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I sauntered over to the guy and stood in front of him until he looked up.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” he replied and smiled. Definitely cute, and definitely not one of Terry Wilcox’s steroid-ridden bad guys. The look of this dude said he would never hit a woman. Or at least I hoped so.
“You need another espresso?” I asked, giving my head a flirty tilt.
“Nah, thanks, I’m juiced up enough.” He went back to reading.
Hmm. What did I do now? Never really had someone gone back to reading after I gave them the flirty tilt. Even if they weren’t entirely interested, they gave more reaction to the flirty tilt. Maybe it was the mini-shiner.
“Good magazine?” I asked, and he looked up again.
“Yeah, the best.”
I nodded and wished I’d worn a tank top or camisole that day so I could have leaned over and given him some of my power cleavage. My cleavage would have negated the effects of the shiner.
Instead, I was in jeans, a brown, hand-tooled belt with a big, silver buckle that had a design made out of what looked like miniature rope, brown cowboy boots and a chocolate-brown fitted tee that said “I do all my own stunts” across my boobs in yellow and red lettering.
“I’m not into sports,” I told him and then sat on the arm of his chair, peering over the magazine to look at it. His entire body tensed. He turned his head to stare at me and I gave him a mega-watt smile. “Though I like going to games and stuff. Do you go to games?”
I pressed the side of my breast against his arm, still pretending to try and get a look at his magazine.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I gave him an innocent look.
“Who, me?” Then I winked.
His face went pale and his cell phone rang. He stood up to get it out of his jeans, and he stood so fast he nearly knocked me off the arm of the chair.
I righted myself as he said, “Talk to me.”
Then his eyes cut to me and he handed me the phone. I stared at it, astonished, then took it and put it to my ear.
“Leave Matt alone. He’s just doin’ his job,” Lee said in my ear.
I was a little shocked at the call. I just wanted to fluster Matt a bit.
How did he…?
Fucking,fuckingLee.
“What’s his job?” I asked, my blood pressure ratcheting up a notch.
“Making sure you don’t get kidnapped or shot at.”
“Or do anything stupid?”
“That too.”
“How did you know I was screwing with him?”
“Trade secret.”
“Tell me or I’m moving to Venezuela, losing myself in the jungle and shacking up with a local.”
Silence, then a sigh.
