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appointment. Want to get a cup of coffee?”
     
    For the first time that day, she felt a little lightheaded, as if she’d sat up too quickly after the tattoo session. “I don’t have much time.” She bit the inside of her lip, shooting a glance at the clock on the wall. Jess’s art club meeting would end in forty-five minutes and her high school was a twenty minute drive from the tattoo studio.
     
    “There’s a place right across the street,” Eric offered, his blue eyes clear and inviting. His biceps strained his sleeves as he shifted his stance and Mina found herself wondering what might be inked across them – she was sure there was something . There had to be. Whoever heard of a tattoo artist with no tattoos? If his looked half as perfect as the rest of him, they had to be amazing.
     
    “OK.” She smiled tentatively and her nerves buzzed as he took a step forward, coming within a hairsbreadth of invading her personal space.
     
    “Let me grab my jacket.” He took a few long strides forward and plucked a simple black jacket from a hook in the lobby, then slipped into it, placing yet another layer of concealing clothing over his tempting biceps and whatever designs might be inked across them.
     
    They passed a couple people languishing on a comfortable couch, perhaps waiting for appointments, and Eric held the door open for Mina. She flashed him a small smile as she stepped out into the chilly fall air. A gust of wind tossed her loose hair around her neck like a scarf, and her nipples pricked instantly against her shirt. Fortunately, her jacket was thick enough to hide them from Eric. Though he’d spent hours with his hands on her body, this was different. The gloves were gone and he was looking at her – just her – as they started down the sidewalk, walking side by side. She wasn’t his client anymore. She was…well, maybe not his date, exactly. But something like that.
     
    The soles of her boots scuffed against the sidewalk, conspiring with the breeze and scattering leaves to form an awkward symphony. She should say something. But what?
     
    “So, are you from around here?” Eric turned his startlingly blue gaze upon her and her stomach flip-flopped.
     
    “Not originally,” she said, burying her hands in her pockets as much as for something to do as to warm them. “My family moved around a lot when I was a kid.” By family she meant herself, Jess, their mother and whatever boyfriend-of-the-month had been living with them at the time, but there was no need to bring that up. She and Eric were having a quick cup of coffee, not pouring out their life stories over a bottle of expensive wine. Or whatever people drank when they bared their souls to someone else. Presumably, it was alcoholic.
     
    “Oh yeah?”
     
    She nodded. “Originally, I’m from Chicago, though I haven’t lived there since I was about three.” That was when her father had left and her mother had begun the patternless string of relocations that would characterize Mina’s entire childhood. No matter where they’d gone, Mina’s mother had never found happiness, and Mina had lived in the shadow of her discontent, an afterthought in her mother’s constant search for something different. Ironically, she’d made the same poor decisions time after time, perhaps thinking that living in a different city meant she’d finally get different results. “What about you?”
     
    He shrugged. “Been living here my whole life.”
     
    “It’s not so bad here.” Pittsburg wasn’t too big or too small. It was just right, as far as she was concerned.
     
    He nodded. “Not bad at all.”
     
    The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted toward Mina on a sudden breeze, mouthwatering. Eric held the café door open for her, and the bite of the wind was replaced by perfectly warmed air and a dozen tempting scents. Her nervousness ebbed as her stomach rumbled lowly. She’d had a snack in the car on her way to the tattoo studio, but