Page 16 of Crossing Lines

“So you’re trying to control me now? You barely make time for me, but you’re telling me what I can and can’t do?”

“Davia…” He blows a sharp breath and calms himself. “We agreed to respect each other’s feelings. I’d appreciate it if you don’t return to that man’s club.”

“Fine,” I relent. “I won’t.”

“Thank you.” Eyes steady on the road, he reaches for my hand and brings it to his mouth to kiss it.

It’s so busy in the office with fashion week approaching. Wanting to catch my breath, I avoid a lunch delivery and stride down the street to my favorite food shop.

After ordering, I sit at a table to wait, feeling a flutter in my tummy as Kross enters in a gray hoodie, blue jeans, and shades.

He halts and removes his glasses. “Davia.” Those alluring chocolate eyes, sexy smile, deep voice, and intoxicating cologne. Talk about a challenging temptation.

I swallow to respond. “Kross, hey.”

“Good to see you again. On a break from work?”

“Yeah. Before you ask to eat with me, I’m taking my food back to the office.”

He shrugs. “It’s all good. I’m meeting someone.”

“Your girlfriend?” slips out.

An odd sensation stirs within as he gives me a flirty smirk. “I’m single, baby girl. You want to fill the spot?”

“What?” I gasp. “Kross, why would you—”

“I’m messing around,” he chuckles. “So, I’ll see you Wednesday night at the club?”

Jamir’s words fill my head. “I can’t.”

“Another night, then?”

I fidget on the chair, telling him, “My man has an issue with me going to your club.”

Palpable confusion masks his face. “Thought he was pulling up with you?”

“He’s uninterested.”

He shifts his weight to one side. “Ol’ boy doesn’t want to come out, but he has a problem with you having fun? Sounds…”

“Don’t,” I stop him.

“All right. That’s too bad, though.” He sighs in displeasure. “How many more times do you think we’ll run into each other before we return to never crossing paths?”

I snort. “What a question. Does it matter?”

He forms a charming half-smile. “It does ‘cause I like seeing you.”

If I were of a lighter tone, I’d probably be red from the heat in my cheeks.

“And I’m down with being friends,” he adds.

I compose myself to speak. “This is friendly enough.”

He twists his mouth while squinting. “We can’t build a friendship on chance encounters.”

“That’s how it’ll have to be.”

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