Too late.
Okay, she was beyond turned on. The pressure between her legs was unbearable, her nipples so hard they could cut glass, her breathing completely off-kilter.
Enough. She couldn’t keep letting herself respond to this man. Seth was a bad boy to the core. He did what he wanted, when he wanted. He had no sense of decency, no filter that monitored the sarcastic or overtly sexual remarks that came out of his mouth. He wore all black and smoked cigarettes and never shaved. In other words—he was trouble.
And sure, that air of danger he radiated would have turned her on when she was a teenager, but guess what, it was the last thing she wanted nowadays. She’d already thrown her life away for one dangerous bad boy—and she’d gotten knocked up at eighteen as a reward.
The memory of Trent was all it took to banish her rising desire.
Squaring her shoulders, she pushed his hand off her waist and took a step backward. “What you want makes no difference,” she said quietly. “I won’t get involved with you, Seth.”
Resignation fluttered across his face. “What’s your reason this time?”
She set her jaw defiantly. “Same one it always is. I’m a mom.”
When he blanched slightly at the M-word, she let out a wry laugh. Oh, for Pete’s sake, why hadn’t she just led with that instead of letting this conversation drag on for far longer than necessary?
In the four months she’d known Seth, he hadn’t shown the slightest interest in her kids, and if the subject did happen to come up, he usually donned a blank look and acted indifferent to everything she said. She didn’t know why, but for Seth, children seemed to be on par with root canals and canine fashion shows, both of which he’d expressed extreme dislike for.
“I don’t have time to fool around with you,” she went on. “Or anyone, for that matter. Between raising two six-year-olds, working five days a week at the studio and part-time here at the bar, I barely have time to read the paper, let alone have sex.”
To her aggravation, Seth grinned. “That just proves how much you need me.”
“Oh really?”
“If reading a newspaper takes priority over having sex, then clearly you’ve never had your world rocked.”
“I don’t need any rocking in my world. I get motion sickness.” She laced up her sneakers, then headed for the door.
He trailed after her. “Fine, I’ll let this go. If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” A rush of relief flooded her belly. Thank God. Fighting off Seth’s advances the past few months had been much harder than she’d ever admit.
“Don’t look so happy.” He smirked. “I meant I’d let it go for tonight.”
Crap. She should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.
Seth blocked her path before she could open the door, running a hand through his messy hair. His hair was short, but definitely not the military cut every man in San Diego seemed to have. Black locks often fell onto his forehead and curled behind his ears, and she couldn’t count the number of times her fingers had tingled with the urge to smooth back those unruly strands.
“When’s your next shift?” he asked.
“Monday.”
“Eight to close?”
It didn’t surprise her that he knew the exact time of her shift. God knew he came to the club often enough.
“Hey, I have an idea,” she said with a big fake smile. “Maybe you can go somewhere else on Monday. The Tavern or the Sand Bar, maybe Hot Zone—ooh, there’s this new club on 4th that you might like. I heard it attracts a lot of loose young women looking for a good time…”
When she flashed him a how-awesome-is-that look, he simply laughed it off. “I’m not looking for a random lay. Trust me, if I wanted to get laid?” He lowered his voice to a smoky pitch and snapped his fingers. “I could get laid just like that. But see, that’s not what I’m after.”
A sigh lodged in her chest. “What are you after, Seth?”
“You.”
Equal parts arousal and irritation pleaded for her attention. Ignoring both, she released her breath and crossed her arms over her chest. Seth’s gaze immediately rested on her cleavage, more pronounced now that her pose was pushing her breasts up. She promptly let her arms dangle to her sides.
“I don’t have time to play games with you,” she muttered. “I have too much on my plate at the moment, and even if I wasn’t busy, I still wouldn’t say yes. I’m a mother, first and foremost. My kids are my life.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not asking you to put the rugrats up for adoption, Miranda.”