Here’s another juicy excerpt from In Her Closet. This is when she meets Elijah Weinstein. I love this scene. Love this chapter, in fact. Buy it and you can love it, too!
A man approached me as I walked back to the cash wrap to collect my bag and head home. A damn fine man. Mmm, tasty, I thought as he offered me a smile.
“I’m Elijah Weinstein,” he said thrusting out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I could barely keep my mouth closed. This was Elijah Weinstein? If so, he was staggeringly attractive. Belatedly, I realized that he wore the charcoal-grey suit and green tie I’d been searching for all night. The color of his tie complemented his moss-green eyes. He reached for my hand