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He wrinkled his nose but his eyes sparked at my earnestness. “TMI.”
I grinned. “I thought we should start as we mean to go on.”
Interest flared to life in the depths of those green orbs. “You did, huh?”
“I did.”
It was his turn to grin. “I like the sound of that. More than anything, I like the sound of a second date.”
>
As I cuddled into his arm, I only murmured, “Me too.”
And I meant it. I really did.
The door opened and the scent of tomato and oregano overwhelmed me. That, and baking bread.
Had I died and gone to heaven?
It smelled awesome in here! It had been too long since I’d been able to afford anything other than store bought pizza, and I seriously felt like sniffing the air like a damn dog just to revel in all the glorious aromas permeating my immediate vicinity.
“Did you just moan?” Max asked, sounding amused now.
I clapped a hand to my mouth as he outright laughed. I glared at him. “I didn’t moan.”
“You totally did,” he whispered into my ear, tilting his head so that he could bend down to reach me. His lips brushed the outer curve of my earlobe and I felt myself shudder at the perfectly innocent touch. More of that strange fire slalomed through my veins as I felt his silken mouth against that tender shell, and I found I had to withhold a whimper that longed to break free of my throat. “I’ll forgive you for the white lie though. Just this once.”
My own mouth felt strangely dry when he pulled back, and I saw the banked heat in his eyes. Heat that felt like it scorched me soul deep. I gulped, stunned by my response, then whispered, “What if it happens again?”
He laughed. “Don’t try it.” But he winked to take the sting out of it.
I looked up at him, amazed at the crinkles spanning his eyes, the lines that appeared with each and every smile. When he was stony-faced, as he often was behind the computer screen, he looked too perfect to be real.
He was gorgeous with his dark hair and gorgeously contrasting olive skin.
But in real life, with just the bare few inches between us, I saw the imperfections. Saw the pieces of the man that made him authentic, and to me, he was a thousand times more beautiful than he’d been earlier.
The realization had me swallowing, and maybe he saw the shift in my mood because the heat was replaced with a dark, sinuous velvet promise that curled around me like the best hug in the universe.
Which was strange because I knew the last thing he wanted to do was hug me right then, and that fact didn’t freak me the hell out.
“Max! What are you doing here?”
The Italian-accented voice popped the bubble into which we’d cocooned ourselves, and I jolted in surprise, jerking back and away from Max as I turned, wide-eyed, to look at the invader of our private, intimate moment.
A private and intimate moment I totally wasn’t ready for.
Let’s walk before we can run, girl, I chided myself, even as I turned a bland smile on the newcomer.
“Giorgio!” Max declared, grinning as the man grabbed him and kissed his cheeks, European style.
I was kind of stunned to see the older, portly guy kissing my date, but I guess it meant they were friends.
Huh.
Billionaire Max Greene was friends with a local mom and pop owner.
It almost beggared belief.
