Green eyes behind black rimmed glasses, the most unique color in the world, sharp, and penetrating like he’s looking for the lies and secrets that I conceal so well. He smells like heaven, like those cologne samples they used to have in theTeen Voguemagazines I read as a kid and rubbed on my wrists before my parents cancelled the subscription because it was getting too expensive.
This guy’s the definition of handsome. But not in a cookie-cutter way like most of the men who wear suits like second skins in New York City and bark into their cell phones all day. Those guys I would never notice.
No, this man’s good looks carry an edge, like he’s either going to rock your world or murder you. Maybe both.
Hopefully, in that order.
The corner of his mouth lifts into a slight smirk. It’s not cocky, not callous, but he’s curious of me and my obvious, probably glazed over eyes from way too much liquor that are staring at him.
He’s wearing dark, well-fitted suit pants and a crisp white button-up shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up, revealing tanned, muscled forearms.
I’ve always had a thing for arms.
Maybe it’s because I’m five-foot-six. Not short, but not tall either and there’s something about knowing a guy can toss your around that I really, reallylike. And this guy has some of the best arms for tossing that I’ve ever seen.
There’s something about his whole vibes that saysI’m richwithout trying too hard. He’s probably a banker or some finance guy from the city.
Men like him aren’t a common sight in Brookhaven, Connecticut, the rural town where I live that’s caught between New York City and Hartford like a child of divorced parents. It houses mostly blue-collar workers who don’t own a suit or a razor. But guys like him are like a raindrop in a cloud here in the city.
I think I’d like to mess up his hair and see if he minds. I’m guessing he would. And that makes me want to do it even more.
“I’m waiting for my food.” I wave him ahead, though I’m hardly aware of what I’m saying anymore. “You can go ahead of me.”
“Thanks,” he replies smoothly, stepping around me to place his order and ending the moment like a popped bubble.
When he’s done, he stands beside me, much closer than necessary if my calculations are correct, and they probably aren’t given I’m a little tipsy and a lot fawning over how tall he is.
The heat of him radiates against my skin, a physical presence that pulls my focus from the movie that’s playing on the screen in front of us. I’m trying to concentrate, but all I can think about ishim. All I can smell ishim.
I can’t tell whether it’s the shots that I’d consumed with Leo or this guy’s aroma is more intoxicating than alcohol.
How long has it been since I’ve had sex?
Oh yeah, a really,longtime.
“Have you seen this one before?” he asks, nodding toward the screen.
“No,” I say, taking a chance and looking at his face again.
Big mistake. Those glasses are doing things for me and the green eyes behind them look like two, tired gemstones. “But I’m a big fan of Vanessa Mayers. How about you?”
“Haven’t seen it either,” he says with a shrug.
“I was asking if you like Vanessa Mayers, not if you’ve seen the film.”
He chuckles, the sound warm and rich, and when he smiles, I’m momentarily blinded by his perfectly straight teeth. A dimple carves into his jaw, hardly concealed by the dark, short cut beard he keeps on his face, and for the first time, I notice the thick sweep of lashes framing his eyes.
Dammit.
I like the way he laughs.
I like his face.
I like his eyes.
I like his body.
And Ilovethe glasses.
