I shook my head. “Nope. You’re too fancy-pants posh. It’s not even like you’ve got this rocker vibe to you so you can pull it off. You sort of stick out here.”

He joined me in laughter. “Okay, so the sweater and pea coat are ruining the image. But, I assure you, I belong down here.” He inclined his head toward the youth center. “I was kicking it with a few friends today.”

“You were volunteering?” I’d assumed he spent his days sleeping till three, only to wake up and figure out where he was going that night. I’d never pictured him as the volunteering type. Not exactly a party boy. My mind conjured an image of him going through rural Africa digging wells. That image juxtaposed with one of him in a beautiful tuxedo, wooing donors for his latest cause. The image of dashing philanthropist worked better.

His grin faded a bit. “Don’t let the swank parties fool you. I volunteer. I even have a job.”

Shit. Had I insulted him? Immediately, images of him in a tux talking about the latest cause in the heart of Africa vanished and were replaced with images of some swank start-up, doing some cool music software or something. “Was that party swank?” I shrugged. “I couldn’t tell by the chocolate fountain and chandeliers.”

He tsked. “Uh-oh. Looks like someone’s made a few assumptions about me.” He added a teasing smile and wag of his finger to soften the words.

“Sorry. I guess I did. I can’t really see you posting up here at the local Jamaican restaurant for rice and peas.”

He sniffed. “I love Jamaican food. Rice and peas happen to be a favorite of mine.”

“I stand corrected.”

“So, you up for some company on your little jaunt?” He inclined his head.

He was so heartbreakingly handsome that I could only stare for a minute. Was he actually asking if he could tag along? With me?

My brain made a valiant effort at forming words. “Um, yeah. Ok.” That had to count for a full sentence, right?

His voice was smooth as he asked, “So, did you have fun last night?”

“Yeah, I did. I was paying for it a little this morning. But Faith gave me a hangover cure, and I started to feel a lot better. Next time, I won’t mix-and-match my liquor like that.”

He nodded sagely. “What did she use for the hangover cure? Whiskey?”

“No. Guinness and a massive English fry up.”

“Just as effective, I suppose.”

He halted my movement by placing a hand on my elbow and I jumped. Would I ever find a way to get used to casual touches? Especially from him?

His brows drew down as he studied me. “Listen, about last night.”

Heat flooded my face as I peered up at him sheepishly. “Um, yeah. Look it’s no big deal. We got a little carried away.”