“I… uh… have pizza questions.”
He raises both eyebrows.
Shit.
Can eyebrows be sexy?
Because his definitely are.
Perfectly shaped and sleek, like his shoulders in thatvery expensivesuit.
Wait.
Who wears a suit like that—with cufflinks—to work at a pizza joint?
He leans his forearms on the counter, dark eyes locked on mine.
And I just… melt.
Oh, wait—nope, that’s still the rainwater dripping off me.
“What would you like to know?” His voice is deep, and throaty—the perfect pitch to seduce.
Having his full attention trained solely on me is… a lot.
It makes me acutely aware of the fact that my red lace bra is on full display beneath my see-through shirt. I clear my throat and shift my weight to the other foot. My shoe makes a soft splash in the puddle beneath me, but the man doesn’t react—he just watches me like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
Okay then.
“Do you have any pizza options that are garlic-free? I’m not seeing the ingredients listed on your menu.”
I gesture vaguely at the board, little droplets of rain flinging off my fingers and scattering across the counter.
He raises an eyebrow again, only one this time, and somehow, it’s even sexier than both. A slow, dashing grin curves his lips, revealing straight, perfectly white teeth. With very sharp-looking canines. The effect is… roguish. Dangerous. And, against all better judgment,veryattractive.
He chuckles quietly, almost to himself, as his eyes dip down, taking me in, inch by inch.
“Oh, Daisy,” he says smoothly. “You won’t find any garlic in this establishment.Ever.”
The pet name sends a swarm of butterflies erupting in my stomach, and I realize, too late, that my flower-shaped birthmark is visible through the soaked fabric of my shirt. Right above my bra line. Right over my heart.
It could look like a million different flowers, depending on your angle, but I’ve always liked to think it was a daisy. For reasons related to Grandma. Reasons I amabsolutely notunpacking tonight.
Nope. Shutting that box right up.
Clearly, he noticed the mark.
And apparently came to the same conclusion.
Interesting.
His gaze returns to mine, steady and expectant, and I realize… he’s waiting for me to respond.
“Right. Well, see, thelastpizza place said that too, and surprise! There was garlic in the sauce. They tried to sneak it in, but my bodyviolentlyrejects garlic, and it was a whole disastrous mess the next?—”
I cut my rambling off when a smirk appears on his face like he’s… amused.
Is he laughing at me?
