Page 6 of Feel Me

My hand skims across my lap and I hurry to compose myself. “He told me he liked my dress.”

“Your dress?” he questions, like he doesn’t believe me.

“Yes.”

“The one you’re wearing.”

I frown and glance down at it. “Why? Don’t you like it?”

“Of course, you look hot.”

“Hot?” I ask.

He holds out a hand. “I don’t mean it that way.”

“And what way is that?” I ask, because no way does someone likehimthink someone likemeis hot.

“The way that you’re taking it.”

I cross my arms. “And how am I taking it?”

Oh, and there’s that pained look on his face again. “The way that you shouldn’t,’ he says.

“Don’t worry,” I assure him. “I won’t. I never have.”

“Never?” he asks. “Even the day we met?”

My face heats as my eyebrows become better acquainted with my hairline. Declan and I have never spoken about the day we met. Probably because it was disastrous and humiliating. Seriously, I never wanted to nut-punch a man more.

“You really want to go there with me?” I ask.

A flush of red creeps along his neck. “Ah,” he says, and not much more.

He must be joking.

I was in the process of transitioning from the state office in Harrisburg to Dad’s office here in Philly. A case he was trying kept him from meeting me. I had a few hours to kill before I met with my realtor and decided to treat myself to a late lunch.

Although my back was to the entrance of the bistro, and I wasn’t wearing my hearing aids, the way the light streaked across the window beside me when the door opened, drew my attention to the front of the bistro.

Declan walked in, appearing almost too flawless, sexy, and imposing to be real. His sleek suit and tie seemed to have been hand selected and tailored to demonstrate his position of power and his success. Curran trailed him, his gaze taking the room in for any visible threat.

The waitress with the ponytail noticed him right away, pausing to allow him through and admire the view. The women gathered in the corner weren’t much better, nudging each other and whispering like a team of cheerleaders at the first sight of the quarterback.

I can’t blame them for acting the way that they did. I was taken with him, too. It’s hard not to, given his startling looks and magnetic charm he exudes like an aura. I just didn’t expect him to look in my direction. Men like him rarely did. I turned around, returning to my lunch and the novel I was reading, certain he hadn’t noticed me and never imagining he’d approach.

He rubs his jaw, watching me closely. “I didn’t mean to tell you what I did,” he says. “Not about you being beautiful because you are, but when I said, ‘You’re not deaf are you?’ I only said that because I thought you were blowing me off. I never suspected that you actually were hearing impaired.”

He fumbles through his last few words, but they’re not ones I fixate on. “You think I’m beautiful?” I stammer.

The shade of red spreads to his cheeks and further yet. He holds up his hands. “I was only trying to prove to Curran I could get you to go out with me.”

“Why?” His mouth abruptly shuts. My eyes fly open. “Was this abet?”

“No!”

I simply stare.

“Not really,” he admits. “I told him to pick any woman in the restaurant without a ring and that I could get her, or in this caseyou, to go out with me.”

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