“This coming from a medical professional,” Renee teased.
“Hey, I’m a doctor’s assistant, not a saint.”
“I’m not a saint either. I just care about what I put into my body.”
“Well, I can’t give up Mr. Fong’s takeout. So I’m happily doomed.”
“Suit yourself, Em,” Renee said with a grin. “I better get going.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“No. I just want to do a quick run around the market and get home. Thanks anyway. I’m going to whip up a stir-fry. Interested?”
“I already ate, but thanks! Maybe later this week we can get together?”
“Sounds great. See ya!”
“Adios, amiga.”
Emily went back into her apartment and Renee continued up to hers. She let herself in and beelined for her bedroom. She shucked off all of her clothes, leaving the smart slacks and suit jacket she’d been wearing on the floor. She changed into a relaxing pair of jeans and a sweater to help countermand the cold. She loved her old apartment with its wood molding and high ceilings and exposed brick, but the radiators were ancient and couldn’t really keep up on days like today. Fortunately she liked it a little chilly. That meant a nice glass of wine, a warm snuggly blanket, and maybe a fire in the fireplace. When she had rented the apartment she’d been thrilled that the fireplace still worked. In a lot of old houses, they were closed up or otherwise non-functioning. Hers even had the original hand-painted tiling on the front of it.
She shrugged back into her jacket and, after a quick look around the kitchen to see what she needed and making a list on her cellphone, she headed back out.
She passed up the nearest supermarket because they didn’t sell organic foods, but there was a specialty store around the corner that specialized in the organic, locally grown foods she preferred.
She entered the market, grabbed a basket and headed straight for the produce section. She was selecting some peppers when she inadvertently bumped into someone.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I—” She looked up into a face that was so darkly austere and yet so incredibly handsome her words died in her throat.
“That’s all right,” he said softly.
“I-I should really look where I’m going,” she said, her voice catching. She couldn’t help herself. She was practically standing in the arms of what was easily the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
He was about six feet tall, which was good because at five six she didn’t have to crane her neck too far back to look up into his eyes. And what beautiful eyes they were. They were as gray as the stormy clouds outside, a tumult of differing shades. His lashes were ridiculously long for a man, long enough and dark enough to make her a little bit jealous.
He had well-defined cheekbones, but not so sharp that he looked girlish. With a blade of a nose and dark brows that were distinctly separate, he managed to avoid looking Cro-Magnon. But what really pushed him over the edge from simply good-looking to absolute male perfection was the line of his jaw and the tempting sculpture of his mouth. His lips were full and framed by a well-groomed mustache and goatee. Both were black and matched his brows and hair, which he kept close-cut around his ears and the nape of his neck.
Outside of his facial beauty there was more to be had. Her eyes dragged down over his neck and throat, measured the broad width of his shoulders. But they weren’t linebacker broad. More like quarterback broad. In fact, his entire figure spoke of lean athleticism, a powerful and muscled vision of raw strength. He was wearing a black T-shirt that clung to his body like a second skin and a pair of worn denim jeans. He wore work boots, and yet he didn’t strike her as particularly blue collar. There was something sophisticated in his air. Maybe it was the gold and diamond cross he wore around his neck, the artistry and age of the antique quite apparent. There were opals as well as diamonds, and yet it wasn’t a bulky thing. Just…elegant. It might have belonged to a woman if not for its more masculine size. He also wore a bracelet of simple yellow gold, the chain knotted at one inch intervals as it circumvented his wrist, and a gold and opal ring on the smallest finger of his right hand.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked him when she became aware she was checking him out. He was wearing a jacket, but it wasn’t very heavy. Not heavy enough to contend with this weather.
One corner of his mouth kicked up. “The cold doesn’t affect me,” he said.
“Well you’re lucky. It goes right through me.”
“Then you should be home where it’s safe and warm,” he said, his richly accented voice flowing over her as if it could keep her safe and warm.
“Are you Portuguese?” she heard herself asking. Then she backpedaled. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“Not at all. You’re right. I am from Portugal.” He let his eyes roam over her a second, then looked in her cart. “Organic?”
“Yes.”
“Vegetarian? Vegan?”
“No.” She laughed. “Definitely a meat eater.”
“That’s good. It’s good to have a clean but well-rounded diet.”
“That’s what I’m going for. No pesticides, no hormones. I think we should avoid them even if it means paying a little more or having slightly smaller produce.”
“A good philosophy. One more people should embrace.”
“I think more people are embracing it. There’s certainly more offerings than there used to be. That means there has to be a demand for it.”
“True. It is much easier nowadays to find people like you who choose a clean lifestyle. I imagine you don’t smoke or have any other bad habits.”
“Unless you call bingeing on ice cream a bad habit. My hips certainly don’t thank me for it.”
“Eating too much ice cream is a very minor sin in the grand scheme of things. And your hips are perfect just as they are.”
His gaze went to her hips and she smiled a little.
“That’s kind of you to say, but I know it’s not true.”
He frowned. “I’m not used to people calling me a liar.”
“Oh! Oh no! I didn’t mean—”
“I promise, when I pay you a compliment, I am being completely honest,” he interrupted in a low, sexy voice.
She felt a sudden warmth infusing her body. The simmering heat of a woman being made very aware of a highly attractive man who was in close proximity. That and his compliments pleased her. It wasn’t as though she had a bad body image—she kept fit for her job—but it was nice to have someone attractive appreciating her.
