Page 39 of King of Deception

“If I can afford them, why not?”

“And what does he bring to the table?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Then, by all means, kill the joke.”

Staring into his beautiful eyes, I prayed that he wasn’t serious. It was difficult to imagine that a man like him didn’t know how much he had to offer. He was agonizingly handsome, strong, intelligent, and a great conversationalist. I also had the feeling that he was talented in more ways than he was willing to admit. It was one thing being humble, but he bordered on self-deprecation, and I didn’t like that color on him.

“Did your mother marry your father for money?” I finally asked.

“No,” he quickly shook his head. “They were in love.”

“Did she ever tell you what drew her to him?”

“The usual things. He was handsome. She enjoyed talking to him—”

“Did he make her feel safe?”

His eyes narrowed as they pierced through mine. “She didn’t put it that way,” he said slowly. “But I’m sure he did.”

“Why?” I challenged him with a smile.

“If I were to guess? It’s his Greek blood.”

“What?” I chuckled, “No way! Your dad has Greek origins?”

Nodding, he scratched the back of his head. “He’s… he grew up in Athens, actually. He moved here for college.”

“That explains it!” I continued to grin, letting my eyes scandalously scan him as if stripping off his clothes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You.” I pointed with my hand. “Look at you!”

He laughed, looking away. I thought I had caught a glimpse of shyness, but I knew I was wrong. The stunning waiter must have been used to the unabashed flirtations of drunk socialites everywhere that what I said should count for nothing.

“I’m serious,” I insisted, and he turned back to face me. “And if you wanna know…” I lowered my voice, allowing it to reflect the seriousness of my confession, “I feel really safe with you. I can’t remember the last time that happened.”

His fingers—ever so gently—landed on my cheek, brushing away my hair and tucking it behind my ear. “Dammit, Ella,” he whispered before inching closer, kissing me softly.

Once again, the flood of feelings that overtook me every time I was in his arms came in a flash.

His hands were behind my back, pressing me closer as the world grew warmer. With my eyes closed, I tasted his cherry lips that complimented my vanilla ones ever so nicely. Together, we were lost in a medley of sensations that kept reminding me… nothing could hurt me in his embrace.

Damned was the melting ice cream. Damned were the prying eyes under the scorching sun. Damned was everything, as long as he was kissing me.

When we eventually let the distance between us grow once again, I inhaled as deliberately and unhurriedly as I possibly could. His finger wiped my lower lip, and he chortled with a low voice. “I hope you have that lipstick on you.”

I tittered, licking my lips, suddenly aware of my surroundings. “I do.”

“Or better yet,” he whispered, his eyes filled with desire. “Play hooky. Spend the rest of the day with me.”

“I can’t. The meeting?”

Sharply exhaling, he slowly shook his head. “You never answered me, you know.”

“About what?”

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