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He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
And he just saved my life.
I stare at him like an idiot for a moment. A humble peasant upon the shrine of a God.
Okay, don’t get carried away, I chastise myself.
Then an engine revs nearby, the sound making me jump. The car that almost hit me swipes the food off the windshield with its wipers and starts to peel away from the scene.
Oh, hell no.
“Hey! Hey, jackass!” I chase after the fucker, but I’m slowed down by the fact that one of my shoes fell partway off when I was rolling. I yank it off my foot and chuck it at the car, but it falls short as the driver speeds away. “Damn it! Asshole!”
Righteous anger fills me, even though I wasn’t at a crosswalk or anything. The moron came out of nowhere, and had to have been speedingandnot paying attention to almost hit me like that.
A warm chuckle wafting through the air behind me tells me that my rescuer has followed me. I glance back to find his insanely gorgeous eyes sparkling in amusement.
“I’ve lived in L.A. for years,” he says, his voice deep and sultry. “And that’s the first time I’ve ever seen anyone throw a shoe at a car.” He slides a sly glance my way. “Plenty of other things. Vegetables, bullets—but never a shoe.”
My pulse, which is already racing, quickens a little as he speaks. He’s tall and built, and that voice…
It’s as rich as the thirty-dollar chocolate mousse I serve every day. His eyes are kaleidoscopes, drawing me in with every hue and light refraction. I missed my chance to play the damsel in distress by trying to beat the crazy driver with my shoe, but damn, what I wouldn’t give to get a do-over in his arms.Holy shit.
Glancing down, I notice the burned rubber on the pavement and the smear of food across it, and my stomach dips.Icould have been that smear. I swallow hard as I realize just how close I came to dying a moment ago.
“Thank you,” I tell him. My voice still has a harsh edge to it from when I was yelling at the driver, so I clear my throat and try again. “Thank you, for you know… saving my life.”
“Of course.” He nods, then frowns. “But what on Earth were you doing in the street?”
I jerk my chin toward the park. “I was on my way to meet my sister over there. It seemed stupid to walk all the way down to the crosswalk instead of just cutting across here.”
“The stupidest decisions are rarely known in hindsight, since bad decisions are often fatal ones,” he says, his tone serious. “Mercifully, this didn’t turn out to be one of those.”
“It would have been without you,” I say sheepishly. “What are you doing running around saving women from rabid cars this time of night, anyway? Your name isn’t Clark Kent by any chance, is it?” I make a show of looking him over, from his expensive haircut, to his suit that must cost more than my monthly rent, to his shoes which are somehow still glossy and un-scuffed after his heroic dive. “No. Definitely more of a Bruce Wayne.”
He chuckles, and the warmth of it drips over my body like honey. I find myself drifting toward him, and make a point to step deliberately out of the street instead of pressing my suddenly needy body against his.
“Lucas Hale,” he says, extending his hand.
My jaw nearly drops. I accept his gesture and shake, recovering from yet another shock as I try to remember my own name.
Lucas Hale.
That name has popped up in more than a few high-stakes business meetings I’ve attended to as a server. You can find it all over town. Investing credits, sponsor credits, producing credits, plaques on buildings and hospital wings,everywhere. Lucas Hale might as well be the King of Los Angeles for all the money and power he has. If a big project is happening in town, you can bet that Lucas Hale’s name will be attached to it somewhere.
“Oh,” I finally breathe. “Um, I’m Sophia. Sophia Gallo. Not nearly as impressive, but I do my best.”
His smile is somewhere between inviting and predatory. I brush a few red flags away as I let him hold my hand for a few seconds longer than is technically polite.
“Lovely to meet you, Sophia, although the circumstances could certainly have been better.” He leads me fully up onto the sidewalk, then gestures for me to stay put. “Can’t have all that lifesaving go to waste,” he says with a wink.
He jogs out into the middle of the street and retrieves my shoe, then strides back to me. He doesn’t look like someone who just tackled a woman out of the way of a moving car. He looks crisp and fresh, not a wrinkle on his suit or a single hair out of place. I wonder if money can really account for all of that, or if he just has incredibly good genes.
“Your shoe,” he says, presenting it to me with a formal flourish.
“Why thank you, kind sir,” I say, putting on a posh accent and curtsying poorly before gesturing with my shoe. “And you didn’t even have to try it on all the maidens in the kingdom first.”
A slow, warm grin spreads across his face. “No. Because, unlike the very charming yet oblivious prince, I won’t be forgetting what you look like when the clock strikes midnight.”
