“Yes.” He deadpans. “Try to keep up.” Then, with that same playful straight face, he adds, “And since you’re going to inevitably turn me down, you would’ve done me the simple kindness of calling me sexy. Your good deed for the day.”
“I won’t turn you down,” I say quickly, eyes locked on his, voice just a little lower. Breathier.
He doesn’t break eye contact. Just offers his hand, palm up. “Grant.”
I slide mine into his. “Eslin.”
“Besides, Eslin,” he says with a wicked grin, still holding onto my hand. “You’d totally make my ghost jealous.”
Do Black girls turn red when they blush? Becausemy goodness,my face is on fire.
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I manage, grinning while regretfully pulling my hand away to brush back a piece of non-existent stray hair.
“That you’re so hot you’d make my dead wife jealous?”
I throw my head back and howl. “Did you really justsaythat?”
He shrugs, all casual. “Does it bother you that I’m weird? A little dark?”
I shake my head, eyes dancing. “You actually just got ten times sexier.”
He beams. “Hey, Eslin?”
“Yeah?”
“Want to go for a walk?”
I smile, slow and sure. “I’d love to.”
Chapter two
Candlelight & Confessions
Grant
One month ago in Las Vegas
This woman is out of my league.
She walks in like she owns the air around her. All poise and edges, like the room bends just slightly to watch her move.
Her skin catches the low light—rich, smooth, the kind of beauty that isn’t fair, not in a place like this. Not for a man like me. Thick, long, dread locs tumble down her back. And those eyes—sharp, knowing, framed by lashes that could cut a lesser man down with a single look.
She’s dressed in a soft and elegant halter dress, wrapped high at the neck and bare at the shoulders, the fabric hugging curves that don’t need an introduction. No loud colors, no flashy jewelry. She doesn’t need it. This woman turns heads because she’sher.
And I’ve got no business wanting her. Hell, I’ve got no business looking at her.
But I can’t stop.
I don’t bother wasting time waving the bartender down—just settle the tab with a flick of my card. Then I glance at Eslin. “Ready?”
She nods, a little too eagerly, and damn if that doesn’t hit somewhere deep. The way she looks at me—open, curious, like I’m something worth discovering.
Historic artifacts usually are.
I’m hit with it fast and hard—this woman is exactly the type I’ve been drawn to lately. Young. Gorgeous. All that effortless energy, the kind that burns hot and never stays. Just temporary enough to make an old bastard like me forget every promise I’ve made to behave.
But then again...I’ve heard the saying plenty—Black don’t crack. So as I fall into step beside Eslin, I’m sending up a silent prayer to whoever’s listening that she’s older than she looks.