The girls back at the bookstore would disown me if I ever told them what I was thinking. But it didn’t matter. I’d go to my grave believing that this stranger deserved to be on the cover of every romance novel written from now until the end of time. Dash Rapture who?
Zane’s body turned just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his back when he tossed his hoodie on the sidewalk. A gnarly purple bruise stretched across it.
I gasped. “What happened?”
He shrugged. “I took my shirt off?” The question in his voice told me my communication skills might need a little work.
“Your back. That bruise.” Working on my communication skills would have to wait for another day. My brain was only functioning on a two-word-per-sentence level at the moment.
I blamed the abs.
He looked over his shoulder, one hand holding onto it as he tried to catch a glimpse of his back. Reminding me of an adorable puppy chasing his tail, he turned a three-sixty just for me. My hand instinctively rummaged around in my purse looking for something to fan myself with. Apart from the bruise, he was spectacularly perfect. I shook my head, trying to break loose the words I wanted to say. “Are you in a fight club or something?”
Zane’s easy laughter hit me deep inside, easing my concerns and making me wish I could bottle the feeling it gave me. “Something like that. Now, turn around. I want this to be a surprise.”
“Turn around?” As in, he wanted me to stop taking in the sights he’d so graciously provided?
He nodded and spun his index finger in a little circle, making sure I got the message. I did. I’m not going to lie; my bottom lip might have pouted a little when I turnedmy back on Zane.
But the few moments he was out of my line of sight gave me some space to think about what was going on between me and this hunky stranger. I shook my head in disbelief. Who would have ever imagined that not caring what anyone thought of you would be a viable flirtation strategy?
I’d always been the librarian type—and not the hot librarian type either. I didn’t go around wearing tight pencil skirts or blouses with buttons straining to rein in my womanly bounty. I didn’t sit around on desks with stilettos on my feet and legs crossed while chewing seductively on the earpiece of my glasses.
I wore comfortable maxi skirts, often paired with dorky t-shirts sporting book-ish sayings. My preferred choice in footwear during the winter was faux-fur-lined booties. As for glasses, I wore them when I needed to read. They weren’t a prop used to draw attention to my pouty lips.
Long story short, I wasn’t the kind ofwoman who attracted guys like Zane. He and I were so different; he was like a member of an alien race—a race I could have a lot of fun with. But fun was where it would end. There was no hope of anything lasting with a guy like him. One look at me in my natural habitat would have him running for the hills.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy myself for as long as the illusion could last.
“Check it,” he said.
I turned around and clapped a hand over my grinning mouth. On the other side of the rack, stood a six-foot-something, chiseled masterpiece of a man wearing a vintage t-shirt that was at least two sizes too small. The words “puppy love” were printed in bubble letters above a cartoonish drawing of a black dog that bore an uncanny resemblance to Percy.
Zane performed a sweeping motion with his arms that I half-expected to be accompanied by a sing-songrendition of the exclamationta-daaaaa. “What do you think?” he asked.
“It’s better than the tulip, I’ll grant you that. But isn’t it a little small?”
He shrugged. “I usually wear my t’s a little tight.” He flexed, waltzing up his side of the rack toward me. “You know, gotta keep the fans happy.”
I rested my forearms on the top of the rack, leaning in toward him as the smile on my face widened. “And just how manyfansdo you have?”
His eyes sparked as exciting secrets swirled in their depths. “A few.” With his gaze locked onto mine, he took a deep breath and added, “But none of them are as interesting as you.”
Okay, he was full of it, but something inside me liked it. “I have to say,” I said, taking in the goofy doggy grin on his shirt, “Percy never looked better.”
“Told you this shirt was a winner. Besides, it’ll remind me of you.”
“There you go again, saying youneed something to remember me by. Am I reallythatforgettable?”
Zane’s laugh rumbled deep inside him. He took a step closer, electricity arcing between us and singeing the air. “You’re more unforgettable than you realize.”
I blinked up at him, a haze filling my mind that made it hard to think of anything but his crystal-blue eyes. They were like ice—hot, fiery ice, if that was even possible. My mouth went dry and my mind went blank. There wasn’t a witty comeback for a compliment like that.
I stepped closer, not caring that I was disturbing the hangers. He was a magnet, and I was caught in his pull.
The corner of his mouth curved into a knowing smile that said it all. I was hooked and he knew it. My heart fluttered wildly in my chest, waiting for him to speak again—goodness knows, I didn’t know what to say. But before he could say another word,Percy forced his way through the clothing on the rack, lunging for Zane’s discarded hoodie on the ground.
The rack teetered enough to bring the shop owner through the front door, shouting at us in some language I didn’t understand. But Zane caught it before it toppled over.
