Page 11 of Craig

He wanted to watch her walk in, wanted to see her before she saw him. He toyed with the glass of lemonade that had been put before him and was checking his phone when he heard the drop in conversation and felt the air shift.

His head lifted and he felt his breath backing up in his throat.

And he knew he should have asked someone else, anyone else. She was even more staggeringly beautiful than she had been all those years ago.

Regina Graham commanded any room she entered. It was not just her looks; it had more to do with her style, or rather, the lack of clothing she had on that left her stunningly seductive body almost completely bare.

He supposed he could call the color burnt orange, and it was a startling contrast to her flawless cocoa brown skin. The crocheted top dipped low in the front, with thin straps tied at the neck and left her flat stomach bare.

The flowing white skirt was secured low at her waist so that even from where he was sitting, he could see the wink of her navel ring. Her locks were streaming past her shoulders.

A trio of colored stones was at her lobes with a trio of white, orange, and green intricately designed earrings at the first piercing.

Men stopped to stare at her. The skirt was slit almost to the crotch, showing off her spectacular legs.

Fighting the instant desire and fury, he rose as soon as she approached, the waiter hurrying behind her like a besotted bodyguard.

“Regina. Making an entrance as usual.”

He leaned in to kiss her cheek briefly, inhaling her tantalizing perfume.

“How else should one enter a room?” Turning, she smiled at the man who hastily pulled out her chair and just stood there waiting.

“Thanks, Paul. A frozen strawberry lemonade for me to start with. It’s as hot as a bitch out there.”

“Right away, Gina.” The man beamed as if she had handed him the keys to the city.

“Well,” Seating herself gracefully, she turned to look at him and felt the familiar spark and heat. Craig Muldoon had always managed to unnerve her.

“You look …” She took a good look and noticed the muscles and the broadness of the shoulders as well as the stamp of cynicism on his face.

“Different.”

“It’s been awhile.” He sipped his drink and noticed the tattoo over her left breast, a pretty orange and blue butterfly.

He knew she had one at the base of her left thigh as well. Her nose ring winked at him as she leaned her elbows on the table.

Her drink came along with a basket of bread.

“Ready to order?” The man named Paul barely looked at Craig.

Regina arched her brow at him in inquiry, and he shook his head curtly. “Give us several minutes.”

Pulling the glass towards her, she took a sip from the straw and eyed him. “What’s going on?”

He had thought of several approaches but considered going straight to the point. He wanted to get the whole distasteful ordeal over and done with.

“I came back to the states for a reason.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He fiddled with his drink and she waited.

He remembered she always had the uncanny ability to sit patiently and listen.

“My grandfather is dying. He has three months at the most.”

“I see,” she said slowly, never taking her eyes off him. “I seem to recall that you hated him.”