Katie . . . Jesus, she’s fascinating! Even though I’ve only spent what amounts to probably a couple of hours with her, I’m dying to know everything there is to know about her, about why she hides such a wild and sexy woman behind that shy smile and those haunted eyes.
On the outside, she’s like many of the other women I’ve dated—beautiful face, great body—only she doesn’t have to try like they do. Not at all. She just is beautiful. But on the inside, I can already tell that she’s more. She’s obviously not superficial or stupid or easy, all of which are so common in this business. I’m getting all the opposite vibes from her. Just interacting with her the little that I have makes me think that I’ve never met anyone like her. I kinda like that she’s a little shy and a little hot. It’s a great mixture. It implies depth, and depth has been in short supply in my life. But now that I see it, that I sense it, I want it. I want it all. It’s like seeing the ocean after only playing in puddles, or tasting rich cream after only ever having candy.
“What’s your favorite kind of candy?” I ask out of the blue just as Katie starts to swirl a brush over my cheekbone. Her hand stills and her deep blue eyes fly to mine.
“Pardon?”
“Candy. What’s your favorite kind?”
“Why?”
“I was just thinking about it and wondered.”
“You were just thinking about candy?” she questions dubiously.
“Yep,” I reply with a grin. She shakes her head and resumes her swirling. When she doesn’t answer, I prompt, “Well?”
“Snickers,” she admits after a long pause. “My favorite candy is Snickers.”
“Snickers satisfies,” I mutter, loving how blood pours into her cheeks, turning the porcelain of her skin to a pale pink. “But it’s not candy.”
She slides her gaze to mine again, her finely arched brows tucking together. “Of course it is.”
“No, it’s chocolate.”
“Chocolate is candy.”
“Chocolate is not candy.”
“Then why is chocolate in the candy aisle at the store?”
“Because the world is deluded. I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you that, but it’s true.”
She drops her hand and tips her head to the side, giving me a withering look that makes her even more adorable. I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so much in my whole damn life. “You are right and the rest of the whole world is wrong?”
“Precisely. You’re one smart cookie, Beautiful Katie,” I declare, adding, “Also not a candy, by the way.”
Her lips twitch, but she refuses to smile. I have no idea why. Five minutes ago, she was playful, and now she’s . . . guarded. Maybe that’s what makes her so intriguing to me—the inconsistencies, the contrasts. They fill me with the desire to see how deep the ocean really goes, to taste how rich the cream actually is. I want to know what makes this woman tick and then I want to touch every cog, stroke every wheel. I want to be inside her head when I’m inside her body.
Christ Almighty! I really am starting to sound like a woman!
“Were you disappointed a lot as a child?” she asks.
“More than you know,” I reply too honestly, immediately regretting it when her eyes get all puzzled. I recover quickly, though. Something else I’ve learned over the course of a life spent blocking fists. “But never about candy. I was an authority then and I’m an authority now.”
“Is that right?” Her expression is comically doubtful. “Well do tell, Mr. Authority. What, in your infinite wisdom, qualifies as candy?”
“Anything that has an ingredient list consisting mainly of sugar and has an assortment of additives that I can’t pronounce that are numbered or include the word ‘lake.’”
“So anything that contains words you can’t pronounce is considered candy?”
“Precisely,” I repeat.
Her eyes go all wide and innocent, belying the sarcasm to come. “Wow! The dictionary must be the mother lode of candy.”