That same smirky smile stays on his lips. “That’s too bad.”
Okay, his smile is adorable—the perfect combination of naughty and nice. I blame that smile for the next three seconds of ogling. My eyes drop, and I peek at his washboard abs—the pilgrims could’ve done laundry on those things. I can imagine them loading this guy on the Mayflower, bringing him across the ocean, the cleanliness of their clothes depending on his six-pack.
“Do you want to share the fitting room?”
His question pulls my eyes away from his corrugated stomach. It feels like I’ve been in here for ten minutes—embarrassing things have a way of slowing down time—but really, it’s only been fifteen seconds tops.
Ihope.
“Share the fitting room?” I laugh. “No, thank you.”
He picks up a pair of jeans and holds them in front of him.
I glance down, peeking at his toned thighs as he pushes one foot through the opening. This guy is clearly a fan of leg presses. My gaze travels back up his body meeting his smug expression. His eyes are literally asking me,are you enjoying the show?My face goes through all the shades of pink and red in a Crayola Crayon 100 pack, starting with Cotton Candy and ending with Brick Red.
“I’ll just be on my way.” I wiggle my body around him, but he’s not making it easy. I’m pressed against the wall, smearing my chest across it as I go. “Sorry again.” I awkwardly salute the man like he’s some kind of Navy Seal. “Merry Christmas.”
I pull open the curtain and move to leave, but my charm bracelet is caught on a loose thread on the curtain's edge. I yank my wrist back, thinking that the string will just snap, but instead, the clasp on my lithium charm starts to spread apart.
“Oh, no!” I bring the bracelet and the curtain closer to my eyes to examine it. My fingers clumsily try to detach myself, but it’s like I have fat fingers that are punching all the wrong letters on a phone keyboard. I can’t maneuver the jewelry to the right spot.
“Let me help.” The guy steps closer to me, bringing his defined pecs with him.
“No, no. That’s okay. I’ve got it.” Ineedto get it because Ineedto get out of here. I’ve reached my cap on embarrassing things a person can do in front of a handsome stranger.
“Let me help you.” His warm fingers cover mine, sending shivers sledding down my arm.
My eyes slowly peek up at him. He’s close.Soclose. His blue eyes—not as vibrant as mine—are light in the center with a dark navy ring around the edges. There’s a trace of a five o’clock shadow on his jaw and the smell of mint on his breath, like he just finished a peppermint candy cane.
It takes him all of two seconds to untie the string, but he doesn’t step back. His gaze scans my face, and his fingers linger on my wrist, tracing my bracelet. “Your charms are elements from the periodic table.”
“Only the most chemically reactive ones.”
His lips twitch, and his eyes shine with amusement. “Chemical reactions. That sounds dangerous.”
Oh, Holy Night!This guy could give lessons on being suave.
I lift my chin. “It’s only dangerous if you mix the wrong chemicals together.”
Am I flirting with the half-naked smooth-talker?
Yes. Yes, I am.
I’ve never been good at fighting the laws of attraction.
His lips curl into another adorable smile. “Then I guess we better not mix things together that don’t belong.”
“That’s why I’m leaving.” I throw him my version of a flirty smile and walk out of his fitting room.
THREE
PARK
I reachinto the pocket of my old pants and pull out the computer chip, switching it to the new ones. I wad my old clothes into a ball and step out of the dressing room, holding them for now until I can get a bag from the cashier. My new outfit consists of blue jeans, a black v-neck, and a black jacket. Hopefully, the change of clothes throws off the other men with Fabrice.
As I exit the dressing room, my eyes drift around the store and beyond into the mall. No one looks suspicious like they’re searching for me or the computer chip. I zig-zag through tables of clothes and Christmas shoppers until I find the line to pay. I do many things that skirt the law, but shoplifting isn’t one of them.
This must be my lucky day because the beautiful woman that stumbled into my dressing room is standing in front of me. She has straight, red hair that ends just above her shoulders and bangs that give her delicate features more character. Plus, she has metallic blue eyes, the same color as the peacocks I saw in India just last month. She’s dressed in gray sweats, a white pullover sweatshirt, and Nike tennis shoes, but she doesn’t look like she isn’t trying. She looks sporty and cute like she had too much to do today and wanted to stay comfortable.
