Am I really going to kiss her? Here in the middle of the aisle? A complete stranger, at her place of work?
I don’t even know if she wants to be kissed.
That does it. A cold, hard taste of reality. Here I am, pouring all my interest in this woman who clearly thinks I have no soul, whatsoever. It can’t be all my imagination. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I’m not imagining the way she looks at me, like she’s ready to devour me with the same hunger I have for her.
But now is not the time. I’m not even sure when the right time would be.
I release the ticket, release her. A splash of cool air sweeps over me. It knocks me back like a punch to the stomach. What am I doing?
“The order will be ready by Sunday,” she says weakly, her voice noticeably shaking.
“Thanks.” I nod and move back toward the entrance of the store.
Blood rushes to my ears like a roaring flood. I quicken my steps and relish in the splash of cold air that hits my face when I exit.
I might be in trouble.
Sunday. That’s in three days. Three days to come up with a new approach. Three days to make a new first impression.
Just enough time to figure out how to make her mine.
Chapter Three
Aly
Iwander through the garden center.
The air wraps around me like a warm blanket, thick and dry despite being the middle of January. The cloying scent of some distant flower reaches my nose, but I can’t define it. Lavender, maybe? Rose? I’m not sure.
I continue down the rows lined with yellow and orange marigolds, past the open spaces peppered with alternating alyssum and snapdragons. It’s uncommonly quiet today. I don’t even see any of my coworkers, or even my floor manager, wandering the aisles.
Am I alone? This doesn’t feel right.
I turn around, and he’s there. The man from the other night. The nameless customer who doesn’t have time for charity cases like myself.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. Why does my voice sound like that? Why does everything feel so strange, and yet...perfect.
“I came to see you,” he says, and I feel the low rumble of his voice echo in the pit of my stomach. “I came to apologize.”
“There’s no need to apologize,” I say, my heartbeat quickening as he takes a step toward me. I was foolish and haughty. I let my pride be wounded by a man who couldn’t possibly have known any better. He had clearly been given everything he had ever wanted in life.
Only now, what it looks like what he wants is me.
The distance between us dissolves. He’s so close I can feel his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. My hands draw lazy circles over his collarbone, creeping downward to enjoy the rough sinew beneath my palms.
Every bit as perfect as I imagined.
He’s a Greek god in Burberry and imported leather shoes. The faint scent of warm sandalwood musk and citrus tickles my nose. He smells of exotic spices, of luxurious comforts and danger. I want to feel more, his hands on my hips, undressing me. His mouth worshiping my body like the virgin sacrifice before an altar.
His hand caresses my cheek, and a stream of molten fire winds its way down my chest. My breasts tingle with anticipation. His long fingers dive into the tousled red strands of hair surrounding my face. The pad of his thumb strokes my lower lip, and I part my mouth in a sigh.
“Kiss me,” I say. “Why hesitate?”
The way he did the first time we met.
Did it matter that we hardly know each other? Did it matter that I had just questioned his dedication to the plight of the common man? He had looked damn near ready to devour me on the spot despite it all, and – heaven help me – I would have let him.
His lips claim mine.