Page 58 of The Best Men
His eyes flicker with that big charm the man breaks out anywhere and everywhere, using it on the designer, the gate agent, the florist.
And on me.
I kind of wish I were immune, but his charm is coming at me full throttle now. I simply nod my thanks as I try to fight off a smile, so he doesn’t know what his compliment just did to my stomach?made it flip.
“What are you smiling about, Captain Filthy Mind?” he asks, as we near the front door of the palace.
“Lunch. You know, Cubanos and all,” I say, offhand. “Just thinking about Cubanos.”
“Yes, same for me,” he says, then he stops me in the doorway and kisses the corner of my mouth. “Sandwiches,” he repeats, and it sounds like he’s keeping my secret. That he knows I wasn’t thinking about ham and cheese.
I have a secret about him too.
Asher really likes kissing me.
When we reach the car, he smacks my ass. But before he gets in the driver’s seat, he says, “Wait.” Then he grabs the waistband of my shorts, tugs it back, and peeks. “Mmm. Purple.”
A tingle rushes down my spine. “Guess you likesomeof my clothes.”
“Seems I do.”
But we aren't talking about clothes anymore.
20
I’M A FAN OF EGGPLANTS
ASHER
I’ve always understood that a match can hinge on one single play. One well-placed feint or one perfect kick can change everything.
So I shouldn’t be too surprised by how much has changed between Mark and me in the past twenty-four hours.
Still, it’s hard to reconcile yesterday’s tensions with the mood in the convertible as I cross the causeway toward the city. Mark whistles to himself as he takes in the scenery. He looks like a new man.
I take a subtle glance at him, and I swear he looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. I’ll take the responsibility for that, thank you very much.
“Stop,” he says without turning his head.
“Stop what?”
“Stop sneaking glances at me. Keep your eyes on the road, St. James. You can admire me later.”
Maybe subtlety is overrated. Instead, I plant a hand on his muscular knee and stroke it. The crisp hair feels good under my hand. “It’s going to be a long day,” I murmur, keeping my eyes on the road as instructed.
“It will be if you keep doing that.”
I let my fingers inch up his thigh.
“Asher,” he groans.
With a quick, cocky smile, I release him. My phone is trilling, and it’s Lucy’s ringtone. “Mind if I answer that?”
“Let me help,” Mark says, and then he hits a button on the console to bring the call in through Bluetooth.
“Thanks. Hi Lucy. You’re on speaker.”
“Asher, I’m calling to tell you that you have an appointment with the caterer in twelve minutes.”
