Goddamn.
Still as stunning as she was the other night. I catch myself just before I shake my head in disbelief. I sat in that restaurant chair, nailed to the seat and chairback by shock. The hair, the earrings, even the eyes, I remembered from when she’d shown up on my doorstep. But all of her facial features? No, those had escaped me. But they didn’t at that table, and they don’t now.
Those dark, tight curls that I want to grip a handful of and hold up to the light and determine for myself if they’re black, brown, or a gorgeous sensual blend of both. Yeah, that’s not all I’d want to do with those curls while I had them. Beautiful, oval-shaped chocolate-brown eyes endowed with a thick fringe of lashes. High, sweeping cheekbones that would be wasted on a supermodel—only a queen would do. An elegant nose with wide, flaring nostrils and a mouth. A mouth that would make a teenage boy blush and a grown man groan. It’s a work of erotic art, a sinful masterpiece.
Yeah, I don’t know how I missed that face.
The slam of the back door shutting yanks my gaze from her, and I glance at the blonde, who rounds the car, her eyes widening as she catches sight of us.
“I think that’s for me, not you,” Jordan stage-whispers to me.
He’s enjoying this way too damn much.
“Jordan Ransom,” the blonde breathes. “Are you finally here to sweep me away from the drudgery of my everyday life and carry me toyour magnificent mansion for an easy, carefree life of domestic bliss, Jimmy Choos, and orgasmic lovemaking?”
I choke while Jordan releases a loud crack of laughter that echoes across the parking lot. His whole huge bod shakes with hilarity.
“Oh. My.God, Miriam,” the woman I’ve come to see half snaps, half groans.
“What?” The blonde—Miriam—shrugs. “It’s a fair question.”
“It is.” Jordan crosses his arms and purses his lips, as if actually giving this ridiculousness thought. “I can give you the domestic bliss—if by that you mean people cleaning up after your shit—shoes, and orgasms. Definitely the orgasms. But for how long, sweetheart? Basketball season is about to start, so this isn’t going to have a long shelf life. You up for a week?”
“Two.”
“A week and a half and courtside tickets to our first game.”
“Meh.” Miriam waves a hand, flicking off his counteroffer. “I don’t really care that much about basketball. Too many rules to follow. How about a week, those tickets so I can sell them on eBay, I get to keep all the shoes, and you throw in a shopping trip at the Cherry Creek Mall?”
“You drive a hard bargain, Marilyn. But counteroffer accepted.”
“Awesome.” She beams, and oddly mystified, I gawk at them like they’re an Olympic table tennis match. “And it’s Miriam, not Marilyn.”
“Not with that hair.”
Miriam snorts. “Men. Next thing you know you’ll be asking if the carpet matches the drapes.”
This time, my Dear John dumper chokes, and one quick look reveals she appears about three seconds away from committing at least a second-degree felony against the blonde.
Jordan tilts his head back. “Does it?”
Ohshit.
Miriam pauses. Blinks. “Yes.”
Holy ...
“Miriam, dammit,” my dumper growls, and though her murderous glare is directed at the totally unrepentant blonde, that low rumble vibrates down my spine ... my cock.
Hell, I shouldn’t have come over here. Should’ve got my ass in my car, headed home, and fucked my fist before returning to the office. Because if I’m getting hard at a goddamngrowl, then this no-sex situation is more dire than I assumed. I need to get fucked sooner rather than later.
“Please excuse my sister,” she continues through gritted teeth. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mr.Ransom.” She shifts her deep-brown gaze to me, and though we’ve been in each other’s presence two times now—three counting today—it’s still a visceral punch in the gut. “It’s nice to see you again, Cyrus.”
I nod, pretending that the husky melody of her voice isn’t sweeping over my skin in its own personal, seductive song. Goddamn, that voice. It’s a singer’s instrument, a siren’s weapon.
“You too.”
“Oh, you and Zora know each other?” Miriam tilts her head, her gaze switching from me to her sister. Sister. I should’ve known. Besides the different hair color and the difference in height, they both share the same wealth of gorgeous curls, the same gleaming teak skin, and the same pretty brown eyes. “Where and how did you two meet?”
