And yet, just as Cori had noted, his glittering focus seemed fixed on Maggie.
Whipcord muscle gave definition to his tight black T-shirt and black leather pants. A pair of silver aviator sunglasses was tucked into the neck of his shirt. The lean muscles of his bare arms were encased in extensive tattoos. The guy was in his late twenties to early thirties, if she had to guess. His strong jaw and lean cheeks sported a golden five o’clock shadow, emphasizing the most alluring mouth she’d ever seen. Sensual, supple lips that curled up at the very edges. Just enough to make his grin seem a bit taunting, a little mocking and a whole lot sexy. His tawny hair was a little too long, a little too mussed, adding to his dangerous appeal.
But it was his eyes that drew her attention. Probably because they appeared to be locked on her, following every move she made. That hard stare was pure amber. Striking. Hypnotic.
Seductive.
He was midnight fantasies, the promise of uninhibited sexual gratification and forbidden sin all rolled into one. Temptation incarnate from the top of his tawny head to the tips of his big bad boots. He could very well have been the reason the walk of shame was invented.
She forced a swallow, quickly glancing down and away. Heat flooded her checks. And that tiny vibration of awareness from earlier turned into a relentless hum in her blood.
“Is he still staring, Cori?” Maggie asked her friend, careful to keep her eyes downcast and her voice hushed.
“Yep,” Cori replied, sounding a little too excited for Maggie’s comfort.
“Is who staring?” Gail turned in her seat, craning her neck, as did Molly.
“Oh God! Don’t look!” Maggie hissed, grabbing Gail’s forearm, tugging at her. But Gail looked anyway. No, on second thought, she didn’t look. She ogled.
“He is hawt!” Molly fanned herself, her wide-eyed attention glued on the guy. “And Cori’s right. He’s staring right at you, Maggie.”
She couldn’t help herself. Maggie glanced up again. He seared her with those unwavering eyes. He hadn’t moved one of those luscious muscles. Now that she was finally looking at him, really looking, she’d expected him to break eye contact. That was, after all, a normal human reaction, even if only for a second. But he didn’t. He just kept right on staring. He didn’t even blink.
Something about him had her instincts firing, her nerve endings tingling. Grudgingly, hating every moment of this, hating the ability itself, she opened herself up, opened her senses as she focused on him, preparing herself for the worst as her friends chatted on around her, oblivious to her little gift.
A blankness met her probe. Emptiness. Like a hollow shell with just the glimmer of something she couldn’t quite pinpoint.
Cocking her head, frowning, she focused harder. And still she came up puzzlingly empty-handed. She could sense neither good, nor evil in him. But neither was he a normal human.
He was…different. More.
But she couldn’t tell what that more was.
One corner of his mouth tilted upward, as if he’d somehow sensed or felt what she was doing. She slammed her shields closed. Well, as closed as she ever could, which was to say not quite entirely. Not nearly as tight as she’d like. She dropped her focus to the glass in her hand, and she traced a bead of condensation.
Clearing her throat, she sat up straighter and adopted an uninterested expression. “Well, he is kind of…cute. But it doesn’t matter. Brett and I went out on a date last Friday night, and I agreed to see him again tomorrow.”
That’s right, she reminded herself. Think of Brett. Harmless, normal, very human Brett. As far removed from that other world as a man could be.
“You only agreed to go out with Brett because he nagged you into it,” Cecelia finally chimed in.
Cecelia was right. Brett, a lawyer, had worn her down, petitioning his case with dogged determination for three months. Even so, Maggie shot her a withering look. “Brett is perfectly fine.”
“More like perfectly boring,” Gail said, taking a drink as the other women in the group nodded and murmured agreement. “He is so not your type, Mags. You need someone with energy, someone with a…a zest for life. Someone who’s gonna shove you up against the wall and steal passionate kisses. Not someone so full of himself he can’t put anyone else first. Doesn’t Brett irritate you? My goodness! The few times I’ve spoken with him, I’ve felt like I was on trial!”
“He’s not like that,” Maggie insisted. Well, not all of the time.
Okay! Okay, he is like that, some of the time.