Page 20 of Love Overdose: St. Louis

“I do. Do you want me to move it?”

“No.”

A smile pulled at my mouth. Naomi once told me that Frankie was a straightforward, honest person. I witnessed this during our times together – even now. I opened the passenger door, and she paused before getting in. “Look at you being a gentleman.”

“My mother would disown me if I let you open your own door.”

“So, this is about self-preservation?”

“It can be about whatever gets you into the car.”

Her laugh followed her into the seat. By the time I slid behind the wheel, she had crossed one leg over the other. The hem of her dress shifted higher on her thigh. I let my gaze rest there before lifting it to her face. She caught me looking. I didn’t look away.

“I would ask you if you’re ready, but somehow, I think you are.”

Frankie smiled. “I’ve been ready.”

I started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

“How was your day?” I asked.

“Busy. I had lunch with Naomi and Journey, taught a class, then spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready.”

“What kind of class do you teach?”

“Zumba.”

I let my gaze crawl over her. “You’re a Zumba instructor?”

“An award-winning Zumba instructor,” she corrected, lifting one shoulder. “I teach live classes at my studio and sell workout videos online.”

“That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

I allowed my gaze to travel over her once more then returned it to the road. “The shape you’re in.”

Her smile widened. “So, you noticed?”

“On our first date, and the moment you opened the door.”

She shifted in her seat, and the movement sent the hem of her dress another inch higher.

“I didn’t know neurosurgeons flirted this much.”

“I don’t know about the others.”

“But you do?”

“With the right woman.”

The look she gave me lingered long enough to warm the air inside the car.

“I like teaching,” she said after a moment. “People come into class tired, stressed, or feeling bad about themselves. Then the music starts, and for that hour, they forget whatever was weighing them down.”

“You give them an escape.”

“I do, and I give them somewhere to shake their ass without being judged.”