Surrender to Temptation Read Free Page A

mistaken, he’d paid a pretty penny for the jeans, and for the shirt, as well.
    I peeked under the table, no longer bothering to be subtle. Yup, I was right—his feet were clad in polished black loafers, not the flip-flops or even skater sneakers that most Californians wore on their off time.
    â€œDo they pass inspection?” Caught in the act, I snapped my stare back to the man’s face. My fascination with his footwear had brought on a small curve of his lips, and the result was so wicked, so enticing, that I picked up my wine and gulped, just to keep from drooling.
    What was I doing? My life was in shambles. I was in no place to be having lustful thoughts about anyone, let alone some tall, dark, and handsome stranger. Sex would only complicate things.
    â€œI’m Devon.” Panicked when his smirk suggested that he knew where my thoughts had run, I blurted out my name. The words wanted to keep coming, and they seemed beyond my control, so I shoveled a forkful of meat between my lips and instantly wished I hadn’t.
    The meal that I had been so enjoying earlier in the evening now tasted like sand, scraping at the tender insides of my throat.
    â€œIs it not to your liking?” Before I could say a word, the man had signaled my waitress, who of course came right over.
    I would have done very nearly anything this man asked, too.
    â€œClear away the lady’s plate, please. Bring a bowl of berries, if you have them, with cream.” Where I would have been apologetic for sending my meal back without having finished, my dinner partner spoke as if he knew that he would be obeyed without a fuss.
    Of course, he was.
    â€œDid it occur to you that I might not have been done?” I wasn’t sure that I liked having my decisions taken away from me, and I felt the start of a frown between my brows.
    He cocked his wineglass in my direction and took another sip. “Was I wrong?” His tone, of course, told me that he knew he was no such thing. I wasn’t about to lie, either, so instead I narrowed my eyes at him.
    Grumpiness seemed to be my only defense against the attraction that was consuming me, attraction that I knew he couldn’t possibly return.
    â€œIt would be nice to know the name of the man who is feeding me dessert without dinner.” There. I’d surprised him again. I smirked and sat back in my chair, pleased to have scored a point in this strange game that we were playing.
    â€œIt’s Zach—Zach.” He seemed to cut himself off.
    â€œZach.” I rolled the name around on my tongue, decided it suited him—mostly—though it wasn’t quite as dark and intriguing as he was.
    I told him so. “I was expecting something more like ‘Count Vladimir the Third.’” Zach blinked, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if I’d offended him or delighted him. When a full smile, a real one, broke out over his face for the first time since I’d laid eyes on him, I concluded that it was the latter.
    â€œI find you so refreshing.” He leaned in closer to me and my breath caught in my throat.
    I didn’t know what I was expecting—didn’t even know what I was hoping for—but when he again relaxed back in his chair, I felt oddly deflated.
    The silence stretched out, and while Zach seemed content with it, I squirmed.
    â€œWhere are you from?” His expression darkened at the question. I couldn’t fathom what was wrong with what I had asked, but I felt the need to apologize.
    â€œI’d much rather hear about you.” I was aware of the overly smooth change of subject, but if the man wasn’t going to talk, I certainly couldn’t make him. I didn’t much want to, either, but I’d had just enough wine, and was feeling just off balance enough emotionally that once I started to talk, I couldn’t stop.
    â€œI’m from Sacramento. Well, not originally. I was born in D.C. And I guess I