The Other Man(2)

I just stared at him, a bit shocked.  I couldn’t remember a time in my life running into such an aggressive stranger.

His mouth shaped into the barest shadow of a smile as he gripped a light handful of hair at my nape, his big body shifting closer.

He didn’t say a word, but as his eyes moved over the masses of my hair, I felt and knew that he was clearly admiring it.

He didn’t have to say a word.  His eyes were the compliment.

“I insist,” he finally said, taking both bags out of my arms before I could protest.  His box of condoms (not in a bag) was held, shameless as you please, in the hand of the arm he shifted my bags to.

My slack jaw snapped shut, and I turned on my heel, heading to my car.  I’d thought I knew how to handle every kind of man, but this one left me baffled.

I would let him load my bags into my trunk and politely send him on his way.  As far as I was concerned, that was the easiest and best thing to do.

I opened my trunk for him, then watched him and his Mack truck arms, as he shifted both bags into my car.

He straightened and stepped close to me.

He let his eyes run over me, top to bottom, and I just stared up, struck dumb by his unapologetic boldness.

This man had a strange effect on me.  I really needed to get a handle on it.

Finally, the once-over stopped, lingering on my cleavage.  I was dressed up a bit in a sexy white dress that had been meant for another man, one who was not a bold stranger, but this one seemed to appreciate it more than I’d ever intended.  Certainly Dair never would have admired my breasts so openly.

My chest swelled in a shocked breath as he brought a big hand up to lightly finger my collar.  It was wide and cut from my neck down to the lowest point of the opening, right between my pushed together cleavage.

“You’re a very beautiful woman,” his gravelly voice mused idly, as though he was talking to himself more than me.

His eyes returned to mine as he addressed me directly, “But then, you know that, don’t you?”

I shook my head, at a loss.

“I’m Heath,” he told me, like this was all perfectly normal.  “And you?”

“Lourdes,” I told him breathlessly.

His touch was light but very deliberate as he let his knuckles brush directly over my nipple.  It swelled and hardened instantly, as though it was trying to return his touch, with or without my consent.

With a ghost of a smile, he pulled his hand away and stepped back.

“I’ll see you around,” he said, tipping an imaginary cap at me.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode away.

I watched him walk away, fascinated with the way he moved, fast and purposeful, with complete confidence.

And that was that.

Or it should have been.  If things were normal and life was still sane, it would have been.

But something had shifted, and it wasn’t a subtle shift.

I’d come to the attention of a man who didn’t play by any normal rules, and my life was about to get very interesting.

CHAPTER TWO

I was at the dog park the next morning.  It was a brisk fifteen-minute walk from my house.  I was letting my blue Great Dane, ’Tato, run in the park.  This was a daily ritual, even in the worst of the Vegas heat.  My great beast of a dog needed the exercise.

I threw ’Tato’s slobbery tennis ball as far as I could for the umpteenth time, and he took off after it with great bounding strides.

“Morning, Lourdes,” a gravelly voice said just behind me.

I jumped about a foot.

I knew that voice, but what the hell?

I turned, letting my face show how perturbed I was by his unexpected presence.

I wasn’t wearing a scrap of makeup, and my heavy hair was in a thick, messy braid that I was sure couldn’t have been my best look, not to mention that I was wearing baggy sweats.

Yes, my first thought was vanity.  Of course it was.  This guy was sex on a stick.

“What are you doing here?” I asked him, my tone bordering on hostile.

He smiled; the first full smile I’d ever seen on him.

He liked me hostile.  It was twisted.

He indicated the sweats and running shoes he was wearing.  “I was jogging.  Imagine my surprise when I spotted you.  Nice dog.”

I supposed it kind of added up.  The store where I’d met him was pretty close by.

He must live nearby, I decided.

But to be sure . . . “Do you live around here?”

“Not too far,” he said, and didn’t elaborate.

’Tato returned with his slobbery tennis ball, and I threw it again.

“What’s your dog’s name?”

“’Tato.”  I caught his look.  “Short for couch potato.  My kids named him.”

“How many kids do you have?”

“Two.  Well, they aren’t kids anymore.  Now they’re grown men, but my youngest was twelve when we got ’Tato, and he named him.”

“Both boys?”

“Yes.”

“How old are they now?”

“Twenty-one and eighteen.”

Even his stoic face couldn’t hide his surprise.  “Did you have them when you were twelve?”