LITMIR.BIZ

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had pushed aside in favor of civility? What did it say about her that she’d allowed them to?

      “Do you think all of that will fit on a sticky note?” she asked.

      Emmitt’s gaze lazily roamed over Annie’s body and down, and Annie felt zips of awareness follow in its wake. “You strike me as the type of woman who, once she sets her mind to something, doesn’t let anything stand in her way.”

      The confident way he said it sent a rush of tingles racing through her body faster than her mom checking out a Black Friday sale.

      “That’s a bold statement to make about someone you’ve spoken to twice.”

      “What can I say—they’ve been insightful conversations. Plus, you’re pretty easy to read.”

      Annie snorted—twice—because she was about as easy to read as a darkened street sign to a glaucoma patient.

      Born Asian and raised by white parents, Annie came into the world a walking oxymoron. In fact, the more people came to know her, the more their initial assumptions were proved inaccurate. Annie was proof that you can’t judge a book by its cover. So she was embarrassed she’d done the same to Emmitt.

      If being mysterious was considered intriguing, being a never-ending surprise was off-putting. People liked to rely on their judgment, and Annie was often misjudged.

      “You laugh, but I bet I know more about you than most guys would after six dates.”

      “This should be impressive, since I doubt you’ve been on six consecutive dates in the past six years.” When he opened his mouth to argue, she added, “With the same woman?”

      “I’m so observant, I don’t need the same amount of time other people do to know if it’s a forever kind of thing,” he said, which surprised her because when he said “forever” he didn’t look as if he wanted to gag or would break out in hives.

      “Are you saying you’re open to commitment?”

      “If it’s the right person who came along?” He shrugged. “Why not? But I don’t need to string someone along to figure out if they’re right for me. I don’t play games with the people in my life, making them jump through hoops in order to figure out where they stand. Nah, that’s childish and pretty shitty, if you ask me.”

      Annie saw a flash of fresh pain cross Emmitt’s face and realized that beneath the confident swagger lingered an uncertainty that drew Annie in. Her gut said he’d been played by someone he trusted and cared for. Based on the new sadness lurking beneath his words, that someone had deeply hurt him. And recently.

      The caretaker in Annie wanted to ask if he was okay, but the pragmatist in her understood better than to pry. The more she knew about him, the more human he’d become, and the harder it would be to kick him out of his own house.

      After a night like tonight, a smart girl would cut her losses and go straight to bed. Only Annie was tired of playing things smart, because instead of wishing him good night, she said, “Okay, wow me with your observation skills.”

      If she was going to steer clear of charming players, then she might as well learn how to recognize the signs.

      “Oh, you’ll be wowed,” he said and she rolled her eyes. “You don’t believe me? Then let’s make this a little more interesting. If I wow you with my superior observational skills, then tomorrow I get the bed.”

      As far as she was concerned, Emmitt wasn’t going to be living here come tomorrow. So what was there to lose? “Wow me.”

      “This is going to be good.” He rubbed his hands together like a kid in a candy store. “You have a thing for British mysteries, Shemar Moore, and reality dating shows.”

      “Knowing what’s on my Hulu account doesn’t make you observant, it makes you a snoop.”

      “No rules were stated at the beginning of the game as to how I come by my information. But I will lay off your horrific taste in television and get back to what a romantic you are.”

      “Of course I’m a romantic,” she argued. “I was recently planning my own wedding. I’m sorry to say, Emmitt, you’re just another man whose talents have left me wondering why I bother.”

      “You’ve clearly been hanging around the wrong men,” he tsked. “I was going to say, your romanticism goes far deeper than dream weddings, Goldilocks. Most women would jump at the opportunity to blow a few grand on a new dress, yet you went in search of the perfect tailor to alter your grandma’s. You also wanted to share her wedding date, which tells me she was not only the most important person in your life but that you never had to guess where you stood when you were with her.”

      He went silent, studying her in an intense way that kept Annie shifting on her feet.

      She was practically bouncing on her toes when he finally said, “I imagine that without her, you’ve felt a little lost throughout this whole ordeal.”

      “Of course, I still miss her. It doesn’t take a psychic to determine that.”

      “What was her name?” he asked, the question causing a wave of warm emotion to roll through her.

      “Hannah,” Annie said on a swallow, wondering why the simple exchange of sharing her grandmother’s name felt so intimate. “And lots of women choose to wear their grandma’s dress. It’s a pretty common tradition.”

      “You didn’t mention your mom wearing it, so I don’t think it was a tradition thing. I think you did it because you wanted Hannah there with you and that was the closest you could come,” he said, and her stomach did a little flip of uncertainty, because the guy was nailing it. “But clearly wedding talk isn’t wowing you as much as it’s upsetting you.”

      “I’m not upset,” she lied, refusing to show him how hard it still was to talk about her grandmother. “I’m tired.”

      “Then I’ll speed this up. You prefer baths but take showers to save on time. You have an appreciation for unexpected pairings, like pepperoni and green olives, dipping chocolate in jelly, oversized T-shirts and tiny panties. You’re a neat freak, but I bet you have one place where you say screw it and throw order and tidiness out the door.”

      Her expression must have given away her surprise, because he laughed. “Is it the inside of your purse? Or maybe it’s your car, littered with wrappers, empty water bottles, and probably even a few of those madeleine cookies floating around in case of emergency. Wherever it is, I bet it’s a complete disaster. You are as much a romantic as a pleaser. You think nothing of sacrificing what you want in order to make things easier for other people, which is why you’re okay with being called Annie when you prefer Anh.”

      A raw and familiar vulnerability swept through her, filling her heart before spilling over and burning like acid on metal everywhere it touched. Either he was incredibly intuitive or everyone else in her life was blind. And she wasn’t sure which upset her the most.

      “You’re staring,” he said roughly.

      “Just trying to figure you out is all, but since that would likely take longer than a PhD, and I have an early morning, I say we call it a night.”

      “I guess even bleeding hearts need their sleep.”

      “I guess they do.” And before she did something stupid, like climb onto his lap and ask him to tell her a fairy tale, Annie flipped the switch, plunging the room into darkness.

      Oh boy, was that ever a bad move.

      She should have made Emmitt turn off the light after she locked the bedroom—with her safely on the other side. Then she wouldn’t have noticed the way his Calvin Kleins seemed to grow brighter—and bigger—by the second. Perhaps her eyes were merely adjusting, still fully dilated to take in as much light as possible.

      Or maybe her luck had finally hit rock bottom, because his undies were, without a doubt, glowing. The more her eyes became accustomed

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