Page 12 of The Professor's Wife
“I don’t usually find myself in these situations.” His smile tightened. “I’m going to follow my gut and try to keep you interested.”
I had just taken a bite when I asked, “Is that hesitation I detect?”
He chuckled. “Of course. I’m used to holding someone’s attention by singing. I’m not singing now.”
“You could be.”
“I could.”
“Are you comfortable enough to break into song right here?”
“Singing has never been the problem.”
“But?”
He paused before shaking his head. “I’m more than a pretty voice, Daze.”
My heart jumped. “You’re right.”
His shoulders relaxed.
“You’re also a pretty face.”
His laughter reached his eyes. “I think my chances improve if you lead the conversation.”
I leaned closer to his side. “I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m a terrible conversationalist.”
He nodded, watching my mouth as I licked the melting edge of my cone.
“We have that in common,” he said quietly.
I looked away from his intense gaze for a moment to gather myself.
“Do you usually watch people this closely?”
“Just you.” He didn’t give me time to respond before adding, “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you usually study a man this carefully?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His mouth pulled to one side. “You’ve looked at my hands at least six times.”
Heat rushed into my face. “I have not.”
“You have.”
“I was looking at your guitar pick.”
“I’m not holding it.”
My gaze dropped instinctively to his empty hand.
Tristan laughed.
“Oh, shut up.”
