N3

I had seen this expression on my face before, in the bathroom mirror just before to go to sleep with a man. It was my look of "I'm ready to fuck" and it didn't matter. absolutely no reason to be on my face now.

Christ. Have a grip.

Five minutes with Mr. Dark and Dangerous, and I was filled with nervous, restless energy.

I could still feel his pull, the inexplicable need to return to where he was. I could argue that I hadn't completed what I came to Crossfire to do, but I knew I would blame myself later. How many times was I going to make a fool of myself in one day

?

“Enough,” I scolded myself under my breath. “Move on.” » Horns blared as one cabin rushed past another with only a few centimeters ahead, then braked suddenly as daring pedestrians entered the intersection seconds before the light changed. Screams What followed was a barrage of curse words and hand gestures that carried no real meaning.

anger behind them. Within seconds, all parties would forget the exchange, which was just a beat of the city's natural rhythm.

As I merged into the flow of foot traffic and headed toward the gymnasium, a smile teased my mouth. Ah, New York, I thought, feeling again installed. You manage.

I planned to warm up on a treadmill, then finish the hour with some machines, but when I saw that a kickboxing class for beginners was about to start, I followed the mass of waiting students. By the end, I felt more like myself.

My muscles shook with fatigue and I knew I would sleep hard when I crashed later.

“You did really well.”

I wiped the sweat from my face with a towel and looked at the young man who

spoke to me. Tall and muscular, he had bright brown eyes and flawless café-au-lait skin.

His eyelashes were incredibly thick and long, while his head was shaved. "THANKS." My mouth twisted sadly. “It was pretty obvious that it was my first

times, eh?"

He smiled and held out his hand. “Parker Smith.”

“Eva Tramell.”"You have a natural grace, Eva. With a little practice, you could be literally KO. In a city like New York, it is imperative to know the legitimacy defense. He pointed to a cork board on the wall. He was covered in business cards and leaflet pins. Tearing a flag from the bottom of a sheet of fluorescent paper, he handed it to me. “Have you ever heard of Krav Maga?

“In a Jennifer Lopez movie.”

“I teach it and I would like to teach it to you. This is my website and studio number.

I admired his approach. It was direct, like his gaze, and his smile was sincere. I

I wondered if he was heading towards a van, but he was calm enough at that point. subject so I can't be sure.

Parker crossed his arms, which showed cut biceps. He wore a black shirt without sleeves and long shorts. His Converse sneakers looked comfortably damaged and

Tribal tattoos appeared on his collar. “My website has the hours. You should come look, see if it's for you. “I will definitely think about it.”

“Do this.” He reached out again, and his grip was strong and confident. “I hope to see you.”

The apartment smelled good when I got home and Adele was humming along emotion through the surround speakers about chasing sidewalks. I have looked across the open floor plan to the kitchen and saw Cary swinging at the rhythm of music while stirring something on the stove. There was a bottle of wine open on the counter and two goblets, one of which was half filled with red wine.

“Hey,” I called out, getting closer. “What are you cooking?” And do I have time to take a shower first?

He poured wine into the other goblet and slid it towards me on the breakfast bar, his movements practiced and elegant. No one would know by looking at him that he had passed her childhood bouncing between her drug addict mother and foster families, followed by her adolescence in juvenile detention centers and drug treatment centers managed by the state. “Pasta with meat sauce. And wait for the shower, dinner is ready. Have fun

YOU?"

“Once we get to the gym, yeah.” I pulled out one of the teak bar stools and sat down.

sat. I told him about the kickboxing class and Parker Smith. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Krav Maga?” Cary shook his head. “It’s hardcore. I would get bruises and it would cost me of work. But I'm going with you to check, just in case this guy is crazy. I watched him toss the pasta into a waiting colander. “He’s a joker, isn’t he?”

My father taught me to read guys well, and that's how I understood that the god in costume was a problem. Ordinary people offered symbolic smiles when they were helping someone, just to make a momentary connection that made it easier to path.

Then again, I hadn't smiled at him either.

“Little girl,” Cary said, pulling the bowls out of the cupboard, “you are one sexy, beautiful woman.

I question any man who does not have the courage to ask you directly for a date

YOU.I wrinkled my nose.

He placed a bowl in front of me. It contained tiny tubes of salad noodles covered in a light tomato sauce with pieces of ground beef and peas.

“You have something in mind. What is this?"

Hmm… I grabbed the handle of the spoon that was sticking out of the bowl and decided not to comment on the food. “I think I met the sexiest man in the planet today. Perhaps the sexiest man in the history of the world. "Oh? I thought it was me. Tell me more." Cary stood on the other side of the counter, preferring to stand and eat.

I watched him take a few bites of his own concoction before feeling brave enough to try it myself. “Not much to say, really. I got myself found him slumped on his butt in the lobby of the Crossfire and he held out his hand.

"Tall or short? Blonde or dark? Built or skinny? Eye color?"

I washed down my second bite with wine. "Tall. Dark. Slender and built. Eyes blue. Very rich, judging by his clothes and accessories. And he was incredibly sexy. You know how it is: some hot guys don't make your hormones crazy, while

that some unattractive guys have enormous sex appeal. This guy had everything.