The way their bodies pressed together caused a shiver of awareness to come over Ava. A shiver she ignored.
At least until he slid his hand over the small of her back, down over her waist until his fingers splayed over her hip as though they belonged there. And damn it, it felt like they did belong there.
Like she belonged here. With him.
Oh, this was so not good.
“Oh my god,” the girl said, her hand flattening against her chest. To her credit, she looked genuinely dismayed. “I’m so sorry. When I saw you guys standing here I thought you were arguing—”
“We were,” Ava said.
“Foreplay,” Luc interrupted huskily, as his gaze raked down Ava’s body. “It really revs her motors.”
“Revs my motors?” Ava asked, pushing against him in annoyance. Because annoyance was safer than arousal. “Are you kidding me right now with the woman-as-car metaphors?”
“You like it,” he said, looping his arm casually around her neck while giving the girl a boyish grin.
“You know what else I’d like?” Ava hissed. “If you took your police baton, or whatever it’s called, and shoved it up your—”
His mouth was on her before she could finish the sentence.
It was a quick kiss.
Just a hard stamp of shut-the-hell-up. There was no tongue, just the press of his mouth against hers, lingering only slightly, but the kiss rocked Ava all the same.
Luc, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected, and as soon as his mouth left hers, his eyes sought his admirer who was already walking away.
With a look of relief, he released Ava, who was still feeling a little unsteady from the feel of his lips on hers, however meaningless and quick it had been.
“What the hell was that?” she asked to his retreating back since he was already walking away.
He stopped and turned back. “What was that?” He turned around, but didn’t stop moving as he walked backward. “That, Sims, was a test.”
She started after him. “Yeah? What did it prove?”
“That I like your mouth a hell of a lot better when it’s not yapping. Now, you coming or what?”
Ava glared at his retreating back.
Yup, it was official. America’s Hero was a total ass.
But the man could kiss.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Luc had become a creature of habit.
Which shocked the hell out of him, because as a kid, he’d been all over the place. As a teen, he’d stopped just shy of being unmanageable.
But as an adult?
He was like clockwork.
Not because he was the uptight, rigid type. He wasn’t. But when your career was such that an average week involved transitions between life-threatening situations one day and mind-numbing boredom, it helped to fill everything in between with routine.
Coffee at the same place.
Grilled cheese from the same food cart every Friday.
Somehow, this structured lifestyle had seeped into Luc’s days off as well, because it was no longer a conscious decision to head to his favorite hole-in-the-wall diner for a late breakfast when he was off duty. It was simply what he did.
Luc had never been one of those introverted, solitary types. He loved filling most of his spare time with friends, family…women.
But these morning breakfasts?
These mornings were Luc’s time. To reflect. Think. Try to forget.
Which was why on a sunny spring Saturday, nearly a week after the indecent exposure incident at Chelsea Pier, Luc’s feet suddenly seemed incapable of moving when he walked into the Darby Diner and saw her.
Ava Sims.
Luc’s reaction to seeing Ava, not just at his favorite restaurant but at his favorite table, was too jumbled to sort out. Anger at her gall. Annoyance at having his solitude ripped away. Panic at what she might find out about him when he didn’t have his uniform to protect him.
Arousal. Definitely arousal.