Page 10 of Mad Rivals
“Do you come here a lot?” I ask.
He lifts a shoulder. “Not a lot. Just when I head into the office.”
“Do you work from home?” I ask, suddenly wanting to know everything I can about this man.
He twists his lips, and I get the sudden, overwhelming vision of what those lips would feel like dragging along my skin. Across my stomach. Down to my hip. Along my thigh. Into my—
“Something like that,” he says. “What about you? I’ve never seen you in here.”
I raise a brow. “You say that like you were looking for me.”
He raises one back. “Maybe I was.” He leans in. “Trust me, with all these assholes in suits, it’s refreshing to find someone who looks like you in here.”
“Like me?” I ask, my hand flying to my chest as heat rushes into my cheeks.
I’m positive I’m as red as a tomato, but there’s not much I can do about that.
“Like you don’t know you’re gorgeous.” His eyes flick from mine down my frame, and my pulse races. “But you didn’t answer my question. Do you work nearby?”
Jeez. This guy. He just called me gorgeous, and I’m still buzzing from that, but he’s trying to have a conversation, and he flew over it like it wasn’t any big deal when I don’t know if a man this hot has ever even entered my orbit, let alone complimented me the way he just did.
I need a minute here.
And caffeine.
It’s why I’m here, after all. Not to bump into Hottie McHotface.
I know he asked a question, but I can’t remember the answer. Or the question. Or my own name.
“Mobile grande iced brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso,” the barista yells, and that seems to snap the trance I’m in.
We both move for the counter at the same time, and we both reach for the cup at the same time.
Our fingers touch as we each lay claim to the same drink, and then the barista clarifies things for us.
“For Bradley.”
Aha! I have a name. Bradley.
And the fact that he orders the same thing as me at Starbucks.
“Are you Kennedy?” the barista asks, and I stare at her blankly. Is that my name? I’m not really sure.
She gives me a strange look, and I think I nod as she says, “Yours is up next.”
“Guess I got my order in seconds before you, Kennedy,” Bradley says with a grin, and he holds up his espresso.
I know it’s a popular drink—maybe themostpopular drink at Starbucks, and it’s loaded with caffeine, which is why we’re here in the first place. But we ordered thesame drink. That has to mean something.
“Guess you did, Bradley.” I flash him a smile, and I’m not sure why my banter isn’t bantering this morning, but he really does something to my brain.
“Well, I better get to the office,” he finally says, and it could just be me projecting my wants onto him, but I swear I hear a bit of reluctance in his tone.
“Me too. Enjoy your grande iced brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso,” I say. Why do I say it with finality, like this is goodbye? I should leave a door open or exchange numbers or…something.
He holds up his coffee. “You too.” He smiles one last time at me, and since he didn’t ask for my number, I suppose I’m left to assume he’s taken.
Of course he’s taken. He’s friggin’ gorgeous. That smile he gave me was one of those panty-droppers. You know, the kind that would makeanywoman strip naked just for a shot.
