Page 5 of It's a Widow Thing

“What kind of appointment?” Zoe asked, lightning fast and always inquisitive.

Michael hated that Alyshia had brought this up in front of Zoe, but it was only because she was concerned. Everyone who knew about Michael’s “cardiac event” was worried. He’d intentionally kept that circle very small—his two younger brothers, Brian and Daniel, and Alyshia. Neither of his parents were aware of his health crisis, nor was his other sister-in-law, Erika, who was eight months pregnant and prone to oversharing. Michael wasn’t ready to open up that particular can of worms. His mom would lose it. Meanwhile, Michael was doing his best to ignore the fact that he now had a cardiologist. “I’m just seeing the doctor, Zoe. Taking care of your health is important.”

“Oh. Okay,” Zoe said.

“We’re pulling up to school, Michael,” Alyshia said. “Take care of yourself.”

“Love you, Uncle Michael!” Zoe shouted into the phone.

“Love you, too.” Michael hung up, then took one more look at the clock, chugged his coffee, and rushed out of his apartment. If he didn’t hurry, he was going to miss Sabrina at the elevator. Yes, things had gone horribly after the kiss out on the terrace at the Van Cleeves’ party, but he wasn’t about to be defeated. He had to keep trying. He made double time down the hall, juggling his belongings while wrestling on his suit jacket.

Sabrina wasn’t waiting for the elevator but Michael was certain he hadn’t missed her. If he had, the air would be infused with her perfume, the heady fragrance that made him want to have her for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Sure enough, he heard a door close down the hall. Seconds later, the faintest touch of her warm, floral aroma teased his nose.

She rounded the corner in a sleek black dress suitable for the office, but that still hugged every inch of her dangerous curves. “Oh. Morning, Michael.”

It was as if someone had robbed his brain of all clear thought. He loved it when she said his name. How he longed to hear her say it with her lustrous raven hair splayed all over the pillow next to his, preferably with the sheet covering as little of her as possible. “Good morning, gorgeous.” He winced.That sounded like a total line.

One corner of her mouth turned up as she pressed the button for the lobby. “Were you waiting for a kindly stranger to come by and call the elevator for you?”

Shit. Could I make it any more obvious?“No. Just have a lot on my mind this morning.” The elevator opened and he was relieved to see that no one on the floors above would be with them for their short ride to the lobby.Just us. Perfect.“After you.” Being a gentleman was of paramount importance, but he couldn’t help but appreciate the view as he trailed her.That dress should be illegal. And on my bedroom floor.

As the doors whooshed shut, her electric aquamarine eyes connected with his. Those blue-green jewels were so stunning, so sparkly and full of life, that it was just as rewarding to look at them as it was to fixate on what he could see of her tempting décolletage. “Off to work?” she asked.

“Yep. It’s part of my job.” He wanted to slap his forehead.You’d think I could find a way to keep from being so stupid.“How’s the makeup game?”

She stepped closer to him as the elevator stopped on the third floor and let on a distinguished man in his sixties or seventies. “It’s great.”

“Real beauty empire, eh?” Michael ran his hand over his bald head, noticing how the man who’d joined them wouldn’t stop stealing looks at Sabrina. Michael never doubted his ability to outdo any guy in the room, whether it came to smarts or wits or looks. He’d been unfairly blessed and women wasted little time letting him know how much they appreciated his assets. Sabrina was another case. Never before had he encountered a woman who needed deciphering. Did she even like him? He still wasn’t sure and that made him second-guess himself like crazy.

There was something about her—she was a puzzle, quite possibly with thousands of pieces, and he was only beginning to find them. She was quick with dry and razor-sharp retorts, but her manners were polished and impeccable. She deflected compliments and innuendo, but seemed to enjoy it when he made her laugh. Just when he thought she would react one way, she did a one-eighty.

She certainly had him questioning his skills after that single, dizzying, hold-on-for-dear-life, where-have-you-been-all-this-time kiss. Her lips had been so plump and luscious, his attraction to her so potent, that it had given him the same butterflies he’d had when he was a teenager. A first kiss hadn’t held that kind of excitement in eons. His chest ached. His head swam. Everything below the waist buzzed and hummed. Of course, all that excitement was crammed into five seconds of mind-blowing electricity, punctuated by Sabrina’s subsequent escape.

The elevator dinged as it reached the ground floor. He held the door, following her across the marble-floored lobby, through the revolving doors and out to the street. The sun beamed brightly on the first truly crisp day of October.Nothing like autumn in New York.

Sabrina slipped on a black trench coat and pulled a pair of oversized sunglasses from her purse. “Have a good day,” she said, turning to walk down the street.

Michael grasped her arm. “Sabrina. Wait.”

“Yes?” Sabrina lowered her sunglasses and peered up at him. In heels, she had to be at least 5’10”. Thank God he was over 6’2”. It left him with a shred of advantage. She gave off the most powerful, authoritative vibe in those shoes—she could’ve persuaded a lot of men to do incredibly foolish things while wearing them.

Just say it.“Have dinner with me.”

A purely satisfied smile rolled across her face, her lips begging to be kissed. Again. “Dinner?”

“Yes. It’s the meal typically served at the end of the day.”Good one.He was always thankful when he had a comeback. Much of the time she buried him with her half of the conversation.

She pushed her sunglasses back into place. “Are we talking dinner?” She made air quotes. “Or dinner?”

He swallowed.Screw food.“Dinner” would be oh-so-preferable. “Just dinner. Although, fair warning, there might be candles and wine.”

“Sounds like a trap.”

“Something tells me you’d have no problem escaping.”

“I do own bolt cutters.”

“So that’s a yes?” He wasn’t about to crash and burn, even when all signs pointed to that as his fate.