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his glasses off and stuffed them in his pocket, and those spectacular blue eyes danced with amusement. Yeah, he was laughing at me. Again. I was a little tired of it, and so I decided to turn the tables on him.
    I checked him out. Slowly. From head to toe, I took my time staring at every glorious inch of that hard, toned, muscular body.
    And it backfired on me—I almost choked when my mouth dried out completely, but no way was I letting him know that.
    “On the other hand, you’ve got a nice ass, too,” I said, trying for a slow drawl of my own.
    “Oh, I’m nice all over,” he said, and his gaze turned hot. “You have no idea.”
    I swallowed, hard, because I kind of did have an idea, and I was about an inch away from hyperventilating.
    “Well, okay,” I said, clearing my throat. “Now that we’ve established the relative niceness of our respective posteriors, maybe we can get on with the filling of my gas tank.”
    He blinked and then started laughing. “Oh, sweetheart. You are adorable.”
    Suddenly I’d had it. We kept dancing around this fierce attraction, and I had no idea what to do with it, but this tension was about to make my head explode, right here on the side of the road.
    “Look, Mickey, either help me or go away. I’m not your sweetheart, and I’m not adorable. I’m tired and hungry and I’m getting a headache. Are you going to help me or what?”
    He stared down at me, his eyes blazing with intent, as if he wanted to back me up against the truck and kiss me right then and there. Or maybe I was just projecting a whole boatload of wishful thinking on the moment because, up close, he was fiercely beautiful. His muscled arms were cut and carved like a sculptor’s dream, and the silky waves of his hair made me want to throw my arms around him and run my fingers through it, over and over. I was caught in a bizarre spell created by pure want , and I’d never felt this way before in my life.
    Naturally, it scared the crap out of me.
    I took a step back.
    “Mickey . . .” My voice was barely a whisper, a sound too fragile for the weight of the moment.
    He took a step closer.

CHAPTER 8
    Mickey
    I had to kiss her. Every instinct was telling me to pick her up so that hot little body was plastered against mine and kiss her until she didn’t remember who she was, or that my last name was Rhodale. She made a tiny sound, almost like a gasp, and I stared down at those lush, parted lips, and wanted her so much my body actually ached with it.
    I took a step back, and both of us let out shaky breaths at exactly the same time.
    “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to be myself around you,” I muttered. A lame-ass confession that made me wince even as I said it. “You don’t make sense. I barely know you, but I want to know everything about you. You’re smart and gorgeous, and you make my skin too tight.”
    The more I rattled on with this stupid confession, the more bewildered she got. She tilted her head and stared at me, and by the time I got to the end, confusion was very apparent in her green, green eyes.
    “What do you mean, I don’t make sense?” She threw her hands in the air. “You’re the one who doesn’t make sense. You’re always ordering me around, or calling me Princess like you know anything about my life at all. Maybe if you’d quit being such a . . . such a dumb head , you might get to know me.”
    I couldn’t help it. I grinned. “Dumb head? I’m not sure I can recover from such a foul insult.”
    She actually growled. Clenched her delicate little hands into fists and growled at me.
    It made me want to kiss her even more.
    “You . . . you asshole !” she finally shouted, and all I could think was that she was even more freaking gorgeous when she was pissed off.
    “Asshole. That’s way better,” I said, nodding as if contemplating the subject of insults.
    And then I kissed her.
    It wasn’t a gentle kiss or a practiced kiss; I suddenly had no moves, no technique. No