“It looks like you’re out.”

She waved her hand. “I was just getting the next batch on when you spoke up. Won’t take more than a few minutes.”

She was positive he’d turn her down. Everything about him screamed that he wasn’t the kind of man who sat around waiting for things to happen. So she was surprised when he shrugged and reached toward the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet.

“Sure. Why not.”

Again with the accent. “For here or to go?”

He glanced around the quiet bakery. The tables were all open except for the one occupied by Mr. Di Pasqua. He must have realized he’d have his pick of seats because he flipped open his wallet and dug around for some cash. “For here.”

“Sugar or cream?”

“Cream.”

She rang him up, got his change, and handed it over with a smile. “I’ll bring it over in a minute. Here’s your soda bread.”

"Thanks."

***

This woman was something else. He'd fantasized what kind of personality would be wrapped in that oh-so-sexy package, but those fantasies hadn't prepared him for the reality. She was fearless. Not only had she dug for information she had no right to know, she'd somehow convinced him to sit around and drink a cup of coffee. The only thing that cut through his amused haze was looking up at one of the hanging, antique mirrors and catching a glimpse of her watching his ass as he walked away. Instant hard-on.

Yeah, he definitely hadn't planned for that either.

He shifted uncomfortably at his seat, managing to give a polite smile to the older gentleman who sat a few tables away. The old guy grinned back, shaking his head a little before returning to his pastry. The thing looked freaking delicious. Like a croissant with some kind of filling that probably went perfectly with the black coffee the guy was guzzling down.

His stomach growled. It had been a busy night and he hadn't gotten to eat dinner like he'd hoped. Oh, he could have, but sometimes it was easier to follow his military conditioning and ignore the hunger pangs. A good reminder that he was still alive. Quite a statement to make on All Soul's Day.

He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to his father. Stopping for breakfast. On the road soon.

The reply came back a few moments later. Take your time. Drive safe.

The clink of a mug setting down on his table got him to put his phone down. The woman smiled at him, one hip cocked out a little and her arms crossed over her plenty ample chest. "Are you sure you don't want anything else?"

"No, thank you, ma'am," he said.

Too bad his stomach chose that moment to gurgle its protest. Her eyes narrowed. "Have you eaten yet today?"

Dammit. "No, ma'am."

"Stop ma'am-ing me. My name is Vivian and you're starving. Wait here."

She spun on her foot and disappeared into the back room before he could protest. Vivian. He liked the name. It fit her. Something Old World, but still unique.

Maybe he could chug his coffee down and get out before she returned. His first sip ruined that plan. "Oh, damn, that’s good," he mumbled appreciatively as the dark roast slid over his tongue, lightened a bit with a hint of sweet cream.

It would be sacrilege to speed through this cup of coffee. He couldn't do it. She'd won. Tricky, conniving, sweet-as-sin Vivian had won.

She beamed when she found him still sitting there, sipping the coffee with the reverence of a dying man who'd been granted another day's reprieve. "Like it?"

"Best cup of coffee I've ever had," he said honestly.

"How do you feel about cinnamon rolls?"

His jaw dropped at the sight of the plate she set down before him. Puffed dough glistening with creamy icing that melted over ridges of cinnamon swirls. He couldn't help it. He took a quick sniff and his mouth watered so much he had to swallow.

She nodded as if he'd passed some unspoken test and gently placed a fork down beside the plate. "Enjoy," she murmured and walked away.

Tags: M.A. Grant Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net