Forbidden Fantasies Bundle(106)
“I’m fine,” Zoë said. But she hadn’t been a thousand miles away. She’d just been totally focused on a man who sat at a table in the main dining room only a few yards away.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been staring at him before Sierra had pulled her attention back. She’d noticed him earlier when he’d been talking to Rad, the Blue Pepper’s other owner, at the reservation desk, and she’d felt a strange sort of recognition—as if she’d met him before. Her first thought was that he’d been one of the many single men she’d interviewed when she’d been collecting data for Sierra’s study.
But she would have remembered him. Just looking at him had a lick of lust moving through her. Sexy and elegant were the words that had come to mind as she’d watched the stranger follow Rad to the table. The purposeful way he moved in the impeccably tailored suit reminded her a little of the image she’d created in her mind of Lucifer—all that easy sophistication on the outside that didn’t quite mask the aura of danger beneath.
She’d sensed a similar contrast in Jed. Although he could in no way be described as elegant on the outside. No. Jed had rough edges, and this man epitomized the word smooth. But Jed Calhoun definitely had that same hint of danger hiding beneath the beach boy façade.
In a sense, the two men were very like Lucifer in that respect. Lucifer. How interesting, she thought suddenly. After spending six months filling her notebooks with fantasies about the superspy, she hadn’t spared him more than a passing thought since she’d met Jed Calhoun.
Then she noticed another similarity between Jed and the stranger. Glasses aside, in profile, they both had the same strong chin, straight nose and the kind of cheekbones that one saw on a warrior’s face.
She lifted her wineglass and finished the last swallow. Zoë was dimly aware of the separate conversations going on behind her. When they’d arrived at the Blue Pepper, they’d been joined by two of the Gibbs sisters’ friends, Sophie McBride and Mac Wainwright.
Sierra and Mac, who both taught at Georgetown, were talking about faculty politics while Sophie Wainwright was telling Natalie and Rory Gibbs all about the latest art pieces that had arrived in her antique shop. Zoë knew she should turn and join in one of the conversations, but for some reason, she couldn’t seem to pull either her mind or her gaze away from the stranger at the table.
When he turned slowly just then and met her gaze, Zoë felt that same little shock of recognition she’d felt when she’d first seen him. This time it was so intense that her mind drained of all thought. At the same time, she could feel her whole body become aware of him. It was almost as if he’d touched her and sparked a little flame deep inside of her. For an instant, everything around her—the conversations, the music from the patio, even the people lined up three deep around the bar—faded. She could have sworn that she and the stranger were totally alone in the restaurant.
“Zoë?”
From very far away, Zoë could hear someone calling her name.
“Zoë, are you sure you’re all right?”
Zoë tried to focus, but it wasn’t until the man glanced away that she could turn to face Sierra again.
“I’m fine,” she managed. But she wasn’t fine. Her skin felt icy and hot at the same time. She leaned closer to Sierra. “Look at that man over there at the table near the railing.”
Sierra shifted her gaze. “Handsome.” Then she grinned and nudged her elbow into Zoë’s arm. “Zoë McNamara, you’re actually ogling a man!”
“Of course, she is,” Rory said, moving closer. “Wearing the right kind of lingerie can change your whole attitude toward men.”
“I’m not ogling,” Zoë protested. “Exactly.” But wasn’t that exactly what she was doing? And she didn’t think that it had anything to do with the sexy red lace panties that Rory had insisted she wear under the borrowed jeans and the lacy camisole top. She was afraid the ogling had everything to do with the man.
“Where is he?” Rory asked.
“Over there at the table near the railing.” Zoë moved her head in the stranger’s direction. She didn’t want to point. “Doesn’t he remind you of someone?”
Sierra studied him for a moment. “James Bond—the one played by Pierce Brosnan.”
“I don’t mean a movie star. I’m thinking of a real person,” Zoë said.
“Haven’t a clue.” Sierra shifted her gaze to her sisters and their friends. “Look at the man sitting at the table near the railing. Zoë wants to know who he reminds you of.”