faster.
“We’re going to lunch,” he announced, not sounding at all pleased by the prospect.
“Gee, thanks for asking,” she replied dryly. “Did you turn into a caveman overnight? Or do simple manners elude you?” She couldn’t help the sarcasm even if he’d finally asked her out. For some reason, when she’d imagined their first date, he’d looked a lot happier about it.
Ruddy color rose in his cheeks. “Sorry. I’m, uh, hungry. That’s it, hungry, and I was in the area and thought I’d ask if you’d like to join me.”
Something didn’t seem right. She peered out of the window, examining the sky, and didn’t answer.
Her lack of response made him fidget. “Um, Francine, what are you doing?”
“I don’t have a direct line to hell to see if it’s frozen over so I’m looking for flying pigs.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve ignored me like I had some contagious disease for the last five years and now all of a sudden, in the last twenty-four hours, you’re constantly in my face. Mind telling me what’s up?” She turned back to stare at him, trying not to grin at how uncomfortable he seemed.
“Can’t a man ask an old friend to lunch?” he grumbled, looking so adorably flustered that she wanted to jump up and kiss him silly. Then slap him for being such an ass.
“I guess,” she said, still wondering what prompted his impromptu visit. She and Alejandro hadn’t even put their plan in motion. Was it working already? Maybe someone did report the kiss. Talk about news travel ing quick .
“Good, then get your purse so we can go.”
Standing, she went to the filing cabinet to grab it from the drawer where she kept it stashed. “What’s the hurry? You on your lunch break too?”
“Not exactly. I’ve actually got the week off. The office is getting repainted.” Working as a sales rep, of all things, for a human corporation specializing in heating and cooling services, Mitchell made a decent living even if his choice of careers seemed odd. “Can you move a little faster? Please.”
Biting her lip, Francine fought not to laugh at this frantic Mitchell who’d gone out of his way to invite her to lunch. Perhaps the tides had turned and the mating fever had finally snagged him. Talk about wishful thinking.
Mitchell didn’t say another word as she followed him to the elevator and down to the lobby. Actually, he actively avoided meeting her gaze, which allowed her to drink in the sight of his body, a hot bod that she had only caught brief glimpses in the past few years.
His worn t-shirt hugged his wiry frame, the soft material stretching across his broad shoulders. Well-washed jeans clung to his thighs, the waist of them hanging low on lean hips. His hair stood in untamed tufts as if he’d run his fingers through it. As for his face, he still sported the same sharp-angled features, piercing eyes, and square chin. Ruggedly handsome as ever.
While she let herself drink in the sight of him, he kept his gaze pointed squarely at her feet clad in low heels that she kept stashed at the office. She’d also thankfully had a spare set of clothes because Alejandro had left the crotch in her first pair of pants ridiculously wet after his kiss. The pig. Speaking of whom, she wondered what he did while Mitchell escorted her to lunch.
It was as they exited through the glass doors at the front that she saw the object of her thoughts and caught Mitchell’s triumphant grin. Oh, how nice. She’d gotten caught in the middle of a male pissing contest. Good thing she learned to aim years ago from the numerous times she went camping, because she couldn’t wait to join in.
“Jag,” she cried out, waving.
“Jag?” Mitchell growled.
At Mitchell’s pointed glare, she smiled. “His name is so long to pronounce, especially in the heat of the moment, that I gave him a shorter one that went well, I thought, with his great, big, powerful beast. Don’t worry, Mitchy,” she
“We’re going to lunch,” he announced, not sounding at all pleased by the prospect.
“Gee, thanks for asking,” she replied dryly. “Did you turn into a caveman overnight? Or do simple manners elude you?” She couldn’t help the sarcasm even if he’d finally asked her out. For some reason, when she’d imagined their first date, he’d looked a lot happier about it.
Ruddy color rose in his cheeks. “Sorry. I’m, uh, hungry. That’s it, hungry, and I was in the area and thought I’d ask if you’d like to join me.”
Something didn’t seem right. She peered out of the window, examining the sky, and didn’t answer.
Her lack of response made him fidget. “Um, Francine, what are you doing?”
“I don’t have a direct line to hell to see if it’s frozen over so I’m looking for flying pigs.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve ignored me like I had some contagious disease for the last five years and now all of a sudden, in the last twenty-four hours, you’re constantly in my face. Mind telling me what’s up?” She turned back to stare at him, trying not to grin at how uncomfortable he seemed.
“Can’t a man ask an old friend to lunch?” he grumbled, looking so adorably flustered that she wanted to jump up and kiss him silly. Then slap him for being such an ass.
“I guess,” she said, still wondering what prompted his impromptu visit. She and Alejandro hadn’t even put their plan in motion. Was it working already? Maybe someone did report the kiss. Talk about news travel ing quick .
“Good, then get your purse so we can go.”
Standing, she went to the filing cabinet to grab it from the drawer where she kept it stashed. “What’s the hurry? You on your lunch break too?”
“Not exactly. I’ve actually got the week off. The office is getting repainted.” Working as a sales rep, of all things, for a human corporation specializing in heating and cooling services, Mitchell made a decent living even if his choice of careers seemed odd. “Can you move a little faster? Please.”
Biting her lip, Francine fought not to laugh at this frantic Mitchell who’d gone out of his way to invite her to lunch. Perhaps the tides had turned and the mating fever had finally snagged him. Talk about wishful thinking.
Mitchell didn’t say another word as she followed him to the elevator and down to the lobby. Actually, he actively avoided meeting her gaze, which allowed her to drink in the sight of his body, a hot bod that she had only caught brief glimpses in the past few years.
His worn t-shirt hugged his wiry frame, the soft material stretching across his broad shoulders. Well-washed jeans clung to his thighs, the waist of them hanging low on lean hips. His hair stood in untamed tufts as if he’d run his fingers through it. As for his face, he still sported the same sharp-angled features, piercing eyes, and square chin. Ruggedly handsome as ever.
While she let herself drink in the sight of him, he kept his gaze pointed squarely at her feet clad in low heels that she kept stashed at the office. She’d also thankfully had a spare set of clothes because Alejandro had left the crotch in her first pair of pants ridiculously wet after his kiss. The pig. Speaking of whom, she wondered what he did while Mitchell escorted her to lunch.
It was as they exited through the glass doors at the front that she saw the object of her thoughts and caught Mitchell’s triumphant grin. Oh, how nice. She’d gotten caught in the middle of a male pissing contest. Good thing she learned to aim years ago from the numerous times she went camping, because she couldn’t wait to join in.
“Jag,” she cried out, waving.
“Jag?” Mitchell growled.
At Mitchell’s pointed glare, she smiled. “His name is so long to pronounce, especially in the heat of the moment, that I gave him a shorter one that went well, I thought, with his great, big, powerful beast. Don’t worry, Mitchy,” she
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