sounded like a mentally challenged woman—that was out. My Southern sounded equally horrific, so I decided on British. It was bad, but not quite as bad as my German. My Italian was pretty good, but in order to do it well, I had to do it loud and use tons of gestures. I figured that would draw too much attention. All my accents sounded a little off due to my turtleneck-covered mouth, but that couldn’t be helped.
After bashing into eight people, I realized keeping my eyes glued to the floor was a bad idea. I covertly glanced around, looking for security . . . not a one. Thank you, Jesus. Just regular people, working and minding their own business. The preppy business guys, the twentysomething gals with short skirts, pantyhose, and stilettos flanked by the fortysomething gals in pants, sensible flats, and big bunions from their own high-heel-wearing twenties. Just normal, everyday, boring, run of the mill . . . Holy Mother of God! He is not normal.
I stopped dead in my tracks. Ten feet away stood the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life. More beautiful than my new neighbor, Mr. Fine-ass. I felt light-headed and realized I’d ceased to breathe. Sandy blond hair, full lips, eyelashes that belonged on a girl, and a build like a brick shithouse. He didn’t fit in here. His jeans and dark gray T-shirt covered by a rockin’ black leather bomber were hotter than hot. He was holding a folder and kept glancing at it. No ring on his left hand. Aces! He looked about thirty-five or so. Absolutely perfect. With my luck he was probably gay.
What the hell was wrong with me? I wasn’t here to pick up guys. I was here trying not to get arrested. My brain knew that, but all my girlie parts were screaming something else entirely. There was no security guard in sight . . . maybe, just maybe . . . No, absolutely not. I couldn’t take the chance of going back to jail. It wasn’t a parking violation; it was a restraining order, for shit’s sake. But if I didn’t show myself, there was no way my future husband would notice me. I was covered up like a fashion-impaired nun. Maybe I could remove the disguise just for a minute . . . make eye contact, ask him to marry me, and then finish what I came for. No, wait, maybe I’d deliver the package first and then tackle him to the ground and have my way with him . . . No, wait, what if he left while I was delivering the goods? And what if I got arrested before he noticed I was alive? Jesus Christ, I needed to get laid. This was the second stranger I’d considered marrying in two days and I’d only seen the other one’s butt.
Damn it, damn it, damn it. The tingling in my nether regions was fogging my brain and self-preservation skills. What if he was my soul mate and I walked away and ended up a shriveled old sex-starved maid? What if I was denying myself the best, most mind-blowing orgasms imaginable? What if I revealed myself and he didn’t like me and some undercover security dork arrested my ass? Or what if he fell instantly in love with me and the same said security dork from the previous scenario came up and arrested my ass?
What was happening to me? Had I jumped into the deep end of my own cheesy romance novel? I felt squooshy and short of breath. My lady bits were on fire, and I might possibly be in heat. I didn’t even know this hunka hunka burning love . . . I hadn’t made eye contact, yet I was picking out china patterns in my head. WTF? Was love at first sight real? I hadn’t been this whipped up about a man in . . . well, ever. That wasn’t exactly true, I had been fixated on my neighbor’s ass since I’d seen it with Shoshanna, but he could be ugly or married. This one was hot, and wasn’t wearing a ring . . . I was going to go for it. I would not go through my life wondering what if . . .
In a move of gargantuan stupidity, I peeled my turtleneck off my mouth, yanked the hat off my head, and let my long, naturally (eat that, Jenny) blond hair spill over my
After bashing into eight people, I realized keeping my eyes glued to the floor was a bad idea. I covertly glanced around, looking for security . . . not a one. Thank you, Jesus. Just regular people, working and minding their own business. The preppy business guys, the twentysomething gals with short skirts, pantyhose, and stilettos flanked by the fortysomething gals in pants, sensible flats, and big bunions from their own high-heel-wearing twenties. Just normal, everyday, boring, run of the mill . . . Holy Mother of God! He is not normal.
I stopped dead in my tracks. Ten feet away stood the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life. More beautiful than my new neighbor, Mr. Fine-ass. I felt light-headed and realized I’d ceased to breathe. Sandy blond hair, full lips, eyelashes that belonged on a girl, and a build like a brick shithouse. He didn’t fit in here. His jeans and dark gray T-shirt covered by a rockin’ black leather bomber were hotter than hot. He was holding a folder and kept glancing at it. No ring on his left hand. Aces! He looked about thirty-five or so. Absolutely perfect. With my luck he was probably gay.
What the hell was wrong with me? I wasn’t here to pick up guys. I was here trying not to get arrested. My brain knew that, but all my girlie parts were screaming something else entirely. There was no security guard in sight . . . maybe, just maybe . . . No, absolutely not. I couldn’t take the chance of going back to jail. It wasn’t a parking violation; it was a restraining order, for shit’s sake. But if I didn’t show myself, there was no way my future husband would notice me. I was covered up like a fashion-impaired nun. Maybe I could remove the disguise just for a minute . . . make eye contact, ask him to marry me, and then finish what I came for. No, wait, maybe I’d deliver the package first and then tackle him to the ground and have my way with him . . . No, wait, what if he left while I was delivering the goods? And what if I got arrested before he noticed I was alive? Jesus Christ, I needed to get laid. This was the second stranger I’d considered marrying in two days and I’d only seen the other one’s butt.
Damn it, damn it, damn it. The tingling in my nether regions was fogging my brain and self-preservation skills. What if he was my soul mate and I walked away and ended up a shriveled old sex-starved maid? What if I was denying myself the best, most mind-blowing orgasms imaginable? What if I revealed myself and he didn’t like me and some undercover security dork arrested my ass? Or what if he fell instantly in love with me and the same said security dork from the previous scenario came up and arrested my ass?
What was happening to me? Had I jumped into the deep end of my own cheesy romance novel? I felt squooshy and short of breath. My lady bits were on fire, and I might possibly be in heat. I didn’t even know this hunka hunka burning love . . . I hadn’t made eye contact, yet I was picking out china patterns in my head. WTF? Was love at first sight real? I hadn’t been this whipped up about a man in . . . well, ever. That wasn’t exactly true, I had been fixated on my neighbor’s ass since I’d seen it with Shoshanna, but he could be ugly or married. This one was hot, and wasn’t wearing a ring . . . I was going to go for it. I would not go through my life wondering what if . . .
In a move of gargantuan stupidity, I peeled my turtleneck off my mouth, yanked the hat off my head, and let my long, naturally (eat that, Jenny) blond hair spill over my
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