Who was he so pissed off at—God, the universe, or some other poor soul?

Joy didn’t get the chance to contemplate an answer because the man was now heading toward the diner’s entrance. The door swung open and the bell above jingled his arrival as if announcing “one tall drink of water coming right up.”

She almost snorted at her thought. She also couldn’t take her eyes off him.

She imagined her fiancé scowling across the table. Mark wouldn’t be pleased.

Licking her dry lips, her gaze glued on the stranger, she reached for her soda and brought the straw to her mouth. She sucked hard, forgetting the glass was nearly empty. A loud slurping noise startled her, and she almost dropped her glass. The rude sound drew the attention of the family in the booth next to hers. It also caught his attention. He looked at her. Cheeks burning, Joy looked down at the table, hoping he didn’t notice she’d been staring at him.

Correction: drooling over him, which was so unlike her. She hadn’t felt such an instant attraction toward anyone since, well . . . never. Her body buzzed with interest, and the energy bouncing through her left her off-kilter. A bit disconcerting compared to the steady and cozy reaction she had when Mark walked into a room.

Joy picked up her phone, pretending to read a text. She could hear the two kids in the next booth over laughing as they mimicked her, making loud slurping noises with their sodas as their parents scolded them, threatening no pool time if they didn’t knock it off at once. She could also hear the waitress ask the man, “Table or counter?”

“Do you have a phone I can use?” he asked instead.

His voice. Joy sighed. It rolled over her, worked its way inside her, and settled in her stomach. He sounded as good as he looked. She peeked at him from under her lashes.

“Sorry. Phone is for paying customers only. You don’t have a mobile?”

“Would I have asked to use your phone if I did?” He smiled casually.

“No.” The waitress giggled. She had to be forty years older than him and she giggled. Obviously, Joy wasn’t the only one affected by his good looks. This probably happened to him everywhere he went, which made her feel a tad less guilty about her own attraction. Joy would bet that he knew it, too, and worked it to his advantage.

“Are you sure I can’t pour you a cup of coffee?” the waitress offered him with a sweet smile that made Joy feel a little queasy. For real? She was old enough to be his grandmother.

The man shook his head and looked around the small diner. His gaze landed on Joy and she blinked.

“No thanks,” he told the hostess and made his way over to Joy.

Omigod. Omigod. Omigod.