by Robyn Amos
I'm glad you're not seriously hurt, Mr. Gray."
Cara drew back, indicating the conversation was over.
"Please, call me A.J."
She frowned at him but didn't answer. Instead
she took another step back.
Had he missed something? Why was she backing
off as if he were some street punk yelling catcalls out of
a car window? If she reacted this badly to being told she
was attractive, what would she do if he laid it on thick?
He was just curious enough to find out.
"Cara," he let her name slide from
his lips like molasses. "Please call me A.J."
He closed the distance between them, arching
his brow wickedly. "I was hoping we could get together
for a little personal training. You know, I need help pumping
my iron," he said in his younger brother's best mackdaddy
tone. But he couldn't keep the corners of his lips from twitching.
Her eyes widened, and her jaw slackened.
She looked as if she wanted to slap him.
A.J. couldn't hold back his laughter.
"I'm sorry Cara, I couldn't resist teasing you. I figured
if you were going to give me the deep freeze, I may as well
say something to earn it."
If Cara had looked as if she wanted to smack
him a minute ago, she looked like she wanted
to strangle him now. Her eyes were a burning blaze of hellfire.
"Take care of that foot, Mr. Gray,"
she said in a bitter cold tone. "I wouldn't want you
to have any more accidents."
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