“Who am I to argue with the world's best patient?” James shrugged in faux modesty and lifted his glass to his lips. Quincy glared at the man and flicked his finger up. The glass tipped and orange juice splattered down his neck and chest. Quincy smirked. Score!
“Oh no!” Carissa jumped to grab some towels while James tried to mop up the spill with the napkins already on the table. Quincy twirled his finger so the juice kept multiplying even though the glass was on the table. How attractive would Carissa find a man who appeared to wet his pants?
Carissa didn't hand James the towels like he’d expected. Instead, she wiped him up herself. Quincy frowned and stopped the flow. He hadn't seen that coming. Something was amiss. Her cheeks were all pink and she was biting her lip. She kept her eyes glued to his chest while her hand smoothed over the contours of his pectorals and down over his taut belly then back up again. Her touch had turned into more of a caress.
“Cara?” James's voice sounded all husky. Carissa leaned forward the tiniest bit. So did James.
They were going to kiss. Quincy couldn't have that.