopping into my bed.” He took a step closer, but still kept a few feet between them. “Who were you supposed to meet, by the way?”
“Tony.” Her reply came out as a groan.
The spark of jealousy he felt at the sound of another man’s name on Maggie’s lips was not only unwelcome, but bewildering. “And who’s Tony?”
She stared down at her high heels as if they were the most interesting thing she’d seen in days. “Just a guy I meet a couple times a year.”
Ben faltered. “Not a boyfriend?”
“No. Like I said, I don’t have time for dating. Or sex,” she repeated.
As understanding dawned, Ben couldn’t fight an amazed laugh. “Are you saying you only have sex two times a year, with this Tony guy?”
“Sometimes it’s three,” she said, sounding defensive.
Another laugh tickled his throat. He tried very hard to swallow it back. For the first time all night Maggie had dropped her combative attitude. The last thing he wanted was to spark another fight by making fun of her, though in his defense, the laughter lodged in his throat was yet again driven by amazement, not ridicule.
“What exactly keeps you so busy?” he asked, genuinely curious.
She shrugged. “Work. School. Volunteering. And relationships always seem to get in the way.”
“I see.”
“That’s why I don’t understand this,” she blurted.
“This?”
“You and me. The attraction, whatever.” She rubbed her forehead with one hand, then her temples, then pinched the bridge of her nose, as if acknowledging the chemistry between them was nothing but a headache. “I don’t bring guys to my apartment. I don’t have flings. I don’t have time for flings. Especially with men like you.”
Against his better sense, a grin lifted the corners of his mouth. “And what kind of man am I?”
She bit on her lip. “The complicated kind. The distracting kind.”
His grin widened. “What is it about me that distracts you?” He closed the distance between them, planting his hands on her waist. “Let me guess. My rugged good looks? Or maybe it’s the way I kiss?”
“Ben—”
“No, wait, I figured it out.” He brushed his finger over her lips, pleased when he heard her sharp inhale. “I distract you because—much as it bugs you—I turn you on like no man ever has. Isn’t that right, Maggie?”
“No.”
He chuckled. “It’s okay to be in denial. And it’s also okay to feel disappointed.”
She pushed his hand off her mouth and stepped back. “Why would I feel disappointed?”
“Because the ship has sailed, babe.”
“What ship?”
“The sex ship.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You blew it, Red.”
“Excuse me?” Both her reddish-brown eyebrows sailed up to her forehead, and Ben felt like kissing that indignant frown off her sexy mouth.