The Pregnancy Project. Kat Cantrell
up the entire box from the shelf and handed it to the clerk along with his American Express.
“Dante!” Harper laughed. “I just wanted one, not twenty. You’ll have me looking like a blimp if you keep that up.”
The cashier did a double take as she zeroed in on Dante’s face, then she glanced at the credit card, her eyes rounding. “Dr. Gates! I’m a huge fan of your show. Please, can I get a picture with you?”
She held out her phone, because of course the answer was yes. Fans were part of the gig, and as the producers of The Science of Seduction funneled millions of dollars into Dante’s bank account to host it, he couldn’t really complain. But secretly, he hated nearly everything about the show.
Money was nice, he could not deny it, but he missed real science. The kind that made a difference in the way people understood the known universe. Helping a guy hook up didn’t amount to a whole lot in the grand scheme of things, no matter how good Dante was at his job. Science had long been his refuge when the rest of the world didn’t care, yet he’d abandoned his roots for sensationalism.
He let the cashier fawn over him as much as she wanted because fans had made him a celebrity, and he did not take that for granted. Harper watched with no small amount of amusement.
Finally, he extracted himself from the cashier and the newsstand, handing Harper the bag of candy. “Sorry about that. Comes with the territory.”
With a snort, Harper grinned. “Are you kidding? That was awesome. I rarely get a chance to see you being Dr. Sexy. Due compensation for losing your attention.”
He matched her grin. “I have to live up to my tag line.”
Dr. Dante Gates Brings Sexy To Science. That line had graced magazine covers, promo for his show, you name it. Never in a million years would Dante have assumed that agreeing to host a show about how to use science to attract a lover would mean he’d become the poster boy. Of course, he had positioned himself as an expert in the subject. He should have realized women would come out of the woodwork to beg him to test his theories on them.
The attention flattered him. At first. He was only human. The field research alone made the women worth his time, and he’d long ago acknowledged that being abandoned by his birth mom to foster care had created a craving for acceptance and connection. It wasn’t a crime. The real travesty was that not one of the truly inventive and quite beautiful women had eclipsed his attraction to Harper.
Because she was the only one he couldn’t have. Probably.
Harper rolled her eyes as they arrived at the baggage claim area for her flight. “You don’t need to appear shirtless in a dish soap commercial to be sexy, silly. Your brain is the most attractive thing about you.”
Something about her smile caught him sideways and he nearly did a double take. He’d let her reference to Dr. Sexy roll off because…well, that was part of his TV persona. But now this. Was she flirting with him?
Interesting. Had these nuances been there before and had he missed them in his struggle to keep his thoughts about Harper in the friend zone?
After all, she’d just admitted she found him attractive, which he liked far more than he should. What if she’d been shooting him subtle signals this whole time, hoping he’d make a move? She probably thought he was blind. This impromptu trip to LA might have been solely designed to correct his vision.
With that in mind, he guided her to a secluded spot in the very back of baggage claim, between two dark, locked offices. The milling people around them were focused on the stationary carousel, which meant he had Harper all to himself for a few minutes. At least until luggage started arriving.
“Hey, in case you’ve forgotten, scientists are not known for their six-packs,” he murmured and leaned in, eliminating the space between them. “I worked hard to put on muscle after spending so many years hunched over pages of equations. If someone wants to pay me to take my shirt off, I’m not going to say no.”
All this talk of shedding clothes had set off serious sparks. Did she feel them, too?
She blinked as she looked up at him, her smile slipping a touch. Her tongue darted out to drag across her lips and he followed it pointedly with his gaze, then shifted back to her eyes. The heat in her cheeks mirrored the flare in his gut as he let the moment drag out.
Would wonders never cease? She was feeling it.
Maybe she’d clued in that he was a hot property. Not that he’d let any of his press go to his head. But come on. Women flocked to him. Empirical evidence suggested there was something about his spiky brown hair, horn-rimmed glasses and fit body that they liked.
It was way past time to get his inconvenient attraction to Harper worked out. If he’d read her wrong, they’d laugh about it and go on. He’d prove there was nothing here other than a healthy appreciation for a great woman. The electricity in the atmosphere and the heightened sense of anticipation was nothing more than the product of his imagination.
Without taking his gaze from hers, he reached out and traced the line of her jaw. Not as a friend. Not companionably. But with intent.
“What are you doing?” she asked as a line appeared between her brows. “This isn’t… I mean—we’re not…”
“Haven’t you ever been curious?” he interjected smoothly. “About what it would be like between us?”
“Be like? What what would be like?” Her eyes widened as his meaning must have registered.
There was still time to backpedal if taking things up a notch ended up being the worst idea ever conceived, but that window of opportunity rapidly shrank the longer they stood here in this blanket of awareness.
“I’ve thought about it. A lot,” he continued, since she hadn’t pulled away and hadn’t fled in horror. “No time like the present to find out.”
Before logic could kick in and remind him of all the reasons this could go south, he sank his hands into Harper’s soft red curls, spread his fingers across the back of her head and tipped it up. Slowly—because he wanted to give his body plenty of time to soak in the lesson to be learned here—he lowered his lips to Harper’s and claimed them in a sweet kiss.
Which instantly caught fire. Heat erupted where they’d joined, sensitizing him, claiming him. Harper flowed through him, waking up his blood.
And that’s when he realized his mistake—one kiss and all he’d proven was that he was not done. Not even close.
Dante was kissing her.
Shock opened Harper’s mouth without her permission and he took it as an invitation, swirling his tongue forward to find hers and oh, my God.
The sensations overwhelmed her and all she could do was cling to his shoulders. She’d meant to push him away. She didn’t do this, not with Dante, not with any man. And then she wasn’t pushing him away because wow.
The chemical reactions firing off inside her body were fascinating, amazing. Unprecedented. She wanted more. That was the most shocking thing of all because normally she avoided this sort of contact.
Her lips tingled as he reshaped them. Little pulls in her abdomen increased the urgency and she leaned into him, her hands drifting from his shoulders to his back. Hard. Strong. He felt good under her palms and she dipped lower, eliciting a groan from deep in his chest. It vibrated her own, teasing her breasts, and that’s when she realized their torsos were touching.
That sculpted chest was pressed up against hers. Dante was kissing her and she was kissing him. In the airport. Oh, God. This was all wrong. What was she doing?
She sprang back, wrenching away, and he followed for a half second until he realized she’d stopped. Hugging the wall behind her and legs shaking, she stared at the man who had been her best friend for a decade.