with the plastic cup of coffee that moments before was
gripped tightly between my fingers. Sprays of caramel-colored liquid splattered
across the curb. And across his perfectly pleated, light gray herringbone
pants.
“ Seriously? ” I groaned, smacking my palm to my
forehead and then dragging it down the length of my face, wishing to wipe this
newest reality away like the transition between scenes in a movie. This couldn ’ t be happening. “ I ’ ll get those cleaned, too. ”
“ Are you just trying to get my pants
off? ” A grin overtook Leo ’ s
face. “ Because
there are other, more effective, ways to do that —” he paused like he was waiting to say
my name. I realized I ’ d
never told him it.
“ Julie. ”
“ Julie. ” He smiled. My name never felt like
anything special, but it was now butter, rich and creamy, as it crooned out of
his sculpted mouth. I liked the way his tongue rolled over the letters. “ Don ’ t worry about the pants. ”
“ But you ’ ve got a photo-shoot this morning and
now I ’ ve
gone and ruined your slacks and —”
“ How ’ d you know I have a photo-shoot? ”
Crap.
Was
this where I admitted to him that my roommate and I swapped notes and
information on the guy I ’ d
recently taken to stalking? Was it already time to give up my quirky,
investigative tendencies? Was it time for me to stop asking myself questions
and start giving him answers?
“ Ian Westland. The photographer, ” I explained, holding out Leo ’ s jacket for him to retrieve so I
could bend down to clean up the coffee mess on the pavement. There were used up
candy wrappers and a fresh cigarette butt still glowing red embers against the
gritty sidewalk. My eyes glided up to his. “ He ’ s my roommate. ”
“ I see. ”
Double
crap.
Was
that really all he was going to say? No ‘ How ’ d you put the pieces of that
together? ’ or ‘ How
did I come up in conversation? ’ Just a quick acquiescence to the fact that I was probably a loser.
To
avoid having to look him in the eye right away, I took an exaggeratedly long
time picking up that lone cup. While I was down there, I couldn ’ t help but stare at his shoes, the
leather reflective and polished. My fingers itched to reach out and touch them,
just to see if the extra dollar signs attached to their worth could be tangibly
felt. Most guys I knew wore flip-flops or tennis shoes. Even Ian ’ s expensive Nordstrom loafers weren ’ t on the same scale as the ones
planted directly in front of me.
“ Are you staring at my shoes? ”
Did
he really have to call me out on everything today? Couldn ’ t a girl gawk at a near-stranger ’ s feet and go unnoticed?
“ Yes, ” I admitted on an exasperated breath. “ They ’ re really gorgeous. ”
“ My face is more so. ” In a beat, he was down at my level,
his knees bent, crouching tiger style. I prayed I could become some sort of
hidden dragon and somehow slip away undetected, but his eyes locked with mine
and pulled me back to a standing position as he rose up too, like they had a
magnetic force capable of actually controlling the movements of my body.
Positive attracted to negative.
“ Your face is gorgeous, ” I admitted outright, because it was.
Ain ’ t
gonna lie about that. “ And
so were your pants, and your shoes. But I seem to have ruined all of that. ”
Leo
draped the cleaner ’ s
bag over his forearm and with the other hand, ran the tips of his fingers
through his cropped hair. “ Maybe
the pants and the shoes, but you haven ’ t
ruined the face. ” Holy cannoli, this man was not only irresistible, but incredibly cocky to boot.
Blatant confidence like this wasn ’ t
typically my style, but he owned it, just like he currently owned all of my
attention. It was his, 100%, like I ’ d
just given over the title to my brain, pink slip in hand. There were hundreds
of people crowding the sidewalk around us, and just as many cars and taxis
lining the roadways, but all
gripped tightly between my fingers. Sprays of caramel-colored liquid splattered
across the curb. And across his perfectly pleated, light gray herringbone
pants.
“ Seriously? ” I groaned, smacking my palm to my
forehead and then dragging it down the length of my face, wishing to wipe this
newest reality away like the transition between scenes in a movie. This couldn ’ t be happening. “ I ’ ll get those cleaned, too. ”
“ Are you just trying to get my pants
off? ” A grin overtook Leo ’ s
face. “ Because
there are other, more effective, ways to do that —” he paused like he was waiting to say
my name. I realized I ’ d
never told him it.
“ Julie. ”
“ Julie. ” He smiled. My name never felt like
anything special, but it was now butter, rich and creamy, as it crooned out of
his sculpted mouth. I liked the way his tongue rolled over the letters. “ Don ’ t worry about the pants. ”
“ But you ’ ve got a photo-shoot this morning and
now I ’ ve
gone and ruined your slacks and —”
“ How ’ d you know I have a photo-shoot? ”
Crap.
Was
this where I admitted to him that my roommate and I swapped notes and
information on the guy I ’ d
recently taken to stalking? Was it already time to give up my quirky,
investigative tendencies? Was it time for me to stop asking myself questions
and start giving him answers?
“ Ian Westland. The photographer, ” I explained, holding out Leo ’ s jacket for him to retrieve so I
could bend down to clean up the coffee mess on the pavement. There were used up
candy wrappers and a fresh cigarette butt still glowing red embers against the
gritty sidewalk. My eyes glided up to his. “ He ’ s my roommate. ”
“ I see. ”
Double
crap.
Was
that really all he was going to say? No ‘ How ’ d you put the pieces of that
together? ’ or ‘ How
did I come up in conversation? ’ Just a quick acquiescence to the fact that I was probably a loser.
To
avoid having to look him in the eye right away, I took an exaggeratedly long
time picking up that lone cup. While I was down there, I couldn ’ t help but stare at his shoes, the
leather reflective and polished. My fingers itched to reach out and touch them,
just to see if the extra dollar signs attached to their worth could be tangibly
felt. Most guys I knew wore flip-flops or tennis shoes. Even Ian ’ s expensive Nordstrom loafers weren ’ t on the same scale as the ones
planted directly in front of me.
“ Are you staring at my shoes? ”
Did
he really have to call me out on everything today? Couldn ’ t a girl gawk at a near-stranger ’ s feet and go unnoticed?
“ Yes, ” I admitted on an exasperated breath. “ They ’ re really gorgeous. ”
“ My face is more so. ” In a beat, he was down at my level,
his knees bent, crouching tiger style. I prayed I could become some sort of
hidden dragon and somehow slip away undetected, but his eyes locked with mine
and pulled me back to a standing position as he rose up too, like they had a
magnetic force capable of actually controlling the movements of my body.
Positive attracted to negative.
“ Your face is gorgeous, ” I admitted outright, because it was.
Ain ’ t
gonna lie about that. “ And
so were your pants, and your shoes. But I seem to have ruined all of that. ”
Leo
draped the cleaner ’ s
bag over his forearm and with the other hand, ran the tips of his fingers
through his cropped hair. “ Maybe
the pants and the shoes, but you haven ’ t
ruined the face. ” Holy cannoli, this man was not only irresistible, but incredibly cocky to boot.
Blatant confidence like this wasn ’ t
typically my style, but he owned it, just like he currently owned all of my
attention. It was his, 100%, like I ’ d
just given over the title to my brain, pink slip in hand. There were hundreds
of people crowding the sidewalk around us, and just as many cars and taxis
lining the roadways, but all
Similar Books
