Chapter 13

Dinner with Harry turned most interesting. Over steaks the size of Texas, wedged fries, and tall glasses of malt beer, he flirted with me. He reached across the table and touched my fingers with his, and our knees occasionally, and purposely, bumped together. He kept smiling, had an electric twinkle in his green eyes, and never steered his stare away from mine. News flash: the man had a ferocious hunger for me, wanting me.

I played hard to get, of course. Why not? Sometimes a man likes games. Even with big and charming and sexy ginger bears like Harry.

At the end of our meal he caught me off guard with: “You’re just not into me, are you, Sawyer?”

“I never said that.”

“I’m beginning to think I’m wasting my time in getting to know you more.”

I winced, disliking his statement. “If I may be frank, Harry.”

“Please.” He nodded, unblinking.

“I like a man who works for things, particularly my heart. I won’t allow you to be an exception to my rule.”