The Chosen by Sharon Sala Page A

good.” Before he could comment, she’d swiped a French fry, dragged it through a pile of ketchup and took a big bite. “Umm, good. I’m starved.”
    Ben frowned. He didn’t share his food. Ever. But there was something about watching that French fry sliding into her mouth, and those perfect white teeth biting into it, that tied a knot in his belly.
    â€œHow do you eat your steak?” she asked.
    â€œWith my teeth.”
    She blinked once, slightly surprised at his wit, and then laughed out loud.
    The truth was, Ben hadn’t been making a joke, he’d been trying to shut her down. But now that she thought he was witty, he decided to play it for all it was worth next time an opportunity arose.
    â€œNo, seriously,” January asked. “How do you like it?”
    â€œMedium rare.”
    Her eyes widened as the smile on her face spread.
    â€œMe, too. How neat is that?”
    He sighed, resisted the urge to pull his plate out of reach of her hands, and offered her a bite of steak.
    â€œOh, no, I couldn’t,” she said, then waved down a passing waiter. “I’ll have a margarita and a slice of cheesecake.”
    The waiter hurried away to turn in the order, leaving Ben to figure out what was going on in her head.
    â€œI thought you said you were starving,” he said.
    â€œUmm, I am,” she said, and pointed to his fries. “Do you mind?”
    She took another without waiting for an answer, ran it through the ketchup and this time shoved the whole fry in her mouth.
    Ben groaned.
    She frowned. “Are you all right? I mean…I didn’t hurt you or anything, did I?”
    â€œNo. I’m fine…and by the way, thank you again for saving my life.”
    â€œI don’t know as I did all that, but it is scary not being able to breathe, isn’t it?”
    He started to argue, then figured honesty would get him further than his pride.
    â€œYes, it was scary. Are you sure you don’t want to order something else besides a drink and dessert?”
    She smiled. “Nope. If I’m going to be stood up, then I’m not going home hungry, and since I’m choosing, I’m choosing my favorites.”
    He grinned. “Good thinking,” he said, and pretended he didn’t see her picking French fries off his plate as he went on eating his steak.
    â€œSo, North…are you a native of D.C.?” January asked.
    â€œNo. Montana.”
    January was surprised enough to quit filching French fries. She eyed his broad shoulders, remembered his long legs and slim hips, and tried to picture him in boots and Levi’s instead of slacks and a suit coat. She also remembered what his mouth felt like on her lips, and that he’d had tears in his eyes for the little dead girl someone had turned into a hooker.
    Ben felt slightly uncomfortable under her studied gaze but was afraid to ask what she was thinking.
    â€œWhere in Montana?” she finally asked.
    â€œOutside of a little town called Hastings. My parents have a ranch. They raise cattle.”
    â€œBrothers and sisters?”
    â€œThree sisters.”
    Her eyebrows arched. “Oooh, only son. Didn’t follow in Daddy’s footsteps. How did that go down?”
    Ben frowned but didn’t answer. He’d noticed an unattached man giving the room the once-over. As much as he hated to do it, he was guessing her date had arrived. He pointed.
    â€œBy any chance is that your date?”
    January looked over her shoulder, rolled her eyes, then turned to Ben.
    â€œYes. Excuse me a minute. I’ll be right back.”
    â€œBut, aren’t you going to—?”
    He didn’t have time to finish his question; she was already gone. He watched her weaving her way through the maze of tables, saw the expression on the man’s face go from late to lust and knew just how the sorry sucker felt. At least the guy was one up on Ben. He didn’t have anything