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When the man—the very handsome man with dark brown hair and eyes I could see were green—turned around and looked straight at me, I nearly gasped. Standing less than a foot from me was Sumner Copeland, whose photos I’d studied, and yet I hadn’t recognized him when he first walked in.
“What did you say?”
“I…um…said I was here first.”
He shrugged and went back to his phone.
“He gets lost in his own world,” said the woman he’d called Lindsey. “What can I get you?”
I couldn’t think straight; I couldn’t even focus on the menu. If I weren’t starving, I’d walk out. “I’ll have the gyro salad also.”
“Anything else?” she asked, punching my order into the computer.
“Hey, Linds, we’re all out of gyro. That last order was it for today.”
I hadn’t formed my own opinion about Sumner Copeland—until now. The muscle-bound jerk was an asshole.
“What was that? Did you just call me an asshole?”
Had I said it out loud? I looked at Lindsey, who was trying not to laugh, so I must have. I wasn’t going to lie, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to apologize. “Yep. I sure did.”
He put his phone in his pocket. “Why?”
“First, I was here before you. Second, I wanted the gyro salad, which I could’ve had if you hadn’t butted in front of me and taken the last order.”
He pointed up at the menu. “They have lots of other things. The cobb salad is good.”
“I don’t want a cobb salad.”
“Let her have the gyro,” I heard Lindsey say.
“What? No! That’s ridiculous.”
“Tell you what,” she offered. “Order anything you want. It’ll be on the house, and if you come back tomorrow, I’ll save you some gyro.”
“That’s very nice of you, but this isn’t your fault,” I said, glaring up at the man next to me. How the hell tall was he? His dossier said six-something. His muscular chest looked to be at least three feet wide. I couldn’t help but continue my perusal down his body. The sleeves of his collared shirt were tight around his chiseled arms, and the pair of faded jeans he wore hugged his thighs.
“The menu is up there,” he said, pointing.
“What?”
He pointed again at the board and then at Lindsey. “You’re keeping her waiting.”
“You know what? Forget it. I lost my appetite.” I walked toward the same door I came in, but stopped and thanked the woman behind the counter. “I’ll come back another time.”
She smiled and waved. “Have a good one, girl.”
2
COPE
“Cope,” said Lindsey in a tone of voice that sounded like my mother. “That wasn’t nice.”
I watched the little spitfire use the crosswalk and go inside the building across the way. Her brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail that swayed in time with her ass as she walked.
She had on clothes that looked more like she should be working out—I hated it when women wore yoga pants and training tanks as everyday clothing—but the ensemble accentuated her fit body in a way that it wouldn’t have flattered one less athletic.
Even though she was mad as hell—over a salad, who does that—she was gorgeous. I could only imagine how pretty she’d be if she smiled, not something I’d likely ever see since I doubted I’d run into her again in a city with a population closing in on a million.
