Read Online Nothing More Beautiful by Lorelai LaBelle - Free Book Online Page A

the darkness
of my subconscious by some magical force, bringing the feelings to
the forefront of my heart and between my legs. I’d never had such a
flutter in my veins.
    I felt like a teenager for thinking it, but
he was hot . Really hot.
    Without warning, I noticed the heat of my
burning cheeks, and I was held by his gaze, I felt exposed even
though my scarf covered the cleavage-peeking V of my sweater. How long have we stood in silence? I wondered, now hurrying
myself to come up with something to say. “No, that’s okay,” was all
I managed at first. “It’s not that big a deal. I was just looking
forward to having it for lunch tomorrow.”
    He nodded, polite and composed. “You took
off so fast on Tuesday that I didn’t get a chance to introduce
myself. Vince Forte,” he said, sticking out his hand for me to
shake.
    The business side of me took over when I saw
his extended arm. “Maci,” I said, making eye contact, the way I was
taught from an early age, to assert confidence. I withdrew quicker
than I normally would, but the eerie tingle produced when our skin
touched unnerved me.
    “Maci?” he fished.
    “Sorry. Maci Goodwin.”
    “Goodwin,” he said, examining the name.
“That’s a strong name.”
    “Not as strong as Forte,” I pointed out.
“Originating from fortis .”
    He laughed. “Quite right. You know words
pretty well, I take it?” he asked, fidgeting with the book he held.
I caught on to his nervousness then, and it was odd to observe,
since it was nearly impossible for me to form a brief answer.
    “Crossword buff,” I replied. “I also read
dictionaries sometimes.”
    He nodded, his movements rather jerky. Did I
make him as anxious as he made me? That was a silly question—of
course not. I had to escape, had to get far away from these bizarre
and troubling feelings.
    But before I could get the words out, he
asked, “So, do you live around here?” The blunt question floored
me. He must have caught on to my agitation, as he followed up with,
“I ask because I wanted to walk you home. It’s the least I can do
after knocking your leftovers into the street.”
    I analyzed his offer. Despite my wish to
flee, another part of me desired to stay in his company. After
debating with myself, quickly listing the pros and cons, I settled
on an invitation. What harm could it do, right? “My car is on
13 th and Irving if you want to walk me to it.”
    His smile widened. “I’d love to.”
    The idea of foraging for books at Powell’s
was now replaced with intense fascination with Vince, and the
incident, while sobering, was also exhilarating. We strolled beside
each other, and I had to fight my feet that challenged every step I
took, trying to shift into speed-walker mode.
    Vince broke the brief wave of silence. “So
where was the mac and cheese from?” His voice was smooth once
again, with a seductive silky quality, if that were possible for a
man.
    I pointed at Henry’s as we passed the
restaurant, turning up 12 th Avenue. “I had a date.” The
words slipped out before any filter intercepted them.
    “Oh?” He raised his eyebrows. “And how come
he’s not walking you to your car?” His straightforward manner
attracted me even more, showing the confidence I was now searching
for, since it had chosen to abandon me at such a crucial time.
    My cheeks went crimson. “Bad date,” I said,
attempting to match his frank tone.
    “Sorry to hear that.”
    “Sorry my friend hit your car,” I blurted,
directing the conversation onto a new topic. “She has a problem
with road rage.”
    “It was barely anything,” he said. “Mary
Jane is just fine.”
    “Mary Jane?”
    “That’s what I call my Mustang, after Mary
Jane Watson from Spiderman.” He laughed to himself. “You could say
I’m a bit of a comic book enthusiast. Not sure if you noticed, but
she’s painted like Spiderman’s costume.”
    “I was having trouble seeing that day,” I
admitted. I hitched onto the better subject.