“You didn’t come over for coffee this morning.” Anthony said. He looked at her through dark lashes, chin lowered, eyesquestioning.
Kira scrambled for an excuse, but decided to spit out the truth instead. “I didn’t want you to get sick ofme.”
Anthony shook his head, sighed, and leaned his elbows onto his knees. “Would you have dinner with metonight?”
The patient sound of his voice, the way he’d presented the question rather than argue with her about what she’d said, all of it took Kira by surprise. A spritz of tingles washed over her skin and somewhere inside her tummy, too. “Yes,” she said. “I’d loveto.”
He stood, stepped over to where he’d draped his leather jacket, and shrugged into it. “Good. We can talk about the diner shoot then,” he said. “My place. I’ll text you the address. Does six o’clock work foryou?”
Kira nodded, still trying to catch up. He must already have her number, because he’d texted her that morning.The sign, she reminded herself. That’s where he’d foundit.
Anthony took three long strides back to the couch where Kira still sat, legs tucked beneath her. She looked up as he neared, gulped as he lowered himself, and let her lashes close as he brushed a kiss over her forehead. “See youtonight.”
And as he strode out of the studio, the chime echoing over the space, Kira rubbed the goose bumps that rose on her arms, loving the effect he had onher.
