“And yet, you didn’t love her?”
He shrugs. “We got along well. The sex was fine. That was enough for me.” He turns to me, and the lights from the projection across the street sparkle in his eyes. “I figure that when my true love comes along, I’ll know. I mean, look at my mom and dad. They met on the subway forty-five years ago. Even though it was love at first sight for both of them, they went their separate ways at the end of the line and didn’t see each other again for six years. Then, they literally ran into each other in the middle of Central Park. Out of all the people in New York, they ended up finding each other. If that’s not fate, I don’t know what is.”
“Yes, but you said it yourself: Your parents are the exception. It doesn’t happen like that for most people.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” he says as he gazes at me. “Look at what happened tonight. Out of all the women in New York, I found you.”
I give him a skeptical brow. “Why do I get the feeling I’m not the first woman you’ve flirted with on those steps?”
“Wrong,” he says. “Never done it before. Still not sure why I did it tonight.” There’s mischief in his eyes, so I have no idea if he’s telling the truth or not.
“I see,” I say. “So you’re saying you fell in love with me at first sight?”
He leans forward. “Maybe. Meet me in the middle of Central Park in six years, and I’ll let you know for sure.”
We stare at each other for long seconds, and the urge to kiss him is crazy strong.
“You have the most beautiful lips I’ve ever seen,” he whispers. My lips tingle just from his words. I put my hand over them to make them stop. That makes him smile. “And I find it sexy as hell that every time I’ve said something nice to you tonight, your cheeks have turned bright pink. It makes me wonder why you’re so embarrassed to receive compliments. I’m sure men tell you how gorgeous you are all the time.”
I press my hand to my rapidly heating face. I’d be lying if I denied receiving compliments regularly, and usually I’m confident enough to take them graciously. But Liam has the power to turn me into a blushing freak, and I find that very uncool.
“Can we please change the subject?” I say. “Blushing isn’t my favorite thing to do, and if you keep talking about my lips, it’s going to keep happening.”
“Fine by me.” When I glare at him, he chuckles. “Okay, then, let’s talk about why you don’t believe in fate. Or love at first sight. Or any of that romantic stuff most girls subscribe to. What’s the story?” Subject change or not, he’s still staring at my mouth.
“No story. Statistics tell us that true love is a myth, and I haven’t seen anything to prove otherwise.”
He brings his gaze up to mine, and I can’t believe how beautiful his eyes are. Green-blue with a dark navy ring around the outside. I’ve never seen anything like them.
“Sounds reasonable, but I’m sensing there’s more to it. So, you can either level with me voluntarily, or I’ll be forced to get the information through less-than-gentlemanly means, and trust me when I say I would really enjoy that.”
Okay, now he’s just flat-out trying to destroy my composure, and I’m horrified it’s working.
“It’s really not that interesting,” I say, looking down at my hands. “Let’s just say that if I had a business card, it would read ‘Elissa Holt, Preparer of Men for Other Women.’”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’ve had a handful of boyfriends, and they’ve all dumped me to be with someone else. Every one. It’s possible I’m cursed.”
I look up to see him watching me thoughtfully. “I see. And where did you meet these mentally incompetent jackasses?”
“In drama club,” I say with a laugh. “They were all actors, and they all left me for their leading ladies.”
“Ahh, that explains your earlier reaction. So now you think all actors are bastards?”
A ghost of past heartache twinges in my chest. “No. Just the ones I fall in love with. So now, I have a no-actor rule. It’s working out great so far.”
He’s silent for a moment, and then says, “Okay—I get it,” before turning to stare across the street.
We’re silent for a while, and when his shoulder brushes against mine, I close my eyes and sigh.
Okay, great. He’s gorgeous, arrogant, and spends hundreds of dollars on Shakespeare tickets—of course he’s an actor. And I’ve just shut down the possibility of anything happening between us.
I shake my head in frustration over yet again being drawn to exactly the type of man I’m trying to avoid.
Why couldn’t he be a policeman? Or a construction worker? Or a cowboy?