That was never more apparent than when I drew a deep breath, inhaling the scent long branded in my memory. It permeated every inch of the small space. Intoxicating as it was addictive. She was sandalwood and smoldering spice, with a touch of floral, maybe roses.
It was exotic.
“Five-foot-three is pretty average,” she blurted out. “I get my height from my mother. And I was also a gymnast. You know how they say that rigorous training could stunt growth? But I think that’s just a myth.”
She kept talking, but all I could process was one word.
“A gymnast?”
Her admission brought forth a plethora of obscene images—my mind now in the goddamn gutter.
“Yeah. A long time ago.”
Evangelina’s gaze turned distant as if the subject was a sore one. I shouldn’t care. I didn’t want to. But a small part of me was undeniably intrigued. I filed it away. Maybe it was a tidbit of information that would serve to my advantage later.
“Turn in here,” I instructed, pointing to our right, but with eyes solely on her.
She avoided my gaze as she eased into a parking spot. It wasn’t until she cut the engine and exhaled a quick breath that she finally turned my way.
“You’re staring. And you haven’t really answered my question about my dad. You have all this information on my godfather, these crazy accusations. You say you found me through my father, so you must have seen something… or hopefully nothing.”
I leaned forward, my elbow on the center console. Our faces were inches apart, yet Evangelina made no effort to move away. She wet her lips, and I had the strangest impulse to lick across the same path.
“I’m staring because I never thought you’d be this goddamn beautiful.” The ring of chocolate brown in her eyes thinned. And a pink flush colored her cheeks and across the light dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose. “As far as I know, your father is exactly who you think he is.”
I lied again.
And indeed, not for the last time.
She placed both hands on the wheel and shook her head with a sigh of relief and a hint of a smile on her lips.
* * *
The café was bustling with people. Having been open for less than three months, the place had yet to lose its novelty. I walked closely behind Eva as we made our way to a corner booth, brushing my fingers over the small of her back as we moved through the crowd. I’d perfected my death glare over the years, and it usually took no more than one look to have people shifting uncomfortably in the other direction. Today was no different. Only now, I had Evangelina. Never one to be concerned with watching anyone else’s back but mine outside of a job, this was new territory.
“Shit!” A clumsy teenager with some ridiculous drink tripped over his own damn feet and tumbled toward her. I righted him by the collar of his shirt, fisting the fabric to keep him steady. “Sorry, man. I slipped,” he said with a higher pitch than he probably intended.
“Watch where you’re going,” I gruffed before releasing him. Eva tossed glances between us until the lanky kid took off. “What?”
“You scared him to death. He’s just a kid.”
“Thatkidshould probably be in school right now. And if it weren’t for me, you’d be covered in cream and caramel drizzle.”On second thought.“Unless that’s what you’d prefer?”
Not missing my unintentional double entendre, she looked away quickly, but not before I caught her blushing a second time. And I couldn’t help grinning as I followed her toward a booth, satisfied I could affect her the way she had me.
Motioning for her to sit, I slid onto the bench on the opposite side, my back to the wall as always. In my line of work, precaution and paranoia went hand-in-hand, and letting my guard down was never an option.
“This place used to be a garage?” she asked, glancing around and effectively changing the subject. “Impressive.”
“Your first time here?”
“No, I’m just pretending.” My left eye twitched at her sarcasm. It could have come off as an insult from anyone else, but I couldn’t deny that it had the opposite effect. Her defiance seemed to be hot-wired to my dick.
She had a fire to her. And I liked it.
“I’m sorry,” she said, leaning back against the cushioned seat. “I’m still hung up on what happened back at your home, and that wasn’t even your fault. You must think I’m a bitch.”
“Already assured you he’d be dealt with. And I don’t think that. This must be a lot to take in. I get it. I’ve been there.” Resting my forearms on the table, hands clasped together, I pinned her with a smoky stare.
