Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Maybe. I wasn’t sure.
I felt like I was beginning to know Noah, but obviously, there was so much more to learn. The partial knowledge of something sinister connected to him offered a false sense of intimacy I didn’t trust. I needed to see him myself, bask in his sunny, glittery aura while he asked me about protons and star stuff. I wanted to whisper dirty commands in his ear, and…I wanted to touch him.
But my strict ethical code had been compromised. I’d snooped and dug where I shouldn’t have. I might not know the whole story, but I had to come clean.
I sat on pins and needles at a romantic table for two surrounded by dreamy-eyed couples, plucking at my collar nervously, willing myself to be cool when a stranger flopped onto the chair across from me.
Noah?
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Professor. I thought I’d be here first, but I don’t know Pasadena at all. I made the wrong turn on Del Mar and drove a mile before I realized what I’d done.” He leaned his elbows on the table and fluttered his lashes at me lasciviously. “Ooh, you look handsome.”
Yep, that was Noah.
Except he didn’t look like Noah. His damp, dark hair took on an iridescent sheen in the candlelight and his eyes twinkled in greeting, but his appearance was otherwise rather…subdued. No glitter on his cheeks and eyelids, no guy-liner, no lip gloss. He wore a plain navy V-neck sweater with the hint of a white tee underneath and designer jeans. Nice for sure, but…different.
Funny that this morning I’d wondered what he’d looked like in his sporty persona. I had my answer…impossibly handsome, masculine, and as wickedly out of my league as the more fabulous version of him. And I was definitely not immune.
I licked my lips, grateful when our waiter stopped by to take our drink order and recite the specials. I shifted my gaze to the menu, nodding as if enthralled with the selection. I expected Noah to ask a few questions and charm the young man into bringing extra bread and a pitcher of sangria posthaste, but he went curiously quiet and left all the necessary communication with me.
Right. He liked it when I took control. My cock stirred at the memory of his low gravelly admission, “I like the idea of someone else being in charge.” And now I had a semi.
Great.
I ordered red wine sangrias, chicken-and-veggie empanadas, a fig-and-sausage flatbread for appetizers, and asked for more time to select our entrees.
Noah smiled when the waiter assured us bread and sangria were on the way, then sipped his water as he scanned the nearby tables. “This is nice.”
“I’ve never been here. My friend, Asher, suggested it. He and his boyfriend have become foodies. You know…they like food. I like food too, but I don’t think I like it the same way. As they say, some people eat to live, others live to eat. I’m in the first category,” I babbled nervously. “How about you?”
“Uh, well, a little of both, I guess. I’m not a great cook, but I love cooking shows and—”
“Sangria and warm bread, gentlemen.” Our waiter set a pitcher and basket on the table between us, and poured our drinks. “I’ll let you peruse the menu. Flag me down if you have any questions. Your appetizers will be up shortly.”
Noah lifted his glass in a toast. I sipped the fruity wine concoction, wracking my brain for conversational tidbits and coming up empty. I was tongue-tied and suddenly more nervous than I’d been since my haircut. I didn’t know how to talk to jocks unless they were happily paired with one of my friends or shared rent and utility bills.
But this was Noah.
“You don’t look like yourself,” I blurted. “I mean, you look…nice. Just different. But nice too.”
The corner of his lips lifted in a pirate-like half smile. “Thanks?”
“I’m sorry. I—”
“Don’t be. This is how guys like Jeff and Rick dress for dates. I thought it would help if I looked the part. And I’ve always had a thing for costume changes. I love the theater.”
Oh. Okay.
I fussed with the stitching on the napkin in my lap and studied the menu. “I took the liberty of studying the entrees. The osso buco looks good, if you’re a meat lover. I’m thinking of having the salmon myself. They have tapas plates too and—why?”
Noah glanced up from his menu. “Why…tapas?”
“Why do you like theater? That’s a date question, by the way.”
He beamed. “That’s a good one. I like the idea of slipping into character and being someone else for a while.”
“I see. But I hope you know that I like you the way you are.”
His expression was unreadable for a beat; then it brightened. The transformation threw me off guard.
“Thank you.”
The waiter set our appetizers on the table and cast a friendly smile between us. “Are you ready to order?”