look so serious,” she said. She’d finished her soup now and was breaking off more pieces of it and tossing them to the birds. Pigeons scampered around her sexy black boots, hoping to be the next recipient of her goodwill.
Alex forced a smile and took a drink of his Coke. “Just worried that one of these birds is going to dive bomb us if we don’t get moving soon.”
Had he really been stupid enough to think he could resolve ten years of wanting with a few nights of great sex? Had he really believed the situation wouldn’t get any more complicated than it already was?
Damn it, he had. Maybe deep down, he’d known he would be walking into a no-win situation, but he’d fooled himself.
Having tossed her last bit of bread and finished her drink, Yasmine gazed at the row of cheesy tourist shops lining the street across from where they sat. “I think we have to buy some T-shirts, don’t we? Isn’t that the rule if you come down here—you have to leave with a shirt that declares your love for San Francisco?”
“I’m no expert.”
“How about, I’ll pick out a shirt for you, and you pick one out for me?”
“How about we just skip the T-shirt thing? I thought we were shopping for snow globes.”
“Don’t try to distract me with plastic trinkets,” Yasmine said as she took his hand and tugged him toward the strip of shops. “I’m buying a shirt, and that’s final.”
Her hand in his felt right as they walked, felt like the kind of comfort he hadn’t realized he’d been wanting for a long time. He glanced over at her and was struck by the sensation that she recognized him. Fear shot through him, but he did his best to show no emotion.
“What?” he said when she continued to stare at him.
“It’s weird,” she said as they waited at the traffic light to cross. “I occasionally get the feeling we’ve known each other before.”
“Maybe we’ve bumped into each other around town somewhere. I jog in Golden Gate Park pretty often, usually around Stowe Lake.”
Had she detected the slight note of tension in his voice that he’d failed to hide?
“I doubt that’s it. I just can’t think where we might have met.”
Alex’s stomach churned as he scrambled for a way to change the subject. His gaze settled on the nearest shop, its entrance crowded with racks of T-shirts and its display window filled with trinkets, including snow globes. “Looks like we’ve found our destination,” he said.
It worked—instant distraction. Yasmine headed for the nearest rack and grabbed a bright-orange shirt that read ‘Orange you glad I visited San Francisco?”
She held it up and smiled. “This is perfect for you.”
“That’s the dumbest T-shirt I’ve ever seen.”
“Exactly. Now you have to find an even worse one for me.”
Alex gave her a look, but she draped the shirt over her arm and wandered farther into the store. He wanted to find something to dislike about her, something that would bring him back to Earth and show him that no matter how perfect she seemed, she really was a common criminal.
He just needed a little more time. Another day or two would be enough for him to dig up the truth. Either that or fall head over heels in love.
WHO KNEW DECORATING a tree could turn into such an erotic undertaking?
Yasmine watched the tiny white lights twinkling and felt for a moment as though she was a little girl again, filled with the excitement of Christmas Eve. All the possibilities, the promise of goodies to come, the mystery of presents to be puzzled over and opened.
But then she remembered she was lying naked next to a guy she’d known less than a month, and the evening took on a whole different sense of possibility.
After an afternoon of wandering the shops and sites around the Wharf and Pier 39, they’d returned to Yasmine’s apartment and set about decorating the tree, a task that had resulted in each of them getting more undressed for every item of clothing that the tree put on.
“I don’t want to hear a word about my ornaments,” she said when she caught him looking at the tree, a smile playing on his lips.
“I didn’t say anything.” He looked at the cat, perched on the back of the table next to them. “Did you hear me say anything?”
Milo blinked at him.
“You were about to critique, I could tell.”
“I’m just awed by your creativity, that’s all.”
She’d seen a decorating show that