this instance too.
A steel gray oxford, no tie, and slim-fit pants with the same sheen as his button-down vest produced an unnatural reaction. Her tongue rolled to the roof of her mouth and withheld the groan his arousing professional attire and fresh-air scent planted in her head.
“Uh . . .” Mr. Stone narrowed his eyes at Matt and clamped a hand on his shoulder. His flushed face resembled the cherry red that often tinted joggers’ cheeks. “Buddy, you didn’t tell me Maggie would be here. Thought you said this was a business lunch.” He waved a folder and tossed it on the table.
Matt’s grin flashed toward her and then to his friend. “You do realize she’s cooking, right?”
Just then Mr. Stone’s gaze drifted across her chest, becoming transfixed for a while on the crisscrossed fork, spoon, and knife emblem at her left breast and then darted up to her face. If possible, his skin reddened even more as he dropped onto the wooden stool, an impact that scraped the chair back a few inches, rocking him into Matt’s shoulder.
“Let’s order. I’m starved.” An elbow shot given to his buddy, Matt knocked Mr. Stone’s bent arm off the edge of the table and pointed to the menu. “Pick something, fast. I need to get to dessert before it’s all gone.”
Using a similar mocking tone like Matt had earlier, Mr. Stone scanned the room while he spoke. “You realize we’re in a restaurant that has loads of food.”
She got a chuckle out of the amusing banter. Normally, she and Kat rubbed each other the wrong way. It was good to see the ribbing happening to someone else for a change.
“No, smart ass. Maggie’s extra special, sweet treat. There’s a limited amount.”
The menu forgotten and dropped onto the table, Mr. Stone set his chin in his hand and repositioned his arm where it had been before Matt knocked it down. In a seductive murmur he asked, “What sinful goodies do you have for me, Maggie?” Extended across the counter, his hand cupped hers from underneath and gripped it like a beggar pleading for anything and everything she could give.
She yanked her fist away, and it smacked against her thigh as she jolted back several steps to escape the heat, ramming right into Antonio. He picked up the same arm, pried her fingers apart, and inspected her uninjured palm. “You okay?” His other hand settled on her hip as he stood behind her. She hadn’t answered or looked at her superior. Instead her eyes wouldn’t move away from Mr. Stone’s, which kept darting between her and Antonio.
“I don’t see anything.” Antonio brushed his thumb along a line in the center, skimming a vein on her wrist too. Tickles raced across her skin and up her arm, but the zing had nothing to do with his touch. The electrical charge in the air came from Mr. Stone. As if in some out-of- body experience or mist-filled dream, she became super aware of his every move. Slow and reserved, yet full of raw energy, he eased up from his chair, rounded the counter and strutted over to them. Antonio’s hold at her hip stiffened, yet he didn’t let go. Instead his body pressed closer and straightened behind her, an apparent protective mode.
Veins in Mr. Stone’s neck stood out as he leaned into them, coming inches from Antonio’s face. Clanging dishes and silverware, shouted calls for service, and a full house of patrons talking over one another didn’t disguise the whispered threat he launched. “Hands off.”
Antonio raised both arms but didn’t move away from her backside. “Ease up, buddy.”
“Okay, okay, we’re all good here.” Matt threw an arm over Mr. Stone’s shoulder, jerked his chin at Antonio and flicked a quick glance at her before mumbling something in his friend’s ear she couldn’t make out. Whatever he said did the trick, and both returned to their seats, skimming the menu as though nothing had happened.
“You have tickets piling up, Maggie. Get to them,” Antonio reminded and took off for the
A steel gray oxford, no tie, and slim-fit pants with the same sheen as his button-down vest produced an unnatural reaction. Her tongue rolled to the roof of her mouth and withheld the groan his arousing professional attire and fresh-air scent planted in her head.
“Uh . . .” Mr. Stone narrowed his eyes at Matt and clamped a hand on his shoulder. His flushed face resembled the cherry red that often tinted joggers’ cheeks. “Buddy, you didn’t tell me Maggie would be here. Thought you said this was a business lunch.” He waved a folder and tossed it on the table.
Matt’s grin flashed toward her and then to his friend. “You do realize she’s cooking, right?”
Just then Mr. Stone’s gaze drifted across her chest, becoming transfixed for a while on the crisscrossed fork, spoon, and knife emblem at her left breast and then darted up to her face. If possible, his skin reddened even more as he dropped onto the wooden stool, an impact that scraped the chair back a few inches, rocking him into Matt’s shoulder.
“Let’s order. I’m starved.” An elbow shot given to his buddy, Matt knocked Mr. Stone’s bent arm off the edge of the table and pointed to the menu. “Pick something, fast. I need to get to dessert before it’s all gone.”
Using a similar mocking tone like Matt had earlier, Mr. Stone scanned the room while he spoke. “You realize we’re in a restaurant that has loads of food.”
She got a chuckle out of the amusing banter. Normally, she and Kat rubbed each other the wrong way. It was good to see the ribbing happening to someone else for a change.
“No, smart ass. Maggie’s extra special, sweet treat. There’s a limited amount.”
The menu forgotten and dropped onto the table, Mr. Stone set his chin in his hand and repositioned his arm where it had been before Matt knocked it down. In a seductive murmur he asked, “What sinful goodies do you have for me, Maggie?” Extended across the counter, his hand cupped hers from underneath and gripped it like a beggar pleading for anything and everything she could give.
She yanked her fist away, and it smacked against her thigh as she jolted back several steps to escape the heat, ramming right into Antonio. He picked up the same arm, pried her fingers apart, and inspected her uninjured palm. “You okay?” His other hand settled on her hip as he stood behind her. She hadn’t answered or looked at her superior. Instead her eyes wouldn’t move away from Mr. Stone’s, which kept darting between her and Antonio.
“I don’t see anything.” Antonio brushed his thumb along a line in the center, skimming a vein on her wrist too. Tickles raced across her skin and up her arm, but the zing had nothing to do with his touch. The electrical charge in the air came from Mr. Stone. As if in some out-of- body experience or mist-filled dream, she became super aware of his every move. Slow and reserved, yet full of raw energy, he eased up from his chair, rounded the counter and strutted over to them. Antonio’s hold at her hip stiffened, yet he didn’t let go. Instead his body pressed closer and straightened behind her, an apparent protective mode.
Veins in Mr. Stone’s neck stood out as he leaned into them, coming inches from Antonio’s face. Clanging dishes and silverware, shouted calls for service, and a full house of patrons talking over one another didn’t disguise the whispered threat he launched. “Hands off.”
Antonio raised both arms but didn’t move away from her backside. “Ease up, buddy.”
“Okay, okay, we’re all good here.” Matt threw an arm over Mr. Stone’s shoulder, jerked his chin at Antonio and flicked a quick glance at her before mumbling something in his friend’s ear she couldn’t make out. Whatever he said did the trick, and both returned to their seats, skimming the menu as though nothing had happened.
“You have tickets piling up, Maggie. Get to them,” Antonio reminded and took off for the
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