Okay, he was beyond too good to be true. And he was talking just like her friends, all about fated meetings and meant to be. She didn’t even know this guy.
But she wanted to know him. If she was being truthful, she really wanted to spend more time with him. Maybe kiss him. Feel those firm lips on hers, those big, strong hands sliding all over her body. His arms sliding around her waist and crushing her to him…
“Do you believe in fate?” If he answered yes, she’d bolt. It was too freaky.
He shook his head. “Not really.”
She smiled. “Then we’ll get along just fine.”
“I probably should’ve suggested somewhere different.” Evan glanced about the crowded bar and grill, wincing when a large group whooped and hollered at whatever just went down on the TV. It was a sports bar, ironically enough and a Lakers game was playing on the many TVs mounted on the walls.
They were surrounded by fans dressed in purple and gold. Evan preferred watching football. Hell, he used to play it in high school. Basketball—he enjoyed the playoffs but didn’t much watch the regular season.
And he wasn’t a Lakers fan. Making such a confession would probably get him drawn and quartered among this mob of fanatics.
“No, this is great.” S
he smiled and sipped from her glass of beer, a bit of foam still sticking to her lip when she set the glass down. The urge to lean over and wipe it away with his thumb was overwhelming.
Would she freak if he tried to lick it away with his tongue?
Yeah, probably.
“You have…” He pointed to his upper lip and she cocked her head in question. Carefully she dabbed her slender fingers to her lip and her cheeks flushed. With an embarrassed giggle she grabbed a napkin and wiped away the lingering foam.
“I guess you can’t take me anywhere.” Her eyes sparkled and she reached for the plate of nachos that sat between them. Grabbing a loaded chip, she shoved it in her mouth, her eyes closing as she murmured an inarticulate sound of bliss. “So good.”
That pleasurable sound went straight to his dick. Watching her eat, his head spun a little. When she laughed, his chest felt tight, like his heart might explode. He had it bad.
And he never had it bad.
He still couldn’t believe his luck when he saw her in the hospital parking lot. He’d approached her without thinking, not about to let her get away from him again. Not after he’d spent the last few days wandering around in a lust-induced fog, his thoughts constantly filled with images of her.
She was like the one that got away, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling that sort of regret over a woman before. Hell, he’d even dreamed of her, the way she’d looked at him when he and Wes pulled her out of the ambulance and wheeled her into the hospital. The panic, the vulnerability in her gaze, as if she needed him.
Normally, he steered clear of needy women. With his job keeping him so busy, he preferred someone independent, someone who could go on without him if he had to work a long stretch.
This was why he didn’t have serious relationships. He wasn’t one to stick around. It was…hard, sticking around. With women, he liked it easy.
What he was feeling at this particular moment didn’t seem easy. It was like a whirlwind, smacking him in the chest, hitting him everywhere. He’d been with her for approximately forty five minutes.
He was already plotting how he could get her in his arms.
In his bed.
They sat on stools at a tall table located dead center in the bar. The noise was deafening, the TVs blaring, the crowd cheering and laughing and chattering nonstop. The waitresses ran to and fro, carrying pitchers of overflowing beer high above their heads. It was complete chaos.
Morgan sat quietly amid the chaos, pretty and fresh, her dark hair pulled into a ponytail. She devoured chip after chip, washing it down with sips of beer. He liked that she hadn’t balked over beer and nachos. More than a few prissy dates of his past would’ve wrinkled their noses at such a suggestion.
This woman seemed real.
“How long have you been a paramedic?” She yelled the question to be heard over the din.
“Six years.” He’d gone to college, thinking originally he wanted to be a cop but realized it wasn’t for him. He’d considered being a doctor, but the endless schooling and enormous cost had stopped him cold.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it. It’s hard work and even harder hours, but I wouldn’t want to do anything else.”