Struck by Lightning. Christa Maurice
for the walk signal and centered her attention on him. If he made this too easy, it wasn’t going to be any fun. “I think that can be arranged.” She sipped her milk shake, keeping her eyes focused on his. The light changed and she started across the street with the hero at her heels.
“I didn’t catch your name last time. I’m Dan.”
“Hmm. A pleasure, Dan.” She didn’t look at him because she didn’t want to see his reaction, or lack of one, to her sarcastic tone. He really was making this too easy. “My name is Rebecca.”
“Rebecca,” he repeated like he was testing it. She wondered if it rang true for him. “So do you work around here, Rebecca?”
She stopped at the door and inserted the key in the lock. Behind her she heard his soft “oh.” The door swung open and she stepped inside. It felt cooler now, but that probably had more to do with the temperature on the street than the temperature in the building. She set her lunch bag on the desk, trying to close her sketchbook without alerting him to it. Wouldn’t do to have him learn she’d become obsessed with him. She turned around, expecting him to be right behind her.
But he wasn’t. He was standing on the step, staring at the window.
“Hey hero, are you coming in?” She walked around the desk and settled into the chair to eat. The food, even the coveted milk shake, didn’t have the same appeal anymore. Had to be the heat. Couldn’t be the guy. Guys never made her go all simpery and unable to eat.
The hero stepped through the door. His eyes were scanning the walls, so she took the opportunity to study him. No, her memory hadn’t changed his features in the least. He had an almost cartoon-like perfection. Like he’d just stumbled out of a Disney movie. Rebecca looked down, forcing herself to focus on spreading out her lunch. Billy’s comment about her drawing stories was throwing her, making her all mushy-headed. This guy was just entertainment. She’d also better stop thinking about Disney movies while she was at it because all that brought to mind was Princess Jasmine’s squeaky voice saying, “I choose you!” at the end of Aladdin.
“So what do you think?” she asked just before biting into her burger.
He nodded at one of Bess’s landscapes. “Nice.”
“That one’s not mine.” She pointed at the latest Broken Home. “That one’s mine.”
Had he winced as he turned to the piece? If he was slavishly obsessed with her, he would tell her how brilliant she was. Then she’d really be able to relegate him to toy status. She couldn’t enter a relationship with a dimwit who didn’t know bad art when it was hanging right in front of his face. And why was she thinking about a relationship anyway? She had a career to promote. No time for relationships.
“It’s interesting,” he finally said, turning away from the piece. “Billy said you drew.”
“I do.” She picked up a jojo and shoved it in her mouth, burning the roof for her trouble. She didn’t want to slip and let him know she held her own crap in contempt. She slurped milk shake to cool off her mouth and created a decidedly nasty flavor. She hoped Billy didn’t drink milk with jojos.
“Are any of these drawings yours?”
She shook her head and swallowed. “No, the landscapes are all Bess’s. I only do high art.”
“Is that what it’s called?” He sauntered over to the desk and leaned his hip against it, obviously trying to overwhelm her with his charm. “I guess I’m just not knowledgeable about art. Maybe you could teach me.”
Once upon a time, when she and Bess had been friends, she could have looked forward to having a great laugh over that line. Now, of course, she and Bess barely spoke and neither Max nor Billy would be as amused. Edie fluttered in long enough to drop off more stuff and pick up her share of the profits. Rebecca smiled up at the hero. “But what would I receive in return for these culture lessons?”
“Dinner? Tomorrow night? I know a nice little Ethiopian place.”
Ethiopian. Rebecca knew the only Ethiopian place in this corner of the state and it was traditional so everybody sat on the floor, giving him the opportunity to both impress his date with his taste while increasing his chance of sitting without having a pesky table between them. She wondered how many women had fallen for that. With those bright blue eyes? Probably dozens. He really did need to be notched down a couple of pegs. “I’m really not fond of Ethiopian. Do you know any Korean restaurants?”
The only Korean place within one hundred miles was a filthy hole in the wall that would spring squid on unsuspecting patrons. And he didn’t know it, by the look on his face. “I bet I could find one. What do you say?”
Rebecca leaned back in her chair, nursing her milk shake. She should be more amused by watching this gorgeous guy fall all over himself, and if it weren’t for the undercurrent of tension, she would be. This guy was not the usual catnip mouse to be played with, but didn’t that make him more challenging and therefore more fun?
The hero helped himself to one of her jojos and looked around the gallery again. “How is that shelf attached to the ceiling?”
Rebecca looked up. “I don’t know. Max did it.”
“Is it stable?”
“I guess so.” She remembered Max building that shelf. Standing on the very top of a seven-foot ladder screwing it into the ceiling and nearly strangling himself with the drill cord. She’d spent the entire time in a cold sweat, sure that he was going to fall and get himself killed.
“You should make sure it is. You don’t want that falling on your customers.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t tell me there would be a safety inspection.”
“Comes with the territory. If you want, I can come by some time and make sure it’s screwed into a joist.”
Next he’ll offer to fix my car, she thought. Oh wait, I don’t have a car. “I don’t think you have to worry about that. I’m sure Max did whatever he was supposed to. The building inspector looked at it.”
“Oh.” The hero looked crestfallen. Then he brightened. He reached for her hand, which she had left sitting on the desk instead of holding food or in her lap where he couldn’t get to it.
Now why did I leave myself open like that? I must be getting careless.
“You never did answer me about dinner,” he reminded her, curling her fingers around his palm with his thumb.
“I don’t know that I’m up for Korean right now.” She stood up, pulling her hand away, and walked to the other side of the gallery. She didn’t have time to play games with heroes. Her career needed her. Such as it was.
“Okay.” He stood up. “Maybe another time.”
“Yeah,” she answered, overplaying the brightness in her voice.
“Okay,” he said again. “But just in the interest of science, I’m out of uniform and it’s not raining.”
He’d crossed the gallery in three long strides and pulled her into his arms before she’d realized he wasn’t leaning on the desk any more. His tight embrace drew her up to her toes and she grabbed his shoulders for balance. He studied her for a long moment before leaning down to press his lips against hers. Rebecca closed her eyes, allowing every ounce of her to train on the pressure of his lips and the length of his body against hers. Her brain shorted out. Distantly, she felt the heat of the sun through the window and knew she shouldn’t be kissing anyone in the front window of the gallery where all the world could see.
But she really didn’t care. She couldn’t even think beyond the end of the kiss.
Which came sooner than she expected, just like the last kiss had.
He released her, dropping her back on her heels, and stepped back a pace. “Now you have