“What,” she asked somewhat defensively. “You’ve never seen me laugh before?”

“Not since…”

“Since what?”

“Since we played strip poker and I lost.”

Oh, boy, was that night imprinted on her brain. Her car had broken down. He’d taken her home, and then come in for a quick drink, and somehow he’d charmed her into playing a game of cards. Being a card master, she’d readily agreed, then scammed him, conning him right out of his clothes just out of curiosity.

Beneath his EMT uniform, he’d been hiding a sensual delight of long, lean muscle, and she’d gone from curious to aroused in zero point four.

They’d slept together that night. Even now her body tingled as it remembered, but she lifted her chin. “I laughed because you had SpongeBob SquarePants on your boxers.”

He didn’t look embarrassed but amused. That was the thing about Dustin, he was comfortable in his own skin. “It was laundry day, and my mom bought me those boxers.”

They’d made her hot. Another wave splashed over their toes and Dustin sucked in a harsh breath, backing up in surrender. “Okay, you win,” he said. “You’re the cool kid. Now can we go in?”

“I don’t want to go in.”

“What do you want?”

She let out a low laugh that inadvertently exposed her misery, and he shifted to face her, putting a hand on her arm. “Are you getting a migraine?”

Yeah, he knew her. Really knew her. And worse, he cared. Goddamm him. “No. Are you wearing SpongeBob SquarePants now?”

The corner of his mouth quirked. “Not telling.” He stroked a rogue strand of hair from her forehead, letting his finger trail over her temple, the rim of her ear.

She shivered and surrendered, as well, stepping into him. “Dustin…”

For a brief moment, his other hand came up, brushing down her back, settling low on her spine. He turned his face into hers, letting the tip of his nose run along her jaw, his mouth brush the underside of her throat lightly before he sighed and went to step back.