“Yes it is. I can see it in your eyes. It’s important to you. Please tell me.”
Her words combined with her fingers pressing into the center of his palm was like an infusion of mental cortisone. It wouldn’t fix the problem, but it numbed the pain just enough to get the job done. Taking a deep breath he told her what he’d only ever told Jax. “I enjoyed sculpting. I liked that I could create with the same hands I used to destroy my opponents in the cage. You’re right. I do see things differently. I don’t just see an apple, but I see the individual curves and lines that make up that apple, including the bruise on one side that makes a flat spot roughly the size of a thumbprint.
“But people don’t want to know that about me. They want to know what I’m doing to cut weight, what new routines my trainers are putting me through, and whether or not I think I’m going to come away with my hand raised in my next fight. It’s what I’m good at. It’s who I am.”
“You’re wrong, though,” she said, taking a small step forward. “Who you are isn’t just one thing. It’s everything you’re passionate about. You can be a sculptor, Reid, and still be a fighter if that’s what you want.”
The tenderness in her conviction made him want to hold her in his arms and kiss that heart-shaped freckle at the corner of her soft gray eyes. Eyes that saw remarkably through his bullshit and glimpsed his soul.
“You know what I want? I want to eat.” He caught the attention of their sales lady with a wave of his arm. “Help her with the tags on this one, please. She’s wearing it out of the store. Then we’ll take everything else she tried on. Thanks.”
When he handed over his credit card, Lucie pinned him with a glare. He was glad she wore her contacts today. She looked all hot-librarian in her glasses, but he preferred this unobstructed view of her expressive dove-gray eyes. Even if their current expression said she was clearly pissed off.
“Now what’s wrong?”
She crossed her arms under her breasts and lifted her chin. “I might not be a big-time UFC celebrity like yourself, but I’m far from indigent. I’ll pay for my own clothes.”
Of all the things he’d expected her to say, that wasn’t even in the bunch. Reid wasn’t used to women who insisted on paying for themselves when they were with him. He had more money than he knew what to do with from his fights and product endorsements. That she even wanted to buy the clothes he insisted she get in the first place spoke volumes of her character.
“Luce,” he said, pulling her arms down so he could hold her hands, effectively breaking the body language that would remind her of her anger. “I know you can buy your own clothes. You’re a successful, strong, independent woman who doesn’t need anyone to take care of her.”
The fire in her eyes fizzled a little as he worked to break through her guard. “That’s right, I don’t.”
“However, the new wardrobe was my idea, so I’m going to buy you the clothes and then I’m taking you out to dinner.” She was just about to argue—it seemed to be the woman’s favorite past time, for chrissakes—so he placed a finger on her lips and said, “No arguments. I’m going to head over to the men’s store and get something more appropriate than these cargo shorts and polo. And grab some ibuprofen for this damn shoulder. Wait here and I’ll be back to pick you up.”
He removed his finger and turned to leave when he heard, “But—”
With a growl of frustration he grabbed her by the nape and pulled her against him as he planted his lips on hers. She stiffened and a shocked squeak came from somewhere in the back of her throat. But a moment later the squeak became a tiny moan and her body melted into him. Somewhere in the back of his mind his conscience screamed the words “hands-off approach,” but his libido was quick to tackle it to the mat, knocking the wind out of the suddenly unwelcome reminder.
Her lips were warm under his and tasted of her strawberry lip gloss. He bet her tongue would taste just as ripe and sweet, but instinct told him if he crossed that line he might not stop. Before he lost himself to the primal need urging him to push her into the nearest dressing room and show her how good the dress would look on the floor as well, he broke the kiss to see a dazed look on her face. “Damn, woman, do you always have to argue? Just go along with the plan or my next tactic will be public spanking.”