Page 8 of Not Mine to Keep

“Food?” I reminded him, directing him toward the smells wafting our way.

He smiled, but it felt a bit forced, compared with the way he’d dazzled me back by the bar. Instead of heading to the food stations, he tore a hand through his hair, simply observing me.

The man had Henry Cavill’s good looks and a thick head of hair, a slight wave to it. Not quite as dark as the actor’s, but more of a sun-kissed brown, and I had to resist the impulse to reach for the lock of hair that caressed his forehead.

Also, without a beard, it was easy to see the chiseled definition of his chin and jawline. The man rocked clean-shaven as well as I’d rock a pair of Jimmy Choos if I could ever afford them. I mean, I did have great legs, or so I’d been told.

“You okay?” I finally unfolded my arms, unsure why he was still staring at me, unmoving.

He blinked, then looked over my shoulder toward the food, so I took that as my cue to walk again.

“What do you recommend we eat?” he asked, and his dark tone slid right under my dress.

“Aw, so you do remember how to speak. I was worried you were tongue-tied.” I spun back around, but he was so close I bumped into him and my hands collided with his chest.

And oh, what a chest.I gulped, staring at my manicured nails where they rested over his suit jacket.You really are the Man of Steel’s Italian doppelganger, huh?Ever so slowly, I dragged my eyes up to his face, and a pained expression greeted me.

“Sorry.” I attempted a smile, certain it wasn’t one of my best ones. Nerves and all. Not that I really got nervous. Hell, I dealt with teenagers daily who gave The Asshole and his men a run for their money from time to time. Handling some guy who had aBfor the start of his net worth and devastating good looks shouldn’t have had my heart skipping any beats whatsoever. “You asked for food recommendations, right?”You did, didn’t you?

He nodded, eyes still pinned to mine, and I had to swallow again and physically force myself to back up and drop my hands from his chest.

Facing the line of food, I began walking by the stations, reading the little placards identifying the options as if he couldn’t do it himself. “I’d suggest the smoked aged pork belly medallions with sweet barbecue glaze. But if you’re into something a little healthier, and I think you are”—judging by your superfit-looking body—“the seared ahi tuna.” I whipped around, and there he was, dangerously close.

“And what will you eat?” Somehow those five words and the sexy, deep tone of his voice curled in the air like ribbons and tied me all up.

“I can’t eat, or this dress will have to come off.” I closed my eyes, replaying my words and how they sounded. “This dress is too tight for me to dare eat in, I mean.”

He leaned in to dip his mouth to my ear but didn’t touch me, which both bummed me out and made me feel respected, all at the same time. “I think I’ll skip eating then, too.”

“You sure?” I whispered as he eased back, our faces so close it wouldn’t take much for us to kiss.

“I’m absolutely certain.” He stood tall, offering me space to breathe and to not sink into the feeling of desire that I hadn’t realized I was so desperate to swim in until tonight. I hadn’t exactly dated recently, ever since The Asshole had decided to have me watched while also sending potential suitors my way.

“Well then, maybe we should look at the items we can bid on?” I suggested, threading my fingers together, wishing I had a bracelet on to fiddle with instead.

“Sure.” Another polite hand opened. Another offer to lead the way. So I did.

We quietly headed over to the items up for auction, and I zeroed in on what I wanted to win but knew I didn’t have a shot in Hades of doing. “She’s a beauty.” I ran one of my freshly manicured nails over the glass case, admiring the multicolored, special-edition Martin 5-18. “This guitar was owned and signed by the legend herself.” I sighed, reached for the pen, and scribbled down my information as well as the most I could afford to bid. I tucked the paper into the wooden box displayed by the glass case. “Do you know Doll—”

“Even I know her.” A touch of humor caressed his tone, and it was even sexier than the dark rasp from earlier.

Mmm. Maybe you were sent by angels, not the devil incarnate?When I swiveled back his way, I remembered my research about him and the fact he’d always had a different woman on his arm in every photo I’d seen online.Not an angel. An Italian Casanova.Maybe one hot night was just what I needed, though? I nearly rolled my eyes at the ridiculous idea of having meaningless sex. It wasn’t my thing. Never would be. I wanted intimacy in bed and breakfast the next day, not to wake up alone.Now would be the time to abort, before he sucks me in with those eyes again and I find myself okay with living in the land of Delulu.

“Maybe I should go mingle now? I’m here to get people to donate. I’m a volunteer, not a guest.”

“So getmeto donate. Then you’re still doing your job.” He motioned toward the painting encased in glass alongside the guitar. “What about this? You think it’d look good in my—”

“Penthouse in Manhattan?”

He casually looked at me over his shoulder, and I remembered Mr. City Slicker had never told me where he was from. That info was all from the crash course a friend gave me in how to “go FBI” on a guy.

“Just assuming.” My turn to fake a smile. “You know, they never did identify the couple in that photo. Many people claimed to be them, but it’s still a mystery.” The watercolor painting was a recreation of the iconic sailor kissing a nurse, shot in 1945 in Times Square. “I do love a good mystery, though,” I added when he wrote down an obscene amount along with his full name and phone number.

He folded the bid up and placed it inside the box while turning toward me, and I clapped my hands together.

“Mission success. I must be good at my job since you just bid half of what we’re trying to raise in total tonight,” I teased, but my heart was colliding with my rib cage at seeing that number written out, and so casually.

“I guess I need to find something else to bid on so you meet your goal, and so I can steal you away to talk for the rest of the night.”

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