Page 32 of Eat Slay Love

I lowered the glass and exhaled. "That isdangerous."

His lips curled. "Good dangerous?"

"I’m not sure." I laughed softly. "It’s. . .luxury in a glass. It tastes like a stack of money and reckless decisions."

He chuckled, swirling his drink again. "And which one of those do you plan to have tonight?"

I smirked. "A little of both, maybe."

Lust blazed in his gaze before he leaned back in his chair, studying me over the rim of his glass. "You’re not from New York."

I smirked. "Neither are you."

"I’m from Paris."

"I figured."

"And where areyoufrom?"

"I’m a Southern California girl."

"Aww. Very interesting."

I snorted. "Is it?"

"Very much." His gaze swept lazily over me. "That’s where the glow is coming from on your breathtaking skin. It must be all the sun."

Heat licked at my cheeks, but I rolled my eyes playfully. "Are you always this smooth?"

He winked. “It’s a French thing.”

“Aww.”

“Sorry, that your American men lack it.”

“Wow. At least the French are humble.”

“I don’t think that word is even in our dictionary.”

I chuckled.

He took another sip and then casually asked, "Are you a surfer?"

I actually laughed out loud. "Is that what you think ofallCalifornia girls?"

"Of course." He playfully shrugged. "Fun in the sun, roller skates, beaches, and perfect tans."

I snickered. "Wow. So. . .you’ve never been to California?"

"Never. But now, I have aninterestingreason to visit."

My heart warmed. "Yeah. . .you do."

For a moment, we just looked at each other.

I took another slow sip of my drink, my mind wandering—not just to the way he looked, or the way he watched me, but to the mystery of him.

Why was a man like this here, alone?

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