“Yes. Pay-Lee-Oh.” The woman’s tone was scathing, and she tilted her beautiful face at the handsome man with a look of sarcastic derision.
“I’m sorry, I’m not …” Mortified, Emily shook her head. “I don’t know. I can find out for you.”
“Forget about it.” The blonde turned to her attention to another friend. “What kind of person doesn’t know about paleo?”
What kind of person indeed, Sabato thought, a spark of curiosity driving him to look more closely at this woman. She was small and slight, with shining auburn hair, bright blue eyes and a perfect rose bud mouth.
Definitely not his usual type.
Definitely fascinating.
Emily stood on the fringe of the group for a second and then realised she’d been dismissed. She moved to turn away when he stalled her. “I’ll have one.” He shifted his body, turning his back to the group, effectively blocking Emily off from the rest of the room.
Up close, she could see so much more detail in his face. He wasn’t just big and muscular, he was warrior-like. Strong and powerful looking. He smelled of the ocean. Salty and masculine, warm and intense. He was sending her into awareness overdrive; every fibre of her being was pulsating at a strange frequency.
She lifted the tray a little higher, holding it almost as a barrier between them.
Sabato stared at the woman long and hard. Surrounded by actresses, models and heiresses, this waitress was singularly unique. It wasn’t just her looks, though she was very pretty. A true English Rose, with her shining hair, fair skin and oceanic blue eyes. Even her lips were a testament to that fragrant bloom, being soft and pink, with a natural fullness to them. His eyes held hers, and he felt something click inside of his chest. Desire, unmistakable, warmed his blood. Not just the hint of attraction, but a full-blown need that he knew himself to be incapable of ignoring.
“Are they good?” He asked, his voice deep and accented.
He had a cleft in his chin, as though an angel had pressed a thumb to it at the moment of his birth. He had a dimple too, concealed beneath his stubble, but Emily had seen it when he’d smiled earlier. It wasn’t fair that one man should have so many things in his favour. Tall, handsome, mysterious … he was, quite simply, extraordinary. “Good?” She was smiling at him. She could feel her mouth arching upwards, and she didn’t seem able to stop.
He grinned back, and nodded towards the platter. “The crab cakes.”
“Oh!” She blinked, her blue eyes like saucers in her face. “I’m sure they’re delicious.” She seemed to remember herself. To recognise that she was at work, and that he was a guest. She cleared her throat and stepped backwards a little. Just far enough to put some crucial distance between them.
If the man noticed or cared, he didn’t show it. He stayed exactly where he was. “Well then, if you are sure.” Oh, that accent. Like something out of a dream, so deep and husky; it sent spirals of wonder through her body and soul.
He reached forward and lifted a small savoury from the platter. He didn’t eat it though. His eyes seemed to be searching hers, as if looking for something that he didn’t immediately understand.
Emily’s stomach churned. What was she doing? Standing there, staring at the most handsome man she’d ever seen, just because he was filling her very inexperienced mind with all sorts of fantasies? She shook her head, to try to clear them away, and smiled tightly. “Excuse me.”
“And if I won’t?” He murmured darkly, wanting to warm her cheeks and bring the fire back into her eyes.
“I’m sorry?” She scanned his face, her heart thumping in her chest.
“If I won’t excuse you?”
Emily pulled her fleshy lower lip between her teeth. A small line formed between her eyebrows, and out of nowhere, she wondered if hers were too thick, or too thin. She’d never paid much attention to them – except to pluck an errant hair from time to time. “Then you’ll have to keep eating fish cakes,” she pointed out, lifting the tray a little higher.
“What is your name?” His eyes dropped to her apron, and Emily’s heart turned over at the direction of his gaze. He was looking at the name embroidered on the material, but it was so close to the gentle swell of her chest that she felt her stomach roll. “ Agnes.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to correct him when something stilled her. It was a surreal moment. A fairy tale moment happening to someone else. Of all the women in the room, this handsome man was speaking to her. Flirting with her. But why?
A frown puckered at her lips again, and Emily’s mouth momentarily forgot that she was generally shy and reserved. “Do you make a habit of hitting on waitresses?”
It was so absurd that Sabato laughed. The rich, husky sound drew Emily’s focus back to his face. “No.”
She swallowed, chastened, and looked nervously towards the kitchen. “I should be getting back …”
Sabato had been hunting once in his life. He had deplored it. A man drawn to power in life had been revolted by exerting such dominance over weak beasts. Of preying on them from afar, and felling them with a far superior weapon than his own strength alone. Talking to this woman brought those sensations flooding back. Her inexperience was obvious, and yet he was exerting every skill at his disposal to keep her with him. Perhaps then, it was she who wielded the power, for he found himself unable to ignore the churn of desire she invoked.
“If I promise to eat every last thing on that tray, will you come with me?”
“Come with you?”
He leaned closer, and she caught a hint of his cologne. Her pulse raced; her veins were a torrent of raging lava. Closer still, until his lips were almost touching her cheek. “Yes.”