Pink climbed her neck, and he blinked. She was too damn innocent for the darkness she was tangled in. The senator would have her throat slit and her body dumped in a shallow grave where no one would ever find her if it meant protecting his reputation. “I’m surprised you came. I gave you a clear exit,” he said, wanting a deeper understanding of what she was thinking.
She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe I was just curious.”
“About the coffee?” he asked, letting a thread of dry amusement slip through.
A faint smile touched her lips. “About the man who recommends it.”
There it was. The way she looked at him just now was the focus of that sharp, journalistic curiosity aimed squarely at his core, and the sensation was deeply unsettling.
“Curiosity killed the cat,” he murmured. The warning was as much for his own traitorous pulse as it was for her.
“So why are you here, Tonio? In this town. And don’t tell me it’s for the coffee,” she asked, gaze steady.
The dance was over. He allowed a fractional smile. “A man can’t enjoy a change of scenery?”
“A man like you?” she asked, leaning forward, her voice dropping into something that curled heat through his gut. “Try being honest.”
“Honest about what?” he drawled.
“About whether I can trust being around you.”
He lifted a brow. “Are you so sure I’m trying to pull something over on you?”
“I’ve had a special skill since I was young,” she said softly. “My mother taught me how to smell bullshit miles away. And I smell it on you.”
“So I’ve gone from being cute to smelling like cow shit,” he said dryly.
She laughed—bright, surprised—and then sobered quickly, as if the sound had startled her. The sweetness of it punched straight into his chest, tugging him toward her in a way he damn well hadn’t expected.
“You look gorgeous when you smile,” he murmured before he could stop himself.
Her eyes warmed. “Ah, so you are also a flatterer.”
“Is it working?”
She tilted her head, studying him. “Do you want it to work, Tonio?”
He gave a slow smile. “Very much.”
“Which woman doesn’t like her vanity to be petted?” she drawled. “Maybe after I learn a little more about you, I’ll be more open to your interest. Tell me… are you married?”
That query surprised him. “I wouldn’t be here with you if I were.”
She arched a brow. “Why not? Married men can be friends with women, and they can share a coffee at a diner.”
“Not with the kind of want I feel for you,” he replied, his voice low. “If I were committed, I would stay far away.”
Something flickered in her gaze—interest, wariness, and desire all tangled together—and Tonio felt it strike him like a match against steel.
His words hung between them, heavy and tangible. He met her gaze, letting his mask slip just enough to show his attraction.
“So it’s mutual,” she said, looking inexplicably shy.
Fuck. He wanted to tell her to get up and run, to listen to the instinct whispering that a boogeyman was haunting her steps.
“What do you do, Tonio?”
“My family has a business. Sometimes clients become…complicated, and someone on our team needs to address their expectations. I’m here to tidy up an old account.” A vague truth—useless, yet confessional.
