“Heels and an apron, you say?” He rubbed his jaw. “I could definitely work with that, as long as that’s the only thing you’ll be wearing in our kitchen. You don’t even have to cook. Just stand there.”
She smacked her palm against her forehead. “Oh my God. This is why I didn’t want to get married.”
“Because I want to see you practically naked in heels?” He cocked his head and stared at her feet. “Scratch that. Just keep the boots on.”
“Not happening.”
“Fine, you can wear heels.” He let out a dramatic sigh. “Look at us. Compromising already. This marriage stuff is easy.”
She choked on a laugh but slapped his arm as she passed him. “God, you’re so annoying.”
“Hey, wait for your hubby.” He caught up with her easily. “What? Can you blame me for wanting the boots? You look hot in them and an apron, even in my head. Tell me you’re not picturing it right now.”
She wasn’t picturing that at all. No, she was picturing the look on his face if she greeted him dressed in that. And what he would do after he found her dressed the way he wanted. Shaking her head to clear it, she narrowed her eyes at him. “It’ll never happen.”
“We’ll see about that.” When she headed for the doors that led outside, he stopped walking and pointed at the elevator. “We’re in the honeymoon suite, remember?”
She hesitated. No, she hadn’t remembered. “Well, I’ll still need clothes. And toiletries.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to go get them.” He held the door open for her. “After you, wife.”
She pushed through the door to the sidewalk. It might be after two in the morning, but Vegas was still in full swing. A drunk couple talking about gambling stumbled past them and an old, completely sober couple holding hands walked the other way. How cute. Could that be her and Mike if they waited this thing out?
She headed for a parked cab, ignoring Mike’s outstretched hand. “Don’t you need some stuff, too?”
“No.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I got my shit earlier while you were working. I also took off work, you know, to enjoy the honeymoon.”
How cocksure could he be? He’d had no idea what her answer would have been. She was so indignant about his arrogance that she forgot to ask him what he did for a living. “And what if I said no to you?”
He shrugged. “I’d have been fine up there alone if you refused me.”
Yeah, but she doubted he would be alone. A guy like Mike didn’t have to try hard to get a woman interested in him. Or to get them to marry him, for the love of God. The only reason he was trying so hard for her was probably because she didn’t want him.
Or…didn’t want to want him, anyway.
“You would’ve had another girl up there quicker than I can do jazz hands, wouldn’t you?” She shook her hands next to her face and did a quick shuffle step to drive her point home, then slid into his Charger, ignoring her so-called husband’s laughter as he settled behind the wheel.
“What the f**k was that?”
“I already told you last night. Jazz hands.” She gave him her address before turning her attention back to the previous discussion. “You act like you’re all sincere about wanting to be with your wife, and yet, you wouldn’t have even cared if I’d said no. You would have been at the bar all, ‘baby, my wife just left me. I’m so sad.’”
“As much as I admire your imitation of me,” he said, an amused expression on his features, “When did I ever say I’d bring another woman up to our hotel room, or give you any reason to think I would?”
“You don’t have to say it. I can sense it. I know guys like you. I am a guy like you, but without the set to prove it.” She poked at his arm. “Green light, yellow light, red light, remember? I heard that whole speech, including the fact that you don’t want to be married. Ever. But yet—”
“We are.”
“Yeah.” She blew out a breath. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re the type of man who doesn’t get a broken heart because your heart never enters into the equation. You’re not willing or ready to offer it up to a woman, so you keep it safe. It’s simple math. And it doesn’t take much to know that at the end of the week, I’ll be leaving.”
For a second, he looked at her as if she’d struck him physically. But then he smiled and held a hand over his chest. “Oh, babe. If you want my heart, try talking history instead of math. That might win me over.”
“You like history?”
“Of course.” He pursed his lips. “I do teach it, after all.”
Her eyes went all wide. “Oh my God. You’re a teacher?”
“Yep.”
She crossed herself and mumbled, “God save America.”
“Hey, now.” He gave a choked laugh. “I’ll have you know I’m quite good at my job. I’ve been teaching middle school students since I graduated college.”
Even better. “I’m sure all the girls in your class think you’re the best teacher ever.” She sang the chorus of “Hot for Teacher.”
“Oh, stop. If they do, I wouldn’t know. They are children after all.” He lifted a shoulder and flexed his fingers on the wheel. “They all seem equally enthusiastic to learn, if you ask me. As in, they don’t want to.”
She could tell he didn’t like the current topic, which probably meant all the girls in his school were crushing on him. They’d have to be blind not to. But really, look at him. What young girl in her right mind wouldn’t be half in love with him?
“Do some of them ask for tutoring, even when they have straight A’s?”
He looked at her weirdly. “Sometimes, I guess.”
“Then they like you.”
He raised a brow. “Is that what you did to the cute teachers in your school?”
No. She’d avoided them. She’d been an awkward child at best, more interested in dancing than learning. “And if I did?”
“Then kiss me. I can tutor you all you want, free of charge.” He grabbed her hand and nibbled at her wrist. “All you have to do is ask.”
She laughed and pulled free before burying her hand in his thick, blond hair. She loved the way it wrapped around her fingers. Giving it a gentle tug, she asked, “Oh, yeah?”