Chapter 2 #3
“The main event is tomorrow night, a festive ball and silent auction. Be prepared for stuffed shirts and Barbie dolls.” As she turned to face me, the prepared coffee in her hand, she placed the index finger of her other across her mouth.
As if she’d been a bad girl.
If only the baristas at my local Starbucks had this much personality.
“Don’t worry,” I told her as I pulled out my debit card. “I won’t tell a soul. Thanks for the warning.”
“Any time.”
As I slipped my card into my fanny pack, I headed to the condiment bar, eager to add a little flavored cream. With most expenses paid for the trip, I could afford limited luxuries for myself. Hopefully, my bank account wouldn’t scream bloody murder.
I left the area before I returned the creamer top and by the time I reached the entrance I was laughing at myself for being so inept in doing so. Perhaps the simple act was too challenging for my foggy brain this morning.
Still in a hurry, I continued fiddling with trying to yank the zipper on my pack while heading into the hallway. My instinct that I wasn’t alone kicked in about the same time a blur crossed the periphery of my vision. Right before I bumped into something solid.
Rock-hard solid with the scent of one of the very savage men the barista had mentioned.
The coffee cup slipped from my hand, the lid jumping into the air. In a moment when gravity had full rein, the scalding liquid was pitched horizontally from my body into a high arc. Physics took over from there, the slow-motion tumble tossed away from my shaking body.
And directly onto the person hoping to grab a delicious beverage of their own.
My gasp was nothing in comparison to a deep baritone exclamation of the person I’d slammed into.
“Fuck.” The man’s deep voice was filled with exasperation, a gut-wrenching sound that screamed of sheer agony.
“Oh, no.” I was momentarily lost in his incredible sculpted physique to react in any other way. He was tall, broad-shouldered and with long, muscular legs. His forearms were works of art.
Fortunately, he took a giant stride backward, which broke the magical spell, although it would seem the two of us were locked in a strange, hypnotic moment even as liquid dripped from one arm, cascading ever so silently to the polished marble floor.
The rest of the coffee had created an instant work of art on his crisp white shirt.
Thankfully, he wasn’t wearing a tie, but sadly, he’d rolled up the sleeves so the hot liquid would certainly burn his golden skin.
He had a presence about him screaming of both power and danger, the type of man where a perceived accident wouldn’t go over well. His smoldering good looks captured and kept my attention, shoulders wide enough to strain the freshly pressed shirt.
His hair was black, thick and curly with a hint of messiness that seemed intentional.
A quick dash fresh from the shower. His handsome face had me in awe, my breath hitching.
He was all sharp angles and chiseled features, as if someone had carved him from marble without smoothing the edges: aristocratic and holding an air of arrogance that on him was entirely too sexy.
Everything about the dark and dangerous mystery man screamed money and a clear and easy ability to sue for irreparable harm to his reputation as being the savviest person on Earth.
The jolt as the cup dropped to the floor jerked me completely back into reality and I sensed my expression was one of horror as I dared look into his eyes. “I am so sorry.”
At this point in my life, I prided myself on being unaffected by handsome men, especially those wearing such a scowl.
But with the handsome stranger, the hard look in his eyes and the way his angular jaw was clenched in frustration held a certain sex appeal.
He was close to being the most exquisite man I’d ever been this close to.
“Oh, wow,” I continued, mostly involuntarily given the horror of what I’d done. “You must be one of the male models.” What I wouldn’t give to see him in an itsy-bitsy loincloth.
Where there should be fury ebbing from every pore in the man, other than the single word of shock, he didn’t utter another word, nor did his expression indicate anything other than sheer boredom.
I almost wanted him to scream and yell or jump up and down. The only movement was in the flick of his eyes drifting down to my toes and back again. Still with no expression.
“Let me get you some towels. Again, I’m very sorry.
I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.
” Even after issuing the statement, I seemed frozen on the spot.
He was certainly a man of substance with being at least six foot four, weighing in at a trim two ten maybe and I would have thought someone of his stature was prepared to use intimidation tactics.
He didn’t.
Nor did he say anything else.
He simply sidestepped me and walked away, taking a solid step into the liquid pooling on the floor.
When he’d disappeared from view, I finally took a deep breath.
What a way to start a morning.