Seduced In The City

Britney Addleson, one of the waitresses from the diner near his apartment, stopped him midstride with a hand on his chest. The move surprised him—it was more forward than he appreciated—but he happened to catch Sara’s reaction, and okay, it was worth the intrusion to see that spark of outrage.

“I didn’t know you came to this store,” Britney said, making sure he was aware of her prominent breasts, snug in her white T-shirt.

“I was just passing by. I have to be at the office in about ten minutes, so I’m going to have to get a move on or be late. See you at the diner.”

Britney’s shocked expression wasn’t satisfying, except that it let him extricate himself without doing too much damage. It wasn’t a surprise to see her blush and walk away. The clock, though, had been ticking this whole time, and he couldn’t wait much longer to choose his endgame. Confrontation? Or gentle persuasion?

* * *

WHY SARA WAS taken aback by the women so blatantly flirting with Dom made zero sense. This was a pattern she’d seen for years, up to and including her own sister.

Just because Sara had hidden her crush successfully didn’t mean she was guilt free. Of course, all she’d gotten for her efforts was lethal doses of private and public humiliation. Hard to forget that, even when the conversation seemed so easy between them. Beneath that suave visage, she knew he still had questions, and until she answered him or convinced him the past didn’t matter, he’d wear her down. And how she could equate that to sex and be thrilled about it was just plain sick.

For now, though, the smart move was to keep shopping, pretend he wasn’t even there. Right behind her. So close that she was feeling slightly giddy. Without a glance his way, she continued going up and down aisles, adding to her cart.

Of course she couldn’t help noticing that he looked great. Slim dark dress slacks, a tailored shirt that showed off his physique and what looked like a silk tie. He seemed taller, broader, just since the other night, which told her she’d better get her feet planted and her head out of the clouds.

Sara hadn’t realized she’d stopped until he almost rammed into her from behind.

She grabbed the first thing she saw—a can of olives.

“I’m surprised you don’t buy that sort of thing in bulk,” Dom said.

“Thanks for your concern. I’m shopping for the house, too.”

“Ah.”

“Why are you still here?”

“Am I making you nervous?” He flashed a smile. “I apologize,” he said, taking a step back.

“Make me nervous?” she said with a snort. “I figured you’d go trailing after one of your girlfriends.”

“You must have me confused with someone else. No girlfriend.”

“Well, whatever you call it,” she muttered, and swung around to the next aisle.

He switched to walking beside her. “It?”

Sara sighed loudly and tried not to let his pleasant masculine scent distract her.

“There is one way to get rid of me.”

“Yeah? Name it.” She bit down on her lip. He’d baited her, and she’d snapped at it. No doubt he was waiting with a smile. She’d be damned if she’d look.

Oh, hell, she should just let him ask his question. Get the whole thing over with.

Somehow her cart headed straight for the checkout. Without any prompting from her. She insisted he go through first. Before she could sigh with relief, he paid for his water and mints and waited at the end of the counter.

Until she started unloading, she hadn’t realized she’d overbought by quite so much. She stared at the groceries, trying to think of an elegant way to tell Mr. Stein she wanted to put half of it back. No dice. She was stuck with all of it.

None of it was stupid stuff. Just more than they needed. She’d never be able to walk it all to the restaurant, and she hated spending money on a cab when she should have had two bags, max.

Mr. Stein had already filled her canvas bag and another larger, paper one, and he stared over the top of his thick black-framed glasses at the groceries he had yet to ring up. Bending over slowly, he brought a large box out from under the counter. He scanned the remaining items and packed them into the box.

Sara had her credit card ready when the older man gave her the total.

Mr. Stein lifted a corner of the box, testing the weight. “Sara,” he said, “how are you going to carry all of this to the restaurant? You have a cab waiting?”

Dom coughed. Or laughed, it didn’t matter.

She slid in her credit card with the utmost lack of concern. “Why should I do that when I’ve got free labor?” She inclined her head at Dom, without so much as a glance.

Mr. Stein looked over at him. “He’s going to ruin his good shirt.”

“I’m sure he has more.”

No mistaking Dom’s laugh this time.

Finally, after she signed the chip machine, she looked at him and smiled. “Although I’ll understand if you need to pass. I’m sure it’s pretty heavy.”

Okay, she deserved the eye roll. When he actually lifted the box, her gaze went straight to his biceps, and she had to swallow real quick, because yes, the guy really did work out. Shit. He’d always had a good body, but now he was even sleeker with broad shoulders and narrow hips.

Aware she was staring, she grabbed the canvas bag. With an amused gleam in his eyes, Mr. Stein glanced from her to Dom, then held out the paper sack for her.

“Lead on, Macduff,” Dom said.

Sara opened her mouth, but before she could correct him, he said, “Yeah, I know it’s not the original quote, but it was fun watching your nose twitch.”

“It did not,” she said, shifting the bag in her right arm to a more comfortable position. “Besides, I was going to say I was joking. I can take a cab if you would just help me get the box—”

He laughed and walked out of the store.

She had little choice but to catch up with him.

This whole thing had slipped out of her control. Not in a terrible way, but she most definitely wasn’t in her comfort zone. “I thought you had to be somewhere,” she said, as they stopped at the corner of Prince Street.

“I do, but not until my one-thirty interview.”

“What for?”

“A public relations firm. Oh, and I need to get a trim,” he said, straining to get a look at his watch. “Gotta make a good impression.”

“I think you’re going to do fine in that department,” she said, as they reached the end of the block. Any PR firm in the country would be nuts not to hire Dom on the spot.

“Hey, was that a compliment?” Dom said. “Better be careful—you don’t want me getting a big head.”

“Too late for that.”