Love Lost

He gave a chuckle and the sight of him leaning over my table with one hand in his pocket and the other hand he used the tips of his long fingers to lean on was delicious. He was so damn sexy; I felt heated blood coursing through my veins.

“Where are you looking?”

Calm down, Rayna. Be cool.

“Anywhere I can afford. Of course, I need to limit my options to this vicinity. I don’t want to have to travel more than an hour in L.A. traffic.”

That a girl!

“There are beautiful homes in Naples, Signal Hill, and Seal Beach. Or do you live near here already?”

“Is that where you live?” I quizzed.

“I travel more than an hour to get to work each day.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” His slightly furrowed eyebrows appeared simultaneously with a gentle smirk, a panty-snatching smirk.

“I asked if you lived in Naples, Signal Hill, or Seal Beach but you didn’t answer.”

“I didn’t answer because I asked where you live and you didn’t answer. Why should I tell you where I live if you don’t want to tell me where you live? This is a dangerous city. How do I know you won’t come and violate me?”

He shot off a line that I used often!

Azmir flashed a smile, a coochie-creaming smile, the most disarming that I’d ever encountered. His teeth weren’t chalk white but they were damn near that and perfectly aligned. I blushed inwardly. He was right. I always avoided telling men where I lived.

“Ummmm…you’re right. I live in Glendale. And you?” I asked acerbically in defeat.

“That’s funny. I use to live next door in Pasadena. We were practically neighbors. How long have you been there?”

I noticed right away that Azmir’s words were measured and his voice was controlled. He was deliberate in speech and delivery. His calculated tête-à-tête, though intimidating, kept me on my toes.

“For a couple of years now. How about you?” I asked, not missing how he still hadn’t shared where he resided.

“I bought the place about ten years or so ago. I was thinking about moving to Glendale but now that you’re leaving I’ve changed my mind.” He was flirting. That was a blatant flirt that caught me clear off guard. He didn’t even blink while speaking, his eyes settled on me with a searing gaze that a predator used to lure its prey. I glanced around to see who was looking or listening, but no one had been.

“Do you flirt with all of your associates like this? Or—don’t tell me—I’m a special exception, right?” My eyes squinted at him to caution his charm. I didn’t want him to know how magnetic it was, I couldn’t.

“Only the ones that I want to take out and get to know. Tell me, Ms. Brimm, are you dating someone?”

My breath hitched, I was so green and enraptured by his authoritative and enchanting mien, I didn’t know what to do. I’d been approached by a fair number of men in my life, but this man was different. He had this quality that was unlike anything I’d ever been up against.

Virile dominance radiated from his head that would occasionally cock to the side bringing my attention to the way his tongue pressed back into his molars telling of exercised patience. His broad shoulders caped in designer vesture, his long and coordinated fingers that flickered indiscriminately as if they communicated fleeting self-control or unspoken desire. The width of the space between his thighs as his extended legs supported his long commanding frame revealed his confident stance. And his buffed oxfords that told of a man on a cosmopolitan journey. I was instantly smitten by him.

“What are you asking? Let’s be clear here.” I gave a fixed “matter of fact” tone that did not include a smile on my face.

He smirked as if he was impressed...or well entertained.

“What are you doing Saturday night?”

“I have class on Saturday.” Something that didn’t typically occur and I suddenly regretted the inconvenience.

“How about Friday?” he tried again.

“I’m taking my girlfriend out for her birthday.”

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