was a teenager, it was more of a diner than a fine restaurant.
Micah walked inside and stopped in his tracks, shocked to find the dining room full. Though it was way past the lunch hour, the only seats available were at the bar.
A few heads turned as he made his way back. Being recognized always gave him a rush. He openly welcomed fame, but even more, the money and notoriety that came with it.
He slid onto a wooden bar stool that had seen better days, and reminded himself that the only appeal of the place was the food. His stomach rumbled as he inhaled the comforting scents of garlic, hot pepper sauce and olive oil. He’d grabbed a quick bite at the airport, but hadn’t eaten since.
Several feet away, down a small hallway to his right, a door he knew led to the kitchen suddenly swung open. A woman emerged, holding a tray in one hand, high above her head.
She walked toward him, hips swaying side to side in the most tantalizing way. He envied the red-checkered apron riding shotgun on her short denim miniskirt. His lower body tensed and tightened, so much so that he was glad he was sitting down. Suddenly, Lucy’s had more than one thing going for it.
The woman reached the bar and frowned. Micah noticed that there was no place to set the tray.
He half swiveled in his seat. “Allow me.”
Facing her, without waiting for a response, he lifted the tray from her hands.
She cocked her head at him, gave a little smile and then served the elderly couple sitting on his left their meals.
When she was finished, he gave her back the tray, which she promptly stuck under her arm.
Since he was sitting right next to the pass-through to the bar, he lifted it, telling himself it was the courteous thing to do. But the truth was he just wanted to see her smile again.
With a nod, but not a smile, she skirted through, and he slowly released the counter into place.
She set the tray on top. “Thanks for your help. I’ll take your order in a moment.”
The southern accent he detected in her voice nestled into his senses as he watched her refill drinks and make sure customers were happy with their food.
Then, she took a rag and wiped down the counter in front of him.
“Sorry for the wait. Welcome to Lucy’s.”
Her T-shirt was black, V-necked, and her cleavage was as deep as her smile. The words Ask Me if I Care were emblazoned across the front in thin silvery cursive.
As she handed him a menu, her breasts riffed against the glossy surface of the bar.
Though it was difficult, he managed to avert his eyes as she poured him a glass of water, but his hard-on tightened uncomfortably as though she were standing in front of him, naked.
A customer a few bar stools down asked her a question and she turned her face away. He gave in to temptation, stealing the moment to soak up the woman’s tantalizing figure.
She was petite and curvy. Short hair spiked in a hip style. Bangs asymmetrical, the longer side skimmed her left eyebrow. Daring him to brush them away so he could see the color of her eyes.
She set a glass of water down in front of him. “Can I tell you about today’s specials?”
As she rattled them off, a pang of desire hit him, confused him.
That voice. That body.
She was the exact opposite of the model-thin types that normally interested him, at least for a night.
“Perhaps,” he said, wanting her to linger. “What’s looking good today?”
Besides you, he thought, biting back the words.
He wanted to tease her, to let her know that he found her very attractive, but it felt disrespectful to do that in a place like Lucy’s.
“All the food is good here,” she continued. “But we’ve been real busy today and have already run out of some of the menu items. Tell me what you want, and I’ll check in with the kitchen to see if we still have it.”
Micah set his menu aside. He already knew what he wanted, besides the luscious woman in front of him.
“How about one of Lucy’s famous jerk chicken sandwiches?”
She arched a perfectly curved brow. “Oh, so you’ve heard about those?”
“I’ve had one or two in my lifetime. I grew up in Bay Point, and used to eat here frequently when I was a teenager.”
“Hmm,” she replied, her eyes roaming his face. “You don’t look much older than that now.”
“Thank you. I guess I age well.”
He gave her his most disarming smile, happy that his boyish good looks had netted him another fine catch.
“I’m Micah Langston. And you are?”
“Jasmine Kennedy.”
He reached out his hand, and her palm felt cool to the touch. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Langston.” She tilted her head. “Are you any relation to—?”
“The mayor? He’s my older brother.”
Jasmine’s cheeks dimpled and seemed to light up her face.
“The rumors are true then. Good looks do run in the family.”
He leaned back a little. Her flirtatious compliment spiraled through him, warming his insides, catching him off guard, though he suspected she didn’t mean a word of it.
Seconds later, he chided himself. When was the last time he ever cared what any woman thought about him?
“I like you already.”
She smiled and laid down a napkin, followed by a knife, fork and spoon on top. “I’ll bet you’ll like me even more if we have any jerk chicken left. Let me go see. Be right back.”
He turned his head and watched her leave. Her mini-skirt hugged her curves so tight he wished he had X-ray eyes.
Her hip bumped against the kitchen door, causing it to swing open. When she disappeared behind it, it was like all the air had gone out of the room with her.
Micah gulped down some water, icy cold, but not cold enough to calm the lust she had unknowingly kindled.
To distract himself, he glanced around the restaurant.
The decor hadn’t changed much from when he was a kid. Autographed photos of movies stars he didn’t recognize. African masks draped with Mardi Gras beads. Old porcelain signs that were likely reproductions and other so-called antique treasures cluttered the walls.
He wrinkled his nose. So different from his taste. He favored sleek,