“Hey, I’m a doctor’s assistant, not a saint.”
“I’m not a saint either. I just care about what I put into my body.”
“Well, I can’t give up Mr. Fong’s takeout. So I’m happily doomed.”
“Suit yourself, Em,” Renee said with a grin. “I better get going.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“No. I just want to do a quick run around the market and get home. Thanks anyway. I’m going to whip up a stir-fry. Interested?”
“I already ate, but thanks! Maybe later this week we can get together?”
“Sounds great. See ya!”
“Adios, amiga.”
Emily went back into her apartment and Renee continued up to hers. She let herself in and beelined for her bedroom. She shucked off all of her clothes, leaving the smart slacks and suit jacket she’d been wearing on the floor. She changed into a relaxing pair of jeans and a sweater to help countermand the cold. She loved her old apartment with its wood molding and high ceilings and exposed brick, but the radiators were ancient and couldn’t really keep up on days like today. Fortunately she liked it a little chilly. That meant a nice glass of wine, a warm snuggly blanket, and maybe a fire in the fireplace. When she had rented the apartment she’d been thrilled that the fireplace still worked. In a lot of old houses, they were closed up or otherwise non-functioning. Hers even had the original hand-painted tiling on the front of it.
She shrugged back into her jacket and, after a quick look around the kitchen to see what she needed and making a list on her cellphone, she headed back out.
She passed up the nearest supermarket because they didn’t sell organic foods, but there was a specialty store around the corner that specialized in the organic, locally grown foods she preferred.
She entered the market, grabbed a basket and headed straight for the produce section. She was selecting some peppers when she inadvertently bumped into someone.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I—” She looked up into a face that was so darkly austere and yet so incredibly handsome her words died in her throat.
“That’s all right,” he said softly.
“I-I should really look where I’m going,” she said, her voice catching. She couldn’t help herself. She was practically standing in the arms of what was easily the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
He was about six feet tall, which was good because at five six she didn’t have to crane her neck too far back to look up into his eyes. And what beautiful eyes they were. They were as gray as the stormy clouds outside, a tumult of differing shades. His lashes were ridiculously long for a man, long enough and dark enough to make her a little bit jealous.
He had well-defined cheekbones, but not so sharp that he looked girlish. With a blade of a nose and dark brows that were distinctly separate, he managed to avoid looking Cro-Magnon. But what really pushed him over the edge from simply good-looking to absolute male perfection was the line of his jaw and the tempting sculpture of his mouth. His lips were full and framed by a well-groomed mustache and goatee. Both were black and matched his brows and hair, which he kept close-cut around his ears and the nape of his neck.
Outside of his facial beauty there was more to be had. Her eyes dragged down over his neck and throat, measured the broad width of his shoulders. But they weren’t linebacker broad. More like quarterback broad. In fact, his entire figure spoke of lean athleticism, a powerful and muscled vision of raw strength. He was wearing a black T-shirt that clung to his body like a second skin and a pair of worn denim jeans. He wore work boots, and yet he didn’t strike her as particularly blue collar. There was something sophisticated in his air. Maybe it was the gold and diamond cross he wore around his neck, the artistry and age of the antique quite apparent. There were opals as well as diamonds, and yet it wasn’t a bulky thing. Just…elegant. It might have belonged to a woman if not for its more masculine size. He also wore a bracelet of simple yellow gold, the chain knotted at one inch intervals as it circumvented his wrist, and a gold and opal ring on the smallest finger of his right hand.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked him when she became aware she was checking him out. He was wearing a jacket, but it wasn’t very heavy. Not heavy enough to contend with this weather.
One corner of his mouth kicked up. “The cold doesn’t affect me,” he said.
“Well you’re lucky. It goes right through me.”
“Then you should be home where it’s safe and warm,” he said, his richly accented voice flowing over her as if it could keep her safe and warm.
“Are you Portuguese?” she heard herself asking. Then she backpedaled. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”
“Not at all. You’re right. I am from Portugal.” He let his eyes roam over her a second, then looked in her cart. “Organic?”
“Yes.”
“Vegetarian? Vegan?”
“No.” She laughed. “Definitely a meat eater.”
“That’s good. It’s good to have a clean but well-rounded diet.”
“That’s what I’m going for. No pesticides, no hormones. I think we should avoid them even if it means paying a little more or having slightly smaller produce.”
“A good philosophy. One more people should embrace.”
“I think more people are embracing it. There’s certainly more offerings than there used to be. That means there has to be a demand for it.”
“True. It is much easier nowadays to find people like you who choose a clean lifestyle. I imagine you don’t smoke or have any other bad habits.”
“Unless you call bingeing on ice cream a bad habit. My hips certainly don’t thank me for it.”
“Eating too much ice cream is a very minor sin in the grand scheme of things. And your hips are perfect just as they are.”
His gaze went to her hips and she smiled a little.
“That’s kind of you to say, but I know it’s not true.”
He frowned. “I’m not used to people calling me a liar.”
“Oh! Oh no! I didn’t mean—”
“I promise, when I pay you a compliment, I am being completely honest,” he interrupted in a low, sexy voice.
She felt a sudden warmth infusing her body. The simmering heat of a woman being made very aware of a highly attractive man who was in close proximity. That and his compliments pleased her. It wasn’t as though she had a bad body image—she kept fit for her job—but it was nice to have someone attractive appreciating her.
