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“Yeah. Just a bit tired from staying out too late.”
“Do tell.” She bumps my shoulder. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Two guys, actually.”
“Ooh.” Her eyes light up. “That’s unconventional but no judgement here.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” I laugh at her look of disappointment. “Sorry, nothing quite that exciting. I was out with my roommate and a new friend I met.”
“Well, a new friend sounds promising.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Strictly platonic. He’s the F.!.T. owner’s brother.” I explain how I met Kai and why Leo was there the night Gwen saw him after class.
“Sounds like he makes you hot and gets under your skin.”
“I said no such thing.”
“No, but your eyes did.” She bobs her eyebrows.
“Stop that.” I laugh. “He’s too full of himself.”
“Most men are. If that was a deal-breaker, we’d all be single. What I’ve learned is that most of it is just a front. You might find beneath his arrogance, there’s a real darling of a man.”
I snort at that notion. Leo, a darling of a man? That doesn’t seem possible. But does it really matter if all I want is his body and the pleasure I know it can bring me?
CHAPTER 9
Leo
FOUR OF THE MOST IRRITATING words stare up at me from my phone screen.
I haven’t decided yet.
That’s been her response every time I’ve asked. Pathetic. I have never pursued a woman like this before, especially one this age. For Christ’s sake, Jazz was still in diapers when I was growing peach fuzz.
I toss my phone onto the counter and begin pacing.This is insanity, Foster.She’s young and flighty, and you are a grown-ass man who shouldn’t be obsessing over one kiss.But damn, the sweet taste of Jazz, and having her in my hands, her hard-toffee nipples in my mouth, it’s a memory that just won’t quit.
The smart thing would have been to call my buddies, Damon and Chris, grab a beer at the pub, shoot some pool, and chat up a pretty woman who’s at least thirty and knows what the hell she wants. At ten after eight, thinking the night is a bust, I pour myself two fingers of whiskey. As I’m taking a sip, the buzzersounds. My breath starts racing as if I’m skating down the ice, crashing through opponents.
Get it together, Foster.I clear my throat, straighten my black untucked shirt, and press the intercom button on the wall. “Yeah?”
“It’s me. Ms. Undecided.”
That gives me pause, but I press the button to let her in and open the door. If she’s still undecided, what is she doing here? I don’t need this shit in my life. Then I see her walking towards me down the hall, and all thoughts flee.
My reaction is so fierce that I feel like a wolf ready to pounce. A fitting reference because she’s wearing candied apple red. The sweater-dress plunges into a V at the neck, is cinched at the waist with a wide belt, and cuts high on her thighs. The sound of her red shoes clicking on the hardwood are courtesy of ice pick heels. They tie in a crisscross around her ankles, making her thick, smooth legs an endless fascination.
Her brown and caramel-streaked hair curls madly. Her big, dark eyes are embellished with black eyeliner, and her naturally coloured lips are glossy and wet. They tilt up in that teasing smile of hers that delivers a breathtaking punch to the gut.
Unable to resist, I reach out and twirl a springy strand around my finger. “You’re here.”
“Yes, well…” She breaks off when the door across the hall opens and my neighbour, Daphne Adamo appears. At eighty-two, she’s sprightly with stylishly cropped silver hair and sharp eyes.
“Oh, you have a date,” she exclaims above the blare from her television pouring out into the hall. “Such a pretty thing.”
“Thank you.” Jazz returns her beaming smile. “I’m Jazz Legend.”
“What a unique name.”
