"Is this seat taken?" He didn't bother waiting for my answer, just yanked out the chair across from me and sat down.
Fortunately, I was still seated myself. That blinding smile of his had made the crotch of my jeans uncomfortably tight. "Are you old enough to be in here?"
"Ever heard of a fake ID?"
Well, hello again, Mr. Smartass. "As your teacher, I feel honor-bound to voice my disapproval."
"You're not my teacher--not in here, anyway." He shrugged. "In here, we're just two guys having a friendly chat."
I forced a chuckle. "Thank God for chance meetings."
"Not really. I was having dinner at that Thai place up the street. I saw you walk by."
"Oh, so you're stalking me now? Should I be worried?"
"I guess that depends on whether you're flattered or creeped out."
That certainly settled the "Is he or isn't he?" question, though not in a way that put me any more at ease--in fact, quite the opposite. Trying to deflect with more witty banter would only encourage him. Time to shut down this conversation.
I climbed to my feet and hastily zipped up my rain jacket. "I should be getting home. Have a pleasant evening, Matt."
I knew without looking that he'd trailed me to the bus stop. The rain had started again, so I ducked under the overhang. Matt stood a few feet away, out in the open, the hood of his jacket up. I could still feel his eyes on me.
Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. "What do you want?" I barked in the same tone I used in class whenever I wanted to scare the crap out of someone.
Didn't work. His smile only grew brighter. "I was going to offer to buy you a drink and let nature take its course, but it looks like that's off the menu."
"Knock it off, okay?" I sighed. "This isn't funny."
"Sorry. Thought you might be in the mood for a little flirting."
"Not really. But I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression."
He stepped closer, close enough to touch, those beautiful eyes of his raking me from head to foot. His gaze settled just below my belt. "Not at all."
The air was suddenly thick as ice. It was too damn hard to breathe. He gently brushed his hand across my cheek. Its heat burned worse than the tendonitis in my own hand, searing me inside and out. And God help me, I never wanted it to end.
"What do you want from me?" I rasped.
"The same thing I've wanted from that first day. The same thing you've wanted, too."
"You're wrong."
"Really?" he breathed. Then he showed me what a liar I was by capturing my mouth with his.
)
