Waking Up Pregnant - Mira Lyn Kelly Mills & Boon Modern Tempted

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slender brow pushed up. “How’s that.”

      “I like the smile I saw. And I want one of my own.”

      That smooth hip of hers rocked out to one side. “You want a smile? I’ll save you the hassle.” She flashed him a grin barely a step above the flat business she doled out to every Tom, Dick and Harry who rolled through her section and Jeff shook his head, giving in to his own more sincere version.

      “Nice try. But you’re not going to put me off with some cheap imitation. I’ve seen the real thing, and now I want one for myself. An honest to goodness, hard-earned, full tilt smile. Bonus for the laugh. And no pity grins, either.”

      She opened her mouth to say something—probably another dismissive shutdown, but then pulled her mouth to the side as she studied him.

      “So you want to work for it?” she asked.

      And hot damn, was she actually going along? “I’m not into easy.”

      Her eyes were definitely on his now. Engaged in a way almost as satisfying as her elusive smile had been.

      “Look—”

      “Jeff,” he supplied, without trying to take her hand because touching her would probably get him slammed up against an impenetrable wall of “no” faster than he could blink.

      “Look, Jeff, you’re interesting. Which is a nice change from the norm. But I’m working so I can’t really hang out and be your hobby or anything else.”

      “Not a problem. I know you’ve got to work. So on average, how much time do you think you allot each customer outside of taking their actual drink order? I mean for the niceties: Hello, how’s your day? Good, yours? Good, know what you want? Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera...”

      “Fifteen seconds.”

      Nice try. “I’m talking the chatty ones.”

      “Forty-five.”

      “And if they’re ordering, you’ll give them the time?”

      As if sensing a trap, she answered hesitantly, “Yes.”

      “Great. I’d like to send an order of white chocolate martinis to the bridesmaids over there. But tell them it’s from the manager or something, not me.”

      When she just stared at him, he stared back. “I think our forty-five seconds are up. I mean, unless you’d like to sit down. You’re welcome to stay for a drink. Take a break.”

      “This is because you’re bored?” she asked, those steely gray eyes narrowing on him in a way that said he had her focus completely.

      Had he really said he wasn’t into easy? Because this was shaping up to be just that...and there wasn’t a single molecule in his body or thought in his head, not totally into where it was going.

      Jeff shrugged, raising his Scotch before taking a swallow. “I like to keep busy.”

      THREE

      “Consider it a public service.”

      Darcy set the Scotch on a fresh napkin and, fighting her threatening smile with everything she had, slid it in front of Jeff. The guy who was making her last night in Vegas one she’d never forget. “Letting you take me out? Okay, let’s hear it.”

      “Are you really going to make me say it?” he asked with a look all but begging her to make him do so.

      She should walk away. She didn’t date the customers and never gave into even this much interaction. But there was something about him. Something that wouldn’t let her put him off the way she did with every other guy who crossed her path.

      Even now, she could feel the corner of her mouth nearly betraying her as it threatened a smile. And Jeff knew it. He was watching, one brow raised. And then his eyes were locked back with hers. “Almost had you.”

      Yeah, it had been close.

      “Okay, I give. How is my going out with you a public service?”

      Satisfaction lit his smile.

      “Because of my ego.”

      When she crossed her arms, he went on. “You’ve seen it. It’s absurd. Honestly, the size is almost a handicap.”

      This was going to be good. Her brow pushed up, wanting more, but unwilling to open her mouth to ask for fear she’d break down laughing.

      “If you crush this beast— Darcy, I’m not going to be able to drag it out of here.”

      “That big?”

      “Like you really need to ask.”

      This guy was trouble. And exactly the kind of fun she deserved on her last night in Vegas. So long as it didn’t go any further than a little flirtatious back-and-forth.

      “I’m telling you, it’ll be flailing around on the floor. Going boneless when I try to pick it up.”

      “Wow, almost like another person.”

      He offered a nod. “I call it Connor.”

      “An ego named Connor.” Now she’d heard everything...and somehow it only made her want to hear more.

      He let out a short laugh and rubbed a hand over his mouth as if trying to push the smile off his lips before going on. “And here’s the problem. That ego’s going to need some serious stroking to recover from your rejection.”

      Her eyes started to narrow, but he waved her off.

      “It’ll demand I hit on every female to cross my path. Forcing me to turn on the charm, we’re talking full blast—”

      “Like a fire hose?” she supplied, knowing she shouldn’t have said it, but—well, she kind of couldn’t help it.

      Jeff’s mouth was open, halfway to the next ridiculous part of his pitch when he froze. Cranked his eyes over to hers, the look in them one of amusement and warning.

      “Exactly like a fire hose.”

      But for the way this guy was working her, there was something about him that seemed safe. Whatever it was, it was tempting her to push what she knew better than to play with. “So after you spray all these women down with your big hose. What happens then?”

      “Widespread devastation. Women weeping everywhere. Broken hearts littering the streets. They’re all going to fall in love with me, but all I’m really looking for is a date. Nothing serious. Just some fun.”

      Ahh, the circle back to her and suddenly eye contact seemed more than she could handle. “And this is what happens every time a woman turns you down?”

      Jeff shrugged, reaching for his Scotch. “Wouldn’t know. It hasn’t happened yet. Seriously, what kind of decent woman would want that kind of emotional carnage on her conscience?”

      Darcy looked this guy up and down, taking in the details she’d glossed over before. The overly thick shock of dark hair with a mess of unruly cowlicks at total odds with the serious, straight cut of his classic suit.

      But if the hair and suit were a working contradiction, they were nothing compared to his face. The heavy, squared-off jaw and single flashing dimple. The rough look of a nose that had seen a break or two and the ridiculously long fringe of dark lashes over eyes a soft, earthy hazel. On looks alone, this was a man who could keep a girl guessing. Add his confidence and charm to the mix and she imagined most women wouldn’t mind playing Jeff’s guessing game for as long as it was on offer.

      Yeah, he was definitely more dangerous than she’d given him credit for.

      Time to clear things up.

      “Look, Jeff. I’m flattered, but I don’t date customers. Ever.”

      “I noticed when I came in. I like it.”

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