Page 10 of Crave Me

It’s a rhetorical question. But I swear to God, his eyes smoke hot enough to sizzle my panties and singe his initials into the silk. I think he catches himself, lowering his gaze, his skin flushing slightly. His somewhat shy-like response should give me a giggle and slap away all the naughty, but very nice thoughts are dancing through my head. Except I don’t laugh and I sure as anything don’t tame those wicked visuals. Not when his stare lifts and all I see is a pent up beast waiting to smash through that cage of pinstripes he’s trapped in.

The cuteness I first noticed about him is long gone. His sex appeal, on the other hand, remains front and center. In fact, one might say he’s waving that sex appeal like a flag while standing naked on the Rock of Gibraltar.

“What are you thinking?” I ask. Stupid question. But it beats asking if he wants to head back to my place so I can eat that cheesesteak off his bare chest.

“That out of all the dealerships, I’m glad I walked into yours.” He cocks his head to gauge my reaction, or maybe because he can hear my lady parts pounding like native drums following a long and lonely winter.

“I’m glad you did, too,” I say before I can stop myself.

He doesn’t respond, but it looks like he wants to. Sal beats him to it, yelling from the bar where he’s wiping down a beer mug with a rag. “Hey, Wren!” he calls. “When you going to get married and start popping out some babies? What are you? Twenty-eight now? You’re running out of time and eggs there, woman.”

Fighters need to be saved by the bell. I needed to be saved by Sal before me and Evan did something we’d both regret.

Seeing how this isn’t the first time Sal has busted on me and my ovaries, I barely blink. “When I’m good and ready, Sal. Be grateful Mina married your sorry ass before it started sagging and dragging across the floor.”

“Only ‘cause I lost a bet,” Mina mutters, stopping to my right. “You ready to order, Wrennie?”

She and Ma are the only people who call me that. “I’ll have the usual,” I tell her, turning to face her when I hand her my menu.

Mina tucks it against her side. It’s barely eleven and the lunch crowd is only now shuffling in, but already her curly blonde-ish hair is going in every direction. She wipes her hand on her black apron and motions to Evan. “How ‘bout your date?”

“He’s not my date,” I correct, knowing she’s fishing for details. “He’s a client.”

“Uh, huh,” she says.

Mina is one of my mother’s oldest friends, and because of it Ma’s going to be getting a call down in Florida the second Mina gets her hands on a phone. She’s well into her fifties like Ma, but not blind to a fine-looking man when she sees one.

You might say Evan is a fine-looking man.

You might even say he has a nice ass. ‘Cause hell, I’m not blind either and yeah, I noticed when he shrugged out of his coat and jacket.

Evan doesn’t notice the attention he’s getting from Mina or me, too busy darting his eyes across the menu. “I apologize, but I’m afraid I haven’t yet decided.”

“Want me to order for you?” I offer, knowing there’s only one Mina, and more people sure to walk in. He frowns slightly. His eyebrows are really dark like his hair, drawing my attention back to his eyes. “Come on, you trust me don’t you?”

“Of course. How can I not?” He passes his menu to Mina. “Thank you, miss,” he tells her politely.

“Miss?” she asks, adjusting the menus together as she turns to me, scowling. “Is he screwing with me?”

I shift away from Evan before she can pick up on how much he’s affecting me, in all the ways his type should not be affecting me. As it is, I’m already going to hear an earful from Ma. “No. He’s just not from around here, Mina.”

“I can see that,” she says, like maybe it’s a good thing.

“Double my order please,” I tell her, ignoring the way she seems to wait for me spill details that aren’t coming.

She sighs. “Fine. But I betcha your ma’s gonna tell me.”

“I have no doubt, Mina.” I keep my eyes on her as she makes her way to the bar, trying not to choke on my water when Sal smacks her in the ass when she passes. Mina returns his show of affection by slapping him upside the head with the menus. If I have any shot at a decent future with a man, that’s what I want: a hard-working guy who can’t keep his hands off me, no matter how big my ass gets.

“What’s the usual?” Evan asks.

I unfold the paper napkin wrapped around the utensils and place it on my lap, ignoring my growing desire to tug him forward by that expensive tie and stamp my mouth on his. “Cheesesteak with mushrooms, peppers, a side of chips, and an extra-large pineapple milkshake to wash it all down.”

His eyebrows raise almost to his hairline. “Perhaps it’s a fgood thing I didn’t have breakfast.”

“You’ll thank me for it later,” I offer, wishing I didn’t want to nibble on those lips. He rests his forearms across the checkerboard red and white plastic tablecloth. I want to warn him that the sleeves of the crisp white shirt he’s wearing, might not stay so crispy white against this table. But right now, I’m so into him and his easy demeanor, it’s hard to speak, and maybe hard to think straight, too.

“Is a pineapple milkshake another Philadelphia delicacy I’ve deprived myself of?” he asks.

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