Kate Hoffmann - The Mighty Quinns - Dylan

She was thankful their roles weren’t reversed for if he felt her heart racing, he’d know exactly how his touch had affected her. “That feels good.”

He smiled down at her. “You should be more careful,” he murmured, his gaze drifting lazily over her features. He stopped at her lips and she held her breath. For a moment, she was sure that if she closed her eyes and tipped her head up, he’d kiss her.

But then he chuckled softly, and pulled the ice from her hand. “Let see here,” he said, carefully examining the skin just below her wrist. “It’s a little red but no blistering. I think you’ll be all right.” He drew her hand up to his lips and pressed a cool kiss on her flaming skin.

Stunned, Meggie yanked her hand away as if she’d been burned all over again. He was teasing her, taking advantage of her nervousness when he was near. Dylan Quinn knew exactly how he made her feel and he was using it against her. “Please, don’t do that,” she murmured. She snatched the ice from his hands and drew a ragged breath. “I’ll just go get your jacket and then you can be on your way.”

Dylan stared at her for a long moment, then shrugged indifferently. “I’ll get it another time,” he said, stepping around the end of the counter. He looked back once. “I’ll see you around, Meggie Flanagan.” With that, he strode toward the door.

She fought the urge to run after him, to order him to stay away from her coffee shop and out of her life. But instead, all she could manage to do was admire the wide shoulders hidden beneath his leather jacket and the narrow hips accented by his jeans. He stepped through the door and a soft sigh slipped from her lips.

“I am such a coward,” she murmured. She’d wanted to accept his invitation to dinner and she’d wanted his kiss to drift from her wrist, up her arm, to her mouth. She wasn’t that same clumsy girl that she’d been thirteen years ago. She was a woman, now, almost thirty years old, and only occasionally clumsy. And most men even considered her pretty. She was smart and well-read and always felt that given the right man, she could be a sparkling conversationalist.

Yet the prospect of getting to know Dylan Quinn frightened her. Whenever he was near she reverted to that insecure and anxious teenager. Meggie groaned then pressed her forehead against the cool copper counter. If she’d only been able to think straight, maybe she could have done something once and for all, to even the score between them.

She imagined a wonderfully romantic dinner with witty repartee. He’d fall madly in love with her in just one night and then she’d oh-so casually tell him that she wasn’t really interested in a relationship. Or maybe she’d allow him to kiss her and he would experience an instant passion for her before she walked away.

Another groan slipped from her lips. This whole incident only proved one point. She was not the kind of woman who could handle a man like Dylan Quinn. So she had only one choice—she needed to stay as far away from him as possible.

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