Hot to the Touch

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Troy was getting impatient with the topic. “And I appreciate your concern.”

Justin shrugged. “I’m just one of many who wants to see you happy.”

“Dude, I am happy.” He raised his hand to cut off Justin’s immediate protest. “Yes, someday I’ll meet someone and have my nerve endings incinerate me with their life-heat or whatever you said, and I’ll be more happy. But right now life is good. Our book is in, the publisher is ecstatic, we have some time before we have to start the next one. I’m finally over Debby, have done some dating. This is all good stuff. I’m not in any hurry to change it.”

“Okay.” Justin nodded solemnly and drained his glass. “I’ll back off. But I warn you, Candy’s been looking out for you, too. And when she gets an idea…”

Troy laughed. “Uh-huh.”

“Speaking of.” He held up his wrist, squinting to bring his watch face into focus. “She’ll be here any second. I should wait outside so she doesn’t have to park. You coming?”

“Nah.” Troy didn’t want to go home yet. Lately his house had been feeling empty, without the crush of working on the book on top of his regular day job. He’d been training for the next triathlon in September with Chad, going out with friends, playing basketball on Sundays, taking his golden chow mix, Dylan, for long walks, all of which helped, but they didn’t fill the house. “I’ll stay and finish my drink.”

“Okay.” Justin slapped him on the back and slid clumsily off the stool. “Just keep your eyes open.”

The man with the red face turned his power switch back on. “And check out her feet.”

Troy considered moving away, but after Justin disappeared, the guy receded again into staring at his glass of Coke, which Troy would guess was healthily dosed with rum. Booze and caffeine, upper and downer taken together. No wonder the guy looked as if he were in suspended animation.

The front door opened; Troy glanced over, half-expecting Justin or Candy, and did a double take, along with half the bar. The male half.

A woman. Older than he was, early thirties. Dark. Beautiful. Stop-traffic beautiful. Reduce-men-to-drooling-idiocy beautiful, even dressed in black shapeless pants and a black shapeless shirt, neither of which could hide that she was all shape underneath.

“Would ya look at that.” The little man beside him voiced what every straight guy in the place must be thinking.

She seemed completely at ease, undoubtedly used to being stared at, headed for the bar and sat at the corner, leaving two seats between her and Troy’s red-faced neighbor. In a rich, musical voice she ordered arak and Arabic food—was she Lebanese? Troy watched her surreptitiously—watched her pour her drink and sip it reverentially, watched her after her food came, lips and teeth taking bites, face registering pleasure—and found himself getting turned on. Maybe it had been too long, maybe Justin was right, and he should try to make a move on Little Miss Jonas Brothers. Not the woman he wanted, but this one was way out of his league, and probably experienced at turning away male attention.

As if to confirm his thoughts, a well-built, good-looking guy tried his luck with the mystery woman and was viciously shot down—weakling flea up against a fiery cannonball.

Still, Troy stayed, long after his drink was gone. She drew him, even in a spectator role. He wanted to be the fly on her wall and hang around, buzzing as long as she was here.

Red-Faced Guy decided he’d had enough and after a few weird comments, stumbled out, leaving only three empty seats between Troy and Womanhood Personified. Ludicrously, his heart started pounding. The bartender offered another arak, and though he’d been fine before, Troy felt exposed now, and answered yes. His peripheral vision caught the woman registering his presence. More than registering, she was watching him. His drink came, and in the act of pouring, he gave in to his impulse and turned to meet her eyes.

Boom.

He’d expected her to have an effect on him; hell, he’d practically gotten a hard-on watching her eat, but he hadn’t expected…this. It was as if he’d lit up, as if every nerve ending in his body had come to life in a way he’d never felt before, ever, not even close. They heated up, uh, like a life, um, heat…