“Speaking of colors, you went ahead and hung the hideous swordfish,” I say, taking the out she’s given me and changing the subject. I have no intention of hurting this sweet, precious girl, and that’s exactly what would happen if I acted on the invitation she might be making, even if unconsciously.
“I did it on purpose. I wanted to make sure it’d be up when you arrived.”
I raise an eyebrow, surprised by her frankness. “To shock me?” I ask.
Instead of answering, she pulls a kind of tablet out of her apron. The uniform is hideous but fitted, hugging her sexy hipsand tracing her breasts, which seem temptingly large for her slim frame.
I’d have to be blind not to notice the spectacular body she has.
She keeps her head down, pretending to fuss with the device, but I can tell all her senses are trained on me. Despite the faux-casual air, her posture is tense.
“May I go over tonight’s special?” she asks with a sweet smile, one I’m sure she gives every customer, clearly dodging my question.
“Not until you tell me if you rushed to hang that fish just to shock me.”
“I’m not great at polite answers. Since I’m not much of a talker, I come off as a bit combative sometimes.”
“I don’t have a problem with that.”
“All right. I’m not sure if I wanted to shock you or not. Maybe I wanted to show you that the world isn’t necessarily as black and white as you seem to think.”
“I said I didn’t like color. I never said anything about black and white.”
“That’s implied.”
“No, it’s not.”
“How?”
“There are non-color nuances between those two extremes.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who gives a damn about nuance.”
And how the hell did she pick up on that in just three interactions? Alexis seems to know that I pretend to care about the world when, in truth, most of the time I really don’t—even noticing that people are breathing around me is optional.
Who are you, Alexis?
How is a young woman managing to hold my attention better in a five-minute conversation than every woman I’ve ever dated?
“I’m the type who makes firm choices. If I decide I want something, I go and get it.”
I see her throat move as she swallows hard, and I know the conversation has shifted—subtly but unmistakably—from colors to something more intimate. It surprises me. That wasn’t my plan.
I lower my gaze to the menu and try to focus on food. There’s no point in letting this flirtation go further. She’s far too young for me, even for a weekend fling.
“And what happens when you don’t want it anymore?”
“What?”
“You said you go and get what you want. So what happens when you stop wanting it?”
I drop the menu, giving up the pretense of caring about the food, and accept that this sharp-tongued blonde is the most intriguing creature I’ve dealt with in a long time.
In fact, Alexis would be dangerous for a less experienced man. She’s beautiful, sure, but also intelligent. A sharp mind that sees beneath the surface.
“How old are you?”
“Almost twenty-three. Why?”
