Win Me Over (9 page)

She met his eyes—
oh, I heard you all right
. She wondered what
likable
meant to him, but whatever it was, the sound of his voice and the look on his face had her stomach clenching. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable before they even got started, so she decided it best to change the subject. “So should we get on with things?”

He turned and began to lead her through the garage and into the house. “You hungry? I made a little something. If you're not, no big deal, but I hadn't eaten.”

Matter of fact, she was starving, and the second she entered the house a hunger pang struck in reaction to the incredible scent. She could detect garlic and basil, and it was like walking into an Italian restaurant.

“Oh my gosh, Bennett. It smells amazing.” She couldn't see his reaction as she followed his beautifully wide shoulders down a narrow hallway.

His body was so large and muscular, it now made sense that he'd been a pro football player; he was made like one. And he'd managed to maintain his physique years after. Even through his shirt she could tell that his back would be well formed. The way he walked was sexy, straight and confident, gait smooth. She loved how his hair was neatly trimmed short on the back of his neck. His butt was firm and tight, moving perfectly with each stride. Good lord, if Eric were here he'd have passed out by now. Callie smiled at the thought as she was led into the main part of the house.

It was as gorgeous as its owner.

The modern galley kitchen boasted high ceilings, dark wood, and stainless appliances. It was sparse but tastefully decorated with a big oak table at the end, surrounded by floor-length windows. Across an expansive island she could see a leather sectional lined up perfectly with a massive flat-screen television in the living room. It wasn't a huge house from what she could tell, but the amenities were top-of-the-line and the design was clean and masculine.

She was speechless as she walked over to the wall of windows, taking in the view. The scene was truly spectacular and the focus piece of the room. Callie could see for miles, looking down at the entire valley where Preston was nestled, the subtle changes of the coming autumn spread out before her like a warm patchwork quilt. “This view is incredible.”

“Isn't it? Pretty much why I bought this house.” His voice wasn't nearby and for some reason she'd hoped it would be. Suddenly, with this brilliant picture before her, she wanted to plaster herself to the glass and feel him lean into her; how wonderful would that be?

Stupid,
she mouthed to herself. Her warm breath left a small foggy patch on the window and she quickly rubbed it off with her sleeve, hoping he wouldn't notice.

She turned around to find him in the kitchen dishing up food onto a plate. He dropped Misha a piece of something, which Callie found adorable. She walked to the other side of the bar that connected the kitchen and living area and leaned against it. “How long have you lived here?”

“About six years. Since right after I got hired at Preston High.”

She wanted to ask him more about his past but didn't get the sense that he'd be open to that. He saved an awkward pause by setting down a plate in front of her. “Wow, you know, I never expected dinner. This is very nice.”
And oddly romantic.

“No big deal.”

“Well, you're wrong. No one ever cooks for me, and this is … fancy.” Sautéed vegetables, chicken, and pasta were tossed with a light cream sauce. A dusting of Parmesan cheese was on top.

Callie sat down at the counter and he came around to join her with his own plate. “This is not fancy. I enjoy cooking, it's dinnertime, and like I said … no big deal.”

“A man that likes to cook? I'm sure you're not hurting for dates,” she joked, even though the thought was a little irritating. And he was wrong; this was so not
no big deal
. When he was settled she took a bite of her pasta, and her shoulders slumped as she tasted it. It was pure ecstasy. Creamy, a little spicy, and the chicken cooked perfectly. “Holy crap, Bennett, this is so good.”

She looked over and caught him glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “I'm glad you like it. I don't usually use cream, but … I just thought you would enjoy it.”

“Well, good call. Everything is better with dairy.” She couldn't help thinking that was the sweetest thing. He'd used cream just for her.

They ate for a few minutes in silence until he spoke again. “You want some wine?” He gestured at an open bottle near the stove. “I used a little for the pasta, but you can have some if you want.”

“Do I sense a hidden agenda?” she teased.

“Absolutely not. I just thought you might be thirsty.” He looked genuinely discomfited by her choice of words.

“Calm down; I was kidding.” She made her way around to the bottle and he told her where she could find a glass.

When she got a second one out he shook his head. “None for me.”

“You sure? Pasta and wine are two of my favorite food groups.”

He gave her a small smile. “I don't really drink.”

“Oh, okay. Well, then I don't have to either.”

“No, please…”

She shushed him as she put the wineglass back in the cabinet and pulled out pint glasses. “I don't need wine. Besides, like my very ineloquent mother always says, ‘only drunks and stay-at-home-mothers drink alone,' and since I'm neither of those…”

Callie poured them each a glass of water and sat back down to finish her meal. Realizing that soon she was going to have her hands full of Bennett Clark, she began to feel flushed. She assumed that she'd have her work cut out for her, teaching this giant football player to be graceful, but now that she'd seen his little girly dog, his beautiful home, and his perfect skills in the kitchen, she didn't quite know what to expect. This man was many things, and she couldn't wait to see what other surprises were in store.

*   *   *

Torture was inevitable. Bravery was imperative, because brave was what he'd have to be very soon in order to get through this evening, holding her close and not letting his baser instincts take over. The same instincts that right now wanted him to thrust his hands into her hair and taste her lips. Just once. Maybe twice.

Not going to happen.

After giving Misha some water, Bennett began to rinse his and Callie's dishes in the sink, anything to avoid his impending doom. That might have explained the meal, a distraction. But also because he simply liked to cook. Felt he was good at it and stupidly had decided he should make her dinner. It pleased him immensely that she enjoyed it, and he loved how she kept him company in the kitchen as she stood by the stove picking vegetables straight out of the pan with her fingers.

