Free English Girl in New York by Scarlet Wilson Page B

before? Had she really seemed so unapproachable? So caught up in her own world?
    She watched as he looked in his cupboards, trying to find something to eat. Eventually he pulled some glasses and a bottle of soda from the cupboard. She could see the taut muscles across his back through his thin T-shirt. She tried not to stare at the outline of his behind in the well-worn jeans.
    Her eyes automatically went downwards. Would he look at her the same way? Maybe she should have given some more thought to what she was wearing.
    â€˜I see you’ve finally got some clothes on.’
    She gave a little smile as she walked over and sat down at the table. ‘I didn’t really have time to think earlier. I don’t often roam around strange men’s apartments in my nightclothes.’
    â€˜You don’t?’ He had a gleam in his eyes. He was trying to lighten the mood. Ease the stress they were both under. ‘Is your apartment cold upstairs? You were bundled up like you live in an igloo.’
    She took a sip of the soda he’d just poured for her. ‘No. It was comfort clothes. I was freezing when I got in—I ruined my suede boots walking in that mucky slush. My raincoat was covered in muddy splatters and all I could think about was getting inside, heating up and eating myself silly.’
    He tilted his head as he sat down. In this dim light in the kitchen he had really dark brown eyes. Comforting kind of eyes. The kind you could lose yourself in.
    â€˜And what does eating yourself silly involve?’
    She shrugged. ‘Chocolate. In all varieties. Macaroni cheese. Grilled bagels with melted cheese. Porridge. Pancakes.’ She pointed towards the ceiling. ‘I bought some stuff at Mr Meltzer’s before I came home. I was worried I’d be stuck inside for a few days with no comfort foods.’ She gave him a grin and shook her head. ‘Believe me, that would not be pretty.’
    He eyed her closely, the smell of pizza starting to fill the apartment. ‘And would you be willing to share some of your stash?’
    Her smile widened. The atmosphere was changing between them. They were going from frantic neighbours to something else entirely. Were they flirting here? Was that what was happening? It had been so long for Carrie she wasn’t sure she remembered how.
    She rested her elbows on the table, sitting her head in her hands. ‘Oh, I don’t know about sharing. I might be willing to trade.’
    â€˜Aha, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.’
    â€˜What does that mean?’
    The gleam wasn’t disappearing; in fact, if it was possible, it was getting naughtier. ‘You come down here with your innocent smiles, woolly socks and grandma pyjamas—not forgetting an abandoned baby—with your tales of a huge pirate haul of comfort foods upstairs, and now you’re trying to hold me to ransom.’ He leaned back in his chair and tapped the surface of the table. ‘You’re not really a grandma-pyjamas girl, are you? That was all just a ruse—you’re really a sexy negligee kind of girl.’ He lifted his hand and tapped his chin. ‘The question is, what colour?’
    She could feel her cheeks start to pink up. She hadn’t been imagining it. He was flirting with her. And the thing that amazed her—or terrified her—was she wanted to flirt right back. Could she trade her bagels for a kiss?
    Wow. That thought made the blood rush into her cheeks. ‘What’s wrong with grandma pyjamas? They hide a multitude of sins.’
    He didn’t hesitate. ‘You don’t have any sins to hide.’
    She felt her breath stall. She couldn’t breathe in. She definitely couldn’t breathe out. She was stuck in that no man’s land. He’d said it so quickly. He didn’t even have to think about it twice.
    What did that mean?
    She made a vague attempt to laugh it off—feeling like a nervous teenager instead of