Page 7 of Fake Dating the Silver Fox

It’s only her and me.

A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. “You again.”

Amusement flickers in her wide blue eyes. “I hope Cupid didn’t ruin your next best seller.”

I’m not in a hurry anymore. I take time and write out a message along with the name.To Cupid, thanks for being my muse.

When I hand her the book, our fingers brush and a ripple of awareness races down my spine.

She tugs the book, but I don’t let go. I’m not ready for her to disappear yet. I don’t even know her name.

Before I can ask, she blurts out, “You’re famous.”

“Well…” I clam up, suddenly embarrassed.

“I saw your face on the poster and couldn’t believe it,” she says.

“I’m not really f-famous.” To my utter horror, I stutter. I haven’t stuttered in years.

She turns and gestures at the line behind her. “What do you call this?”

Heat burns up the back of my neck, and I let go of the book. “Somepeople know who I am.”

She tucks the book in her bag. “I still owe you a notebook.”

“Thanks.” I flex my hand, then shake it out. “My hand is killing me.”

“Do you need a massage?”

Before I can protest, she takes my hand in hers. A jolt surges through my entire body.

The scent of her perfume drifts toward me, and I instantly react. I love the smell of books as much as the next guy, but something about her spicy scent really does it for me.

I have the sudden urge to kiss her again. And not on the cheek this time. The memory of that kiss has my body heat skyrocketing.

“You’re really tight.” She turns my hand over in hers, lightly skimming her fingers over my palm.

The press of her thumb against the heel of my hand relaxes me instantly. “How’d you do that?”

The soft ripple of her laugh slides over my skin. “I’m a professional.”

My eyes slide shut as the heaven of her touch puts me in a semi-trance. “You’re a masseuse?”

She laughs again. “No. I’m a pet groomer. I own the pet store on Main Street.”

“The Fur Seasons?” I’ve always been impressed by the clever name of the pet store.

“That’s the one.”

The smile on her full lips makes me think of kissing.Again.

I haven’t thought about kissing this much in years. Not since I was trying to hook up with my crush behind the bleachers in high school.

I shouldn’t be this aware of her. I shouldn’t notice the way her sweater drapes over her shoulder when she leans over, exposing a swatch of very kissable skin.

“The line isn’t getting any shorter.” Vanessa wedges herself between us. “Time to move along.”

“I hope that helped.” She places my hand gently on the table.

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