Every once in a while she'd lick the sauce from her fingertips, which he tried not to focus on. Instead he listened to her as she went on and on and on about why she'd chosen the dance she did. A waltz. If he wasn't mistaken, two people danced very close in a waltz, but it wasn't necessarily sexy. Good. Very good; he didn't want sexy. He wasn't even capable of sexy dancing.

After she'd cleared the pan of every remaining mushroom—interesting, he'd almost left them out since Ashley had hated them—he put it into the sink and began to scrub. He found himself stalling, washing it longer just to keep hearing Callie speak. The woman liked to talk and she was really funny. Open. Humble but also incredibly sure of herself. He'd never considered that so appealing, or maybe he'd never known a woman like her. Her personality was as attractive as she was.

After their first meeting, Bennett hadn't expected to be so comfortable with her. The teasing and bantering was still there, but Callie wasn't pushing or prodding at him. He'd dated a little over the years and found that many women thought stroking his ego was the way to go. They wanted him to talk about himself, about his time in the pros. Or they wanted to talk to him about him. How much they knew about his stats, how nice his house was. It was maddening and never ever felt genuine.

Not Callie. She was happy to chatter about anything and everything as she got herself some more ice from the refrigerator. She talked about her favorite dances, the girls on her team, how much she liked the digital display on his oven. She was just so easy to be around. Never once did she ask him uncomfortable questions or hint for information. He needed to remember that she wasn't trying to impress him and didn't have a hidden agenda. She wasn't into him, and this wasn't a date. She was doing him a favor.

Nothing more. And yet watching her laugh as she talked about the crappy oven in her duplex, he couldn't help thinking that maybe she liked spending time with him, too.

When the last dish was loaded and he'd started the washer, she walked into his living room and flopped down on the couch.

“So, we could practice in here to start, but it's a little tight. And a smooth floor would be better.”

“There's the basement, or we could go outside.”

“Let's do that. It's nice out and the driveway's big.” She jumped up. Where did she get all of this energy? And why did it have to be so adorable?

He followed her out the front door and released a deep breath. He was about to well and truly put his hands on this woman, and on top of that he was starting to panic about his leg. It felt pretty good today, but he had no idea what this dancing would require. He'd decided not to go into it by telling her he was incapable; he wasn't interested in her babying him or making concessions. He could handle it, deal with the pain later. He'd been doing that for years, but experience told him he'd better pop the pain pills before he went to bed.

Bennett showed her to an outlet in the garage so she could plug in her little iPod speaker system. She kept a small remote in one hand and then grasped his finger with her other. He was surprised but let her lead him to the middle of the concrete drive. She let him go and then immediately got to business, her expression going serious.

“Okay. So I was thinking about the best way to go about this, considering you have no dancing experience. I think first I'll do the routine and let you watch, just to get a feel for it.”

He nodded. “Okay, but how will you do it by yourself?”

“Well, obviously you'll have to use your imagination. I'll pretend I'm dancing with a partner.” She gave him a wink.

He swallowed when she stepped close to him. Really close, her chest brushing against his. Yeah, he'd certainly be using his imagination all right. Now, tonight, in the shower, and probably every day for the next month. He really needed to get his thoughts in check or this was going to be a very uncomfortable practice.

She placed a palm on his cheek in a light caress and he froze. She didn't seem to notice or care, just kept on talking. “So this is how we'll start. I chose this song because it has a lot to offer as far as rhythm. It's six-eight time, but it also has a great upbeat that is perfect for making it a contemporary waltz mix. It will make it a little sexier and the judges and the audience will love that.”

Bennett's eyes went wide. “Sexier? You sure that's a good idea?”

She laughed, low and throaty. “Sexiness is always a good idea in dancing. I have a feeling you'll be able to pull it off.”

Was she implying that he was sexy? He wouldn't ask her to clarify, but he hoped that was it. Instead he made a joke. “I wish I was that confident in my dancing abilities.”

“Have you watched the actual show
Celebrity Dance Off
?” she asked, but didn't wait for his answer, which would've been a firm no. “You really should. I love it, and the sexy factor is always high. At least in my favorite dances.”

Good to know.
This close her eyes sparkled and she had the tiniest little freckles on her nose. She still had her hand on his cheek and it took all of his willpower not to lean into it as she spoke. “Okay. I trust you.”

“Good. I'm going to go through my part so you get a feel for what the dance will look like in the end. So, watch what I do and relax. This will be fun.”

He couldn't respond; suddenly he was past the point of nervous. He was downright scared shitless. Not only to see what was in store for him physically but also to dance in front of an audience. In front of her. Funny for a guy who had played football in front of thousands, but this was definitely nowhere near similar to running and throwing a ball through the air. This was supposed to be … pretty. Creative. And as she mentioned so nonchalantly … sexy. He was in serious trouble.

She shifted her hand on his jaw and the music started. He recognized the song right away, but his brain stopped thinking altogether when she ran her hand down his neck seductively and then bent her knees in front of him, palm sliding down his chest all the way to his stomach. She jerked back up suddenly, and before he could process her movements she spun away from him.

Her face jerked in his direction and she stared into his eyes for a moment before she spun back toward him, her chest flush against his. The song had a strong drumbeat that her body seemed to have memorized and she shifted back and forth against him, making him feel ridiculous for standing still. She only smiled at him before pushing off again into a spin.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her hips, her legs. Then her body leaned back as if someone were holding her. Would that be him? Oh shit, it would have to be. He had to physically hold his mouth shut as she put her arms up to imitate how they would rest on him as she circled.

“This is where we transition into a traditional waltz,” she said over the music.

He couldn't respond; instead he slowly pivoted around like a statue on a turntable, unable to take his eyes off her as she stepped around the driveway. Her feet moved so fast he could barely keep up.

“Don't worry, you'll learn the waltz steps; it will be easy.”