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His eyebrows raised when he saw me. “Oh, hello.”
“Good morning.”
He huffed. “Yes. Yes, it is morning.”
“Long night.” The moonlight shimmered off his thick black hair.
“Yeah, just finished work.”
“Oh. Working on Good Friday?”
“Unfortunately.” He turned toward the ocean. “Wow, look at that moon.”
“It’s glorious, isn’t it?”
He turned back to me. “May I?” He indicated to the lounge.
I shuffled over. “Of course.”
Releasing a deep sigh, he placed his briefcase down, and as he sat at my side, I smelled hints of musk cologne and coffee. He rubbed his hands together, and I was captivated by how clean and smooth they looked, unlike the plumber who’d had his hands all over me recently. I smacked that naughty visual aside. “What do you do?”
He groaned, and I wondered if it was weariness or reluctance to discuss what he did that brought that reaction. “I’m a computer technician.”
“Do you normally work nights?”
“Sadly, yes. People don’t like their workday disrupted by computer outages. So, I come in at night to upgrade their systems.” He placed his perfect, unadorned hands on his knees. “Nobody’s inconvenienced.”
I cocked my head at him. “Except you.”
He turned to me, and his dark eyes penetrated right into mine. “Yes, except me. Why are you up in the middle of the night then?” The moonlight reflected in his irises and made them sparkle.
“I’m the night manager here.”
He nodded as if understanding the full implication of what a shift like this would mean to a person’s lifestyle. “Seems like we have something in common.”
Is he flirting with me? My stomach fluttered at the lovely thought. “Yes, we do.”
I turned my attention back to the moon and tried to remember when a man had last flirted with me. But I couldn’t remember one.
With each of the three lovers in my life, our relationship had never started with flirting, fleeting discreet glances, or admiration from afar. It seemed that one minute, we were acquaintances—next minute, we were dating.
It showed how desperate I’d been back then.
“My name’s Brent.” He held his hand toward me, and I noticed his clean, trimmed nails. I noticed the weirdest things now.
“I’m Jane. Nice to meet you.” His soft fingers draped around mine like cotton wool. An image of those lovely hands caressing my breasts flashed into my mind. I resisted a giggle and forced myself to focus on my job. “Do you need me to check you in?”
“No, I checked in around lunchtime yesterday.” He tried to stifle a yawn. “What time do you finish?”
“Not until six-thirty.”
“Bugger.” He slipped forward on the chair and stood to look down at me. “I’m off to bed. Maybe I’ll see you soon.” He chuckled, and his cheeks flushed red. “I mean, not in my room, of course.” He laughed louder.
As I laughed with him, I was convinced that he was flirting with me, and my cheeks flushed with the thrill of it.
“I’m staying for a couple of days. Maybe we could meet here at the same time tomorrow morning.”
“That would be nice.” He does like me! And it’s the Plain Jane me that he likes, not my sexy temptress, Memphis. A delicious flutter floated through me at how relaxing he was to talk to. It had been ten days since a man had last touched me, and my naughty alter-ego was chomping at the bit for another session.
