She bit her bottom lip as though considering the problem. “We could just do the other stuff. You want to lay all the cards on the table? I find you very attractive and I wouldn’t mind some stress relief. I haven’t had a sexual partner in over a year.”

Wouldn’t that be easy for her? “Does the incredibly smart doctor not want to spend too much time with the blue-collar guy?”

She frowned at him. “I’m a nurse practitioner and I don’t have problems with blue-collar guys. I grew up poor. I think the incredibly sexy sheriff will figure out I’m stubborn and difficult and not likely to change. I thought I should get some sex out of it before he realizes he’s not going to like me.”

His whole body heated up. Oh, nothing was going to happen because he wasn’t about to let the gorgeous big-city lady use him for sex, but his hopes had shot way up. “I think you’re going to have to risk that.”

Her chin came up, a stubborn glint hitting her eyes. “And if I don’t want to take the risk?”

“Then we’ll try to work well together. How about we run a test? Why don’t you kiss me and see if you think it’s worth the risk?”

“You want me to kiss you?”

“More than I want my next breath.”

“I’m not very . . .” She huffed and seemed to come to a decision. “All right.”

•   •   •

She’d been ready to explain to him that she wasn’t all that great at the sex stuff. But damn it, she could learn. All of her life she’d had to study. She wasn’t as smart as the rest of her siblings. They seemed to breeze through school, but she’d had to buckle down and really study to get the same good grades they took for granted.

She might not be good at sex, but she could change that. She could study and practice.

Was she about to kiss Armie LaVigne? Just the day before she’d kind of wanted to smash his handsome face. Except she really hadn’t. Even when the man had given her a ticket, she’d wanted to know how it felt to have those sensual lips on hers. He was right. There was something between them, something she’d never felt before with any man.

Chemistry.

She’d kind of thought that was a myth, something women told other women to explain their utterly illogical attractions. Nope. Here it was, tugging at her every instinct, drugging her good sense.

She moved into his space. He was wearing plaid pajama pants and a plain white T-shirt. He shouldn’t look sexy, but he did.

Was she supposed to go up on her toes to kiss him? Or wait for him to make a move? What was she doing? She didn’t need this entanglement.