Stop staring at his crotch. I went over to my usual chair and parked myself in it before I broke out into a blush all over my body. I was three-quarters Scottish, and my fair skin had a habit of betraying my emotions by very noticeably pinking it.

“Constantine Costa,” he finally answered.

“Um.” The nervous lip biting didn’t do wonders for concealing my feelings, either. “Is that with a C or a K? Er, um, both names?” When I dared to look at the man, the handsome grin on his face had me stirring in my seat. “I’m sorry.” He was likely smiling at my question in a ha-ha what’s-wrong-with-this-chick way and nothing more. “I work mostly with kids who are missing their two front teeth,” I explained. “Sometimes, I forget who I’m talking to.”

“And what is it that you do?” He brought the ice pack to the side of his face, stretching his jaw muscle from left to right.

“I’m a pediatric nurse at New York-Presbyterian. Lower Manhattan location. Hence the teddy-bear blue scrubs.” I eyed my chipped nails that desperately needed a new coat. “Do you have kids? Maybe you brought them there recently? We’ve only been living here since January, though.”

“No kids.” He set the ice pack on his thigh, staring at me in the strangest way, like someone seeing color for the first time after living in only black and white.

I’m projecting again. But your eyes. That smile. Voice. It was . . . familiar. Intimately so. But it can’t possibly be you. No. No way.

“Where were you before here?” he asked.

I didn’t feel the need to give him an entire play-by-play of my life and accompanying addresses, so I offered up “Florida,” ready to move on.

He lifted one questioning brow and asked, “And his father?”

Not what I was interested in talking about with a stranger, even if he didn’t feel like one. “Not in the picture.” Best I’d give him.

“Are you dating anyone?”

“Excuse me?” I stood, my chair sliding back. “Not your business.” While I needed to play nice with him since he could call in the cavalry and have my son arrested, I didn’t owe him answers about my personal life.

“I apologize.” He set the ice pack on the table and rose. Resting a hand over his heart, he requested, “Forgive me?” He lifted his chin, catching my eyes. The sparkle in those deep brownish-black irises was dangerously alluring. And once again, very much familiar.

I toyed with the drawstring of my pants, and he tracked the movement of my fingers, so I let go. “We could consider it a wash. You know, I forgive you for your inappropriate question, and you forgive my son for stealing?”

He hid his hands in his pockets, straightening to his full height. “Feels a little off-balance of a trade.”