have a large capacity for love,” he continued, and Leila hid her smirk. Now he’d get to it, that she was a woman made for love, that she’d never met the right man to—
“But, you’ve haven’t met the man yet who does it for you,” he finished the thought in her mind and she hid her surprise. But really, what else would a man say when trying to get a woman in bed, she thought, and bit her lip to stop from laughing.
“They’re all the same to you, indistinguishable from the next. And easily interchangeable. And easily they irritate you, within a short time.”
She began to grow uncomfortable and laughed nervously. It was just some game, she reminded herself.
He didn’t know her, didn’t know anything about her. It didn’t matter that his words eerily echoed what her great-aunt had once said to her after she’d dumped her latest boyfriend. What Sadie had said was that she had a tendency to let them work her nerves too soon, that if she found fault with any and every little thing a man did, she’d be irritated for the rest of her life. And alone.
“You’re strong willed. Independent for sure,” he laughed as though to himself, totally immersed in what he was doing to the point that Leila felt as if he’d forgotten she was there. “At times too strong.”
Okay…
Then he looked up at her, a strange look in his dark brown eyes, a serious look. Although she knew nothing about him, it was an expression she wouldn’t have expected to see in his eyes. No slick flirtation, no sly sexual vibe was he throwing off.
“You’ll love once. A real love, and that’s all. You’re the type of woman that draws men to you with effortless ease,” he laughed softly, “with the type of ease other women are envious of, and you’re not even aware of. But no one has made an impression on your heart. None of them have managed to touch you in any profound way. Haven’t gotten past that shield you carry.”
Her breath had caught at his words.
“You’ll know the man when you meet him. When you do, it won’t be calm, or sneak up on you gradually. It won’t take many days or months of dating to know that he’s your man. You’ll know the minute you lay eyes on him.”
Leila had laughed it off, and tried to withdraw her hand, but he’d kept his grip firm.
He peered at her intently across the candlelit table and told her, with regret in his dark eyes, “It’s too late for that man to be me. Seems you’ve already met your man. He’s your other half,” he’d said, and Leila had grown even more uncomfortable with her “reading,” unable to shake it off as some ridiculous nonsense.
With more force than before, she pulled her hand back, and unconscious of the meaning behind her actions, had wiped her palm down the side of her skirt, as though to erase the words he’d uttered.
His expression had lightened and he’d allowed her to remove her hand.
The hair at the nape of her neck had stood up, goose bumps had feathered down her arms and she glanced around the crowded restaurant feeling strange, eyes on her, as though someone was watching her.
When she’d hastily gotten to her feet, mumbling that she needed to get away, he’d said nothing. His dark eyes had instead followed her as she’d pushed back her chair and quickly gone to the restroom.
Leila shook her hands, shaking off the excess water, and turned off the gold-tipped faucet, stared at her reflection in the smoky mirror, and blew out a shaky breath. She refused to admit the effect Mateo’s “reading” had on her.
She shook her head as though to erase the image of Brandan that had sprung to her mind, an image that had been hovering in her subconscious since she met him early that morning.
“Are you okay, miss?”
Leila turned away from her reflection in the mirror, smiled absentmindedly at the waiting attendant, and nodded her head before accepting the soft towel the woman held out for her.
Brandan ignored the curious glances cast his way as he leaned against the wall outside the women’s restroom, arms crossed, and waited for Leila to come out.
He glanced down at his watch, impatient.
She’d been in the bathroom for nearly twenty minutes, and the longer he waited the more he wondered what Mateo had said that sent her flying from her chair.
He’d not been able to see her expression from his distance away, but the hurried way she stood, her chair almost toppling in her haste to get away, and the long strides that had taken her across the restaurant in less than a minute had been telling.
Just as he glanced up, the door opened, and although he’d been waiting for her, expecting her to come out, he was caught by surprise when she opened the door and took halting steps, her head down, a deep frown crossing her smooth forehead.
She would have walked past him had he not pushed away from the wall and stood in her path. With an “umph” she bumped into his chest, and he reached his hands out to steady her.
She looked up at him, an apology on her wide, sensual lips, before her eyes widened and she realized who she’d walked into.
“Wha—what are you doing here?”
“Enjoying your dinner date?” he murmured, ignoring her question.
He slowly ran his hands down her arms, ending at the tips of her fingers. So close to her, Brandan saw her response to his touch, feeling the rush of small bumps flash across her smooth honey-colored skin.
Despite her height, coupled with the heels she wore, she still had to look up to meet his eyes. Just barely, but enough for Brandan to notice her small breasts rise with the sudden breath she took, and her nostrils flare at the tips.
Her wide-spaced light brown eyes stared at his mouth.
His cock jumped in response to her reaction to him.
Shit.
What was it about this woman that had his body acting like a randy-ass prepubescent boy, he wondered.
When she tugged her arm away from him, he reluctantly allowed her to go.
“Yes, it’s a beautiful restaurant. But you didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here? I thought you had a date with Tiffany,” she said, a frown creasing her forehead, her brows puckering.
“Angela,” he corrected easily.
She knew what the woman’s name was, of that he had no doubt. She was a sharp woman—he’d found that out from their interchanges over the last few months.
She’d been irritated that he’d had a date. And although that shouldn’t please him, shouldn’t matter one way or another, it did.
“And you didn’t answer my question. Are you enjoying your dinner date?” he murmured, his eyes trained on her lips. She wore no color on them, none that he could detect this close, nothing but a shimmering of gloss, but they were a soft light pink color. His gaze followed her tongue as it snaked out and made a quick swipe across the fuller bottom rim.
Just
