The Chosen by Sharon Sala Page B

in his mouth to choke on except his excuse for being late.
    Then, when he saw January turn her face away from the kiss the man meant to plant on her lips, he didn’t bother to stifle a grin. It appeared to Ben that January wasn’t a woman who liked waiting.
    He saw her waving her arm, and the man shrugging and talking. Obviously he didn’t talk fast enough, because January suddenly held up one hand in a motion that meant she’d heard enough; then she pivoted sharply and headed back toward Ben’s table.
    Ben stood. January flopped back down into the chair she’d just vacated and folded her arms across her chest.
    â€œOh, for goodness sake, sit down and finish your food,” she muttered.
    Ben glared. He’d been trying to do that for some time now, but she wasn’t making it easy.
    â€œThank you so much for permission to eat,” he muttered.
    January sighed, then reached across the table and laid her hand on his arm.
    â€œI’m sorry. I was just ticked. I hate people who are late. Even more, I hate myself for finally saying yes to a date with that creep only to have him pull this. I should have heeded my own warning signal and kept telling him no.”
    Before Ben could comment, the waiter returned with her cheesecake and drink.
    â€œWill there be anything else, Miss DeLena?” he asked.
    â€œNo, thank you,” she said, then picked up her fork and took a quick bite of the cheesecake, closing her eyes in ecstasy as she savored the flavor melting on her tongue.
    Ben glanced down at what was left of his steak and indicated that the waiter could remove his plate.
    â€œMay I bring a dessert menu?” the waiter asked.
    Ben eyed the look on January’s face.
    â€œI’ll have what she’s having…but with coffee.”
    The waiter nodded and left, while Ben kept watching January’s face. She couldn’t have been any more turned on if she’d been having an orgasm.
    â€œYou’re really into sweets, aren’t you?” he asked.
    â€œUmmm,” she moaned, then took another bite of the dessert. “So good,” she said, as the cheesecake slid past her tongue, then down her throat.
    Ben cleared his throat. “I’ll bet you are.”
    January’s eyes came open. “What did you say?”
    Shit. He’d been made.
    Somehow, he managed to keep a straight face. “I said…I’ll skip the bar, meaning, I’m driving, so I won’t be drinking.”
    She frowned. His gaze never wavered. His mouth didn’t twitch. Finally she decided she’d simply misunderstood.
    â€œYes, well, that’s a good idea,” she muttered, and then toasted him with her drink before taking a quick sip. “I came by cab, and the margarita is delicious, too. It’s too bad you can’t—”
    â€œOh, I can,” Ben mumbled. “I just know better.”
    Her frown deepened. “Are we talking about two different things here?”
    The waiter came back, saving Ben from having to answer. He quickly dug into his dessert, skillfully shifting her focus by asking her why she’d decided to become a reporter.
    â€œFor the same reason you became a cop.”
    â€œOh, so now you know why I chose police work?” Ben asked.
    â€œDo you like what you do?” she countered.
    â€œMost days,” Ben admitted.
    â€œYou’re good at it,” she said.
    Ben didn’t bother to hide his surprise.
    â€œAnd you know that because…?”
    â€œDid you get Brother John’s real identity?” January asked.
    Ben reeled from the change of subject, so fast that he answered before he thought.
    â€œYes.”
    She nodded. “That’s good. I’m glad I was able to help.”
    â€œI’m not talking about this,” Ben said.
    January smirked. “Well…actually, you already are, but don’t worry. I’m not going to quote you or anything horrible like