Rebecca glared at him. “FYI, Mr. Big Pants, all these people want is a resolution against killing deer and for relocating them. I don’t think that is outside the realm of Tom’s influence.” She began marching from the room, the heels of her flimsy little sandals making a staccato click click click across the linoleum floor.
“Yes, but is it practical?” Matt asked, following close behind, even more irritated that in spite of his frustration, he could not help but watch the jiggle of her magnificent tush. “You don’t think that it’s asking a little too much to take up Tom’s time with something that has absolutely no bearing on his candidacy or running this state, just because you feel sorry for a bunch of deer?”
That got her—she gasped, stopped in her march and whirled around so quickly to retort that Matt almost collided with her. “What sort of man are you?”
“The sort of man who would like to help Tom get elected and not become the poster child of Save Bambi.”
“Oh. My. God,” she muttered, whirling about and marching again. She made it three whole steps before she stopped and pivoted again, forcing him back on his heels. “You know what you are? You are . . . you are . . . I can’t even say it!” she snapped with a wave of her hand, and abruptly whirled about again with a little too much force. Matt stopped her from banging into the wall by catching her arm, but blocked her exit by planting his arm against the wall, just next to her head. Rebecca was effectively trapped. And he liked that.
She folded her arms across her middle and glaring at him. “What do you think you are doing?”
Matt’s gaze dipped to her pouty lips while his head filled with the scent of Chanel. “Giving you the opportunity to say it,” he said. “Speak your mind, Rebecca; let’s hear it.”
“Okay. You’re infuriating.”
“I’m infuriating?” he snorted. “You’re playing a little fast and loose with that word, aren’t you, Miss Priss?”
“You know, you’re right, Popinjay. I meant to say that you are impossibly arrogant—”
“That’s nice, coming from someone all puffed up over a couple of flags,” he interjected, smiling a little now, because the woman was really stunning when she was all charged up.
“And you’re overbearing.”
“Determined,” he corrected her with a lazy grin as his gaze drifted to her lips again.
Rebecca didn’t say anything for a moment, but then surprised him by laughing low and lifting up, so that her face was just below his, so close that he could have, were he insane, kissed her without much effort. What alarmed him a little was that he was sorely tempted to do so. “I know what you are doing,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“So what am I doing?” he asked, actually a little curious as to what he was doing, because he was feeling just on the edge of out of control.
“You,” she said, poking a finger at the knot of his tie, “are trying to get to me.” She smiled softly, inched up on her toes so that her lips were even closer to his. One teeny-tiny millimeter away. “You don’t think I belong here, and you think you can scare me away,” she murmured, her breath warm and sweet.
Those lips, those smiling, full and lush lips . . . Matt’s smile deepened. “I’d be a fool to try and scare you away. But I am trying to put a little sense in that pretty head of yours.”
“Well, guess what, Matt?” she asked, her gaze languidly wandering his face. “It’s not working.” And he suddenly felt a sharp pain on the top of his foot at the precise point where her heel had come down on it. Matt instantly dropped his arm and fell back, wincing. “And I’m not going anywhere,” she added pertly, walking on.
“I was afraid of that,” he muttered, and still grimacing from the pain, he followed her.
They burst through the door where the others were meeting so that everyone looked up in surprise. “Sorry we’re late,” Rebecca said, striding forward, and sat down hard at the table. Matt sat down hard next to her. Both of them looked expectantly at Tom, and both of them made a concerted effort not to look at each other.
Tom looked at Pat, then at Matt and Rebecca. “Okay . . . well, then! We’ve got a lot to cover, folks. So! Let’s hear some reports! Angie? That’s some nice red hair you have today. What else have you got?”
“The phone bank went well today,” Angie reported. “We had five volunteers from the university, me, Gilbert, and Rebecca. We made a little over one hundred calls in two hours.”
Pat and Gilbert cheered and clapped. “That’s great!” Tom exclaimed. “Gilbert? What about the yard signs?”
“Teams in Dallas, Houston, and San Antonio went to work this weekend and placed eighteen hundred signs. Pat and Rebecca and I split up into three sectors and placed three hundred and fifty signs just in Austin.”
At least now Matt knew which Chanel-scented beauty queen had put the yard signs in West Austin.
“Great work!” Tom exclaimed.