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One hand clutched a pile of mail to her chest and the other rested on her hip. She looked...pissed. “And so you’ve been hanging out here waiting for me to come home?”
“Kind of.” No way was he going to tell her how he drilled her neighbor for information.
Though knowing the little old lady, she’d probably tell Stephanie all about it anyway.
“That’s just.” She paused, her nose crinkling. “Weird.”
God, she was cute. He wanted to yank her into his arms and kiss her until she stopped complaining but he wasn’t sure that would go over so well.
“I had no other way to get a hold of you. It wasn’t like we exchanged that type of information,” he explained.
No, they’d just exchanged bodily fluids in the most up close and personal way two people could get. But that was beside the point.
She watched him, pursing those lush lips he dreamed about. Tonight they were a deep pink, the color only emphasizing their sexy shape and the urge to kiss her was overwhelming.
The way she looked at him, though, he knew that option was out. At least for now.
But he was always hopeful.
“I thought it was just going to be a one time thing.” Her voice was small and she clutched the mail to her like a shield.
Justin took a step toward her. “So did I.”
“Why are you here now?”
“I wanted to see you again.” He studied her, trying to gauge her reaction. She gave away nothing. “I came here to ask if you’d like to have dinner with me, Stephanie.”
“I know who you are,” she blurted and then she blinked. Twice.
Shit. He kind of liked that she didn’t know exactly who he was. The anonymity had been enjoyable.
But then it dawned on him that she didn’t want to see him and she knew who he was. The women he usually encountered felt the exact opposite.
So maybe this had promise after all. That is, if he could convince her to go out with him.
“Are you mad I wasn’t honest with you?” He took a step closer toward her.
She shook her head and he took another step. “No, just a little confused. But I’m sure you had your reasons.”
“Will you go with me to dinner?” Damn it, he’d already asked her twice and this shit was so unlike him. He felt like he was begging.
He never begged.
“It’s probably not a good idea.”
He had no idea why she just said that. Why wouldn’t it be a good idea? Dinner, a little bit of talking, a whole lot of looking and then a whole bunch of touching followed by way too much fucking.
That all sounded good to him.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged, looked confused. “You’re famous. I’m not.”
“You won’t go to dinner with me because I’m famous?” Well, that was a first. Most of the time women went out with him only because he was famous.
She pressed her lips together, the mail clutched so tight in her hand he heard it crinkle. “Okay fine. I’ll go to dinner with you.”
Triumph surged through him. He wanted to pump his fist into the air. She’d said yes.
