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He licks his lower lip, a confident move that destroys the image of a bumbling barista in my head. “I think we both know the answer to that question, but I promised myself on the walk over tonight that I’d be on my best behavior.” I’m not sure how he does it, but he delivers the line with the experience of a man comfortable around women. It’s delivered with the care of a man who has my best interest at heart. All it does is make me want him more. “Let me get you through your pitch. After you win, we can revisit this conversation.”
I don’t possess his restraint or skill. “You sure you can last that long?” I hear the disappointment in my voice and pray he doesn’t.
“Just eight thousand glances away.” His eyes sparkle as he takes another perusal of me from head to toe and back again. “Seven thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine.”
I feel the heat in my cheek, another blush forming. My gaze takes in his Coffee Loft T-shirt. “You changed your shirt?”
He nods. “You hated the one I wore earlier.” He closes the distance between us. “When you look at me, I always want to see joy on your beautiful face. I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen even if it means tossing my favorite T-shirt in the garbage.”
“You threw it away.”
He runs a finger up the length of my arm. From fingertip to shoulder. His touch is gentle, skilled, and it sends shivers through me. “For you. Yes.”
I close my eyes to prevent my confused mind from overreacting. He says he wants to take things slow this week, yet his touch tells me something else. I feel his finger underneath my chin and know he’s in front of me, just a kiss away.
I don’t open my eyes. I can’t. I don’t have his restraint. I don’t have his experience. He flipped the script on me again. Being with Devon is like being on the greatest rollercoaster ride in the world. One minute, I’m squeezing the safety bar with all my might, praying he doesn’t trip and spill boiling hot coffee on me. A second later, he takes his time, building sexual tension with words, with an accidental brush of his finger against my heated skin. My pulse climbs to an impossible pace. At the top of the climb. The highest point in the entire park. I can see forever. I can feel forever. Everything I could imagine in front of me for the taking. All I have to do is open my eyes. All I have to do is remain brave. All I have to do is believe.
I want to kiss him.
I want to pull him into a hug and forget all about the pitch for one night. I want him to abandon hisI’ll wait a weekpersona.
But I don’t do that.
I can’t.
My sister’s voice invades my head. Every warning and lesson I’ve drilled into her now ringing in my own head.
If it seems too good to be true…
I open my eyes and sure enough, his nose is less than an inch from mine. His look of desire clouds when he takes in my gaze.
The words are out my lips before future me can warn me of the consequence. “Devon? Who are you?”
****
Chapter Ten
Devon
The minute her eyes open, I know I’m in trouble.
I’ve overplayed my hand. It was a crappy hand to begin with. I told myself on the walk over that I’d follow Marvin’s advice even if it was against every instinct I possess. I’d keep my distance; I’d focus on the pitch. We’d enjoy a nice dinner; I’d try on a few outfits and would avoid the ridiculous attraction I feel for Zara.
That was the plan.
The one that went out the window the minute our lips touched.
“Devon? Who are you?”
I feel my brow furrow, and I freeze. “What do you mean?”
She retreats and as much as I want to mirror her movement, I don’t.
“One minute, you can’t string two sentences together. You drop glassware like it’s electrified and the next… you’re like this?”
Crap. I’ve screwed up. Once Zara kissed me, I totally forgot all about Devon the barista. I know how to speak to a beautifulwoman; audition and rehearsal rooms are filled with them. I can flirt with the best of them. I’ve kissed my share of starlets. But I’ve never reacted the way I do when Zara kisses me.
“Like what?” My question is as transparent as the plastic wrap used on the sandwiches. I’m buying time.
