“For you to be more on guard for one thing. And as bossy as you were at first. You know, a typical reporter.”

She smiled. “First appearances are rarely accurate.”

“I don’t know.” He smiled back. “I called you for nosy, too. And you’re definitely that.”

“I was nosy long before I was a reporter.” The shower room was clean but a little dark and damp. It felt humid and musky.

Intimate.

Pace pulled on his pants and buttoned up his shirt. He slipped his hand in his opened waistband to do a half-assed tucking in of his shirt, which seemed to further rev her engine.

She was out of control.

Completely. Out. Of. Control.

“Are you . . . blushing?” he asked, and with a curious light in his eyes, stopped tucking. “Yeah. You are.”

And possibly drooling again, too. And as if all that wasn’t enough, he smelled amazing. “I’m not.”

He traced a finger over her cheekbone. “And lying.” He tsked softly, his gaze dipping over her face. “Thought you never lied.”

“I—” She broke off when the pad of that finger, calloused and very warm, slid over her throat, stopping at the very base where she imagined her pulse was drumming out of control. Suddenly, she felt extremely aware that his pants were unfastened. “Pace, I . . . I’m—” She let out a breath and shook her head.

He was still looking at her, his expression almost grave. “You’re attracted to me.”

“Which is obviously a mistake.” She wrapped her fingers around his forearm to pull his hand away from her, but he shook his head and stepped closer.

“I’m attracted back, Holly.”

She went still, then tipped her head up at him.

“Yeah.” A small smile curved his lips. “And I’m no more happy about it than you are.”

Her own accelerated breathing echoed in her ears, an admission that maybe she wasn’t so unhappy about it.

His smile faded. Slowly, he shifted so that they were brushed up against each other, and though she hadn’t been the one to walk around without pants, she felt exposed.

Raw.

And more than a little wary.

Especially since he didn’t want to be attracted, and knowing it had an old insecurity rising to the surface, the one stemming from always having to push for what she wanted, and damn if she wasn’t more than a little tired of that. Someday, just once, she wanted a man to push for her. “Well, you could just ignore . . . this,” she said. “I’m sure that will help—”

Snagging her wrist, he pulled her back around, closer now in the dimly lit room.

“Pace—”

“Shh a second.” Hand low on her back, he dipped his head so that their lips were only a fraction of an inch apart.

Oh God.

“Maybe,” he whispered huskily, his gaze locked on her mouth. “Maybe there’d be no real chemistry.”