Page 31 of To Catch a Latte Thick as Thieves

Grateful to escape the scrutiny of the crowd, she made for the door. A cool breeze stirred the orange trees surrounding the balcony. Annie strolled to the far end and gazed out at the gardens.

The only sound to be heard was the muted thump of a bass drum beating in time with the rustle of leaves in the breeze. Glancing up, she saw the few stars bright enough to shine over the blaze of city lights.

An image of warm brown eyes and a captivating grin filled her mind. What was it about Fisher McCoy that took her breath away? It was as if they had some connection. It wasn’t just sexual tension, although there was a healthy dose of that. No, he managed to touch her in a much more intimate place. Her soul perhaps? Oh brother, she was beginning to sound like a sap. She bit her lip. Was she in over her head already?

Fisher saw her ridiculous skirt first. It wafted in the breeze like a hot air balloon on the rise. She was right. That dress was an ape suit, he thought with a grin. But she was still stunning. Then he noticed the joker standing beside her. Her ex, Dudley Do-Right.

The night air carried the sound of their voices in his direction.

“But Anne, you and I belong together. You know we do.”

“No, Stewart, I don’t. That’s why I broke up with you,” she said, sounding exasperated. Then she softened her tone, “I’m sorry, Stewart.”

“Well, you can’t be serious abouthim,” Stewart protested. “I saw you two dancing. It was a most undignified display, not to mention that bit at the church. What possessed you?”

“It was fun,” she said. “And that bit at the church was necessary.”

“You need someone with a calming influence on you, Anne,” Stewart lectured. “Not someone who indulges your silly, little whims.”

“Silly, little whims?” she repeated, obviously clinging to her temper by a fine, red hair. “I don’t suppose you consider The Coffee Break one of my silly, little whims?”

“No,” he said, looking nervous. “But you have to admit, you don’t have a strong head for business.”

“No, but I have a mighty strong fist,” she retorted, looking ready to punch Dudley Do-Right in the nose.

“Here you are, Annie.” Fisher stepped forward and handed Annie her glass, of which she immediately took a healthy swig. What had possessed him to save Stew’s neck he didn’t know. He should have let Annie clean his clock, but he knew she would never forgive herself. And he couldn’t stand to watch that.

“Do you mind? Anne and I were having a very important discussion.” Stew glared at him.

“I don’t mind at all,” Fisher said. “I only came out to give Annie her champagne.” He turned as if to leave, but then turned back to Annie. “Oh, and this.”

With his free hand, he cupped her face and stepped toward her. He heard the breath puff out from between her lips as she was caught by surprise. He would have smiled, but the minute his mouth touched hers, he was no longer amused.

Her lips were cold and tart from the champagne and he wondered if he could get drunk from them. Lord knew, the sweet scent of her made his head spin.

It was supposed to be a kiss designed to humiliate Stew, to let him know that Annie was no longer available, but it turned into a quest to know Annie. To know the taste of her, the feel of her mouth against his and the warmth of her body as it melted into his.

The spark that had surprised him last night was still there, but today it was even more intense, shocking him with the force of his own desire. He buried his hand in her hair, mussing her elaborate do. He angled her mouth to give himself better access. It wasn’t enough. He wanted more. It stunned him, this primal need to drown in the taste of her.

The sound of running water caught his attention and he reluctantly released her. He glanced down. Her glass was dangling limply from her fingers. She seemed completely unaware that she’d spilled her champagne all over his shoes.

She slumped against the balcony rail as if her legs had given out. She pushed the curls from her face while she fought for breath. She looked rumpled, disheveled and thoroughly nonplussed. Fisher decided she was the sexiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

He retrieved the glass from her hand and glanced about. There was no sign of good old Stew. He grinned. “I guess we lost our audience.”

“Audience?” she asked between pants.

“Stew.”

“Who?” she asked.

“Your ex,” he reminded her. “Remember? The reason you invited me?”

“Oh, Stewart.” She nodded. “I forgot...I mean...uh...should we go back in?”

“Sure,” he agreed. Because she was irresistible in her confusion, he tipped her chin up and placed his lips on hers. Just a brief kiss to let her know that he wasn’t just kissing her because of Stew.

He pulled her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her toward the door. “It certainly is a fine evening for a wedding,” he said.

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