He lifted an eyebrow. "Lurking? I'm trying to find an exit."
"You're acting all shifty," I accused. "Like you're up to no good."
"Sweetheart, I'm never up to any good."
There was a playful lilt to his low tones. A certain glint in his blue eyes. They turned his innocent words into something more. Something naughty.
He scanned up and down my body, slowing, lingering. It felt as if flames were licking every inch of skin his eyes fell upon. By the time he dragged his gaze back to mine, my cheeks were on fire. A teasing smile crept across his full lips as my face turned pink.
"You work here?" he asked. "Maybe you can help me find a side exit?"
He must have noted my t-shirt with the hospital's logo. I let go of his jacket and stepped back, putting space between us.
"Can't you just walk out the front door like a normal person?" I asked, trying not to sound flustered.
"Ah. No." The teasing smile turned rueful. "I can't, actually."
"Why not?"
He cocked his head to the side, a question in his eyes as he held my gaze. A sort of challenge, almost. The rest of the world went fuzzy as I tried to decipher exactly what answer he might be looking for. My limbs felt like lead, as if they were weighed down by something heavy and dense. The tips of my ears burned.
He broke our staring contest. "You have no idea who I am, do you?"
I blinked, everything coming back into focus again. My hands trembled.
What in the world had that been?
I hadn't reacted to anyone like that in… well, years, really. And I'd never had anyone send me reeling with a single look.
Somehow I managed to find my voice.
"Am I supposed to know you who are?" I asked. "Are you some famous movie star or something?"
I'd been kidding, but the corner of his lips curled up. "Close."
I started. This guy was somethingcloseto a movie star?
"An athlete?" I asked. "I don't pay much attention to sports."
"That guess is not as close."
I studied him carefully. He was handsome enough to be an actor, but he said that wasn't it. He was tall with broad shoulders, but not so large as to be some football player.
I caught a hint of a tattoo peeking out from the collar of his t-shirt.
"A tattoo artist?" I guessed, even though I couldn't name a single famous tattoo artist.
"Way off." His eyes twinkled. He was enjoying this.
He certainly was handsome. With sandy-blond hair falling into his eyes and an easygoing expression, he had that cute boy-next-door look. But from the teasing smirk on his lips and the way his eyes wandered slowly up and down my body, I had a feeling this boy-next-door was really the guy your parents always warned you about.
"A model?" I asked.
"I have modeled, yes, but that's not it."
"I don't know," I said, frustrated. "Some internet celebrity with a million followers who like and share every food photo you post?"
"I'm not an internet celebrity, but I do have a lot of followers," he said. "That's why I'm looking for a side exit. Someone spotted me here and posted it online. Now I've got a bunch of fans waiting outside for me."
