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I turn to stone. Or at least I hope I do. A marble replica of myself appears where my body used to be.
“Oh my God,” the marble replica babbles feverishly, “I am so sorry.”
My hand hovers in midair, aware at a cellular level that I have just soiled, and then fondled, a complete stranger.
“Wow,” he grunts uncomfortably, “that’s pretty hot.”
Finally I allow myself to make eye contact. His serious brown eyes crinkle at the edges, hopefully with something like humor. Though I am practically stunned into stupidity, my brain does manage to make the following split-second assessment: square jaw, high cheekbones, and thick, wavy hair.
Christ, that is a handsome man.
Okay, let the babbling begin.
“I am so sorry!” I hear myself say. “Let me get you a napkin… I mean, other than this one. I mean, you can do this yourself of course. I mean, God, are they ruined? Your slacks, I mean? I mean… Oh, wow.”
Swallowing hard, I force myself to press my lips together. I have to make myself stop.
The corner of his mouth twists into a subtle smirk as he takes the napkin from my trembling fingertips and, tugging his pants taut with his other hand, dabs the fabric gently.
“Is it coming out? I’m so, uh—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he smiles gently, bracketing his cheeks in long, deep dimples.
After a few seconds, he stops and just shrugs.
“I could pay for dry-cleaning? I mean…”
I could shut up, I tell myself sternly. That’s an option I could explore. Shutting up. Shutting up right frickin’ now.
“You know what, I think I have another pair in my car. I’ll just head over to the parking garage. My dry-cleaning is in the back seat—isn’t that a coincidence?”
“It certainly is,” I choke over my dry, useless tongue.
He smiles gently, reaching out and, to my surprise, nudging the hand that holds the rest of my cappuccino toward my body.
“Go ahead and drink that,” he suggests. “It looks delicious. What’s left of it, anyway.”
When he smiles, I can’t help but marvel at the perfection of his straight, white teeth. Supermodel teeth. But not overly whitened or anything. Just good, strong teeth.
His eyes focus on me as I lift the cup to my lips and take a drink. It’s just cool enough to sip, and the aroma and texture flood my mouth. I hear myself sigh.
“That good, huh?” he smirks.
I feel my cheeks go bright red with embarrassment. And yet I can’t just walk away. I’m caught in limbo between what I feel is an unfinished apology and some kind of tractor beam of attraction.
“It really is delicious,” I chuckle, cringing with embarrassment.
“I will be sure to get one for myself when I get back. After the pants, that is. I think I still have a little time before they send HR after me. First day, you know. I’d like to make a good impression.”
When he smiles light lines fan out from his eyes. He has brown eyes. Kind eyes.
“New job?” I ask, taking another sip of my coffee.
He glances at his wrist, checking the time on a fine watch. An antique, I think. Kind of a classic detail on this thoroughly modern gentleman. Most men just check their cell phones.
“Yes… in about twenty-three minutes. If I hurry, I might still have time to get a coffee for myself.”
I cringe with guilt, but he just shrugs amiably. His eyes sweep back and forth across my face, belying some kind of internal monologue. I wonder briefly what he’s thinking.
