Her eyes were soft. Her perfect mouth smiled at him. Her gorgeous hair spilled around her like a waterfall of dark silk. His hand moved before he could think. He had no idea what possessed him, but he couldn’t stop himself, and he was a man all about control and discipline. His fingers buried in all that silk and fisted there, tugging until her head was back. He leaned in and brushed a kiss across her mouth.

His stomach rolled. His cock hardened. With one touch. One. Fucking. Touch. Electricity crackled and his pulse thundered in his ears. Lightning flashed through his veins so his blood ran hot.

He stepped away and turned without another word, not looking at her face, not daring to. He might have just blown it big-time, but now he had her taste in his mouth and it was far sweeter and tastier than the beignet.

Catarina closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her trembling lips. He’d kissed her. Kissed her. She knew, to him, it was just a small gesture of thanks, or “you’re welcome,” depending. He probably hadn’t felt anything at all. It wasn’t like it was a real kiss, with mouths open and tongues involved. It was brief. Hardly there. But she didn’t care. It was a kiss. And from Ridley. She could perv on that for months.

She risked a glance and he was back installing cameras, so she rose and did the dishes, hugging the moment to herself. Their perfect moment. No one could ever take that away from her. Not even if everything went south and she was found and dragged back or killed, she would have that moment.

She was wrong to be friends with him. To risk him. But maybe, if she was careful, she could keep the risk to a minimum.

4

“WE’RE going to have to hire some help if the crowds get any bigger,” David announced.

Catarina glanced up from behind the coffee machine. The crowd vying for coffee was three deep. She could speed up, but the machine couldn’t. “I’m sorry, David, I can only work so fast,” she told him.

“No, this is good. I’m loving this,” David said. “Your boyfriend’s back.”

Catarina’s head came up and she looked around Poetry Slam. It was crowded, but she knew she would always, always, know when Ridley was in a room, and he hadn’t come in. They spent a lot of time together, mostly in her warehouse. His latest endeavor was tiling the shower and putting in plumbing.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she denied.

David took another order and then nudged her. “Seriously, Cat, his lovesick poems are getting hard to take. All that unrequited love pouring out for the world to see. You’ve got to put the man out of his misery and go out on a date with him.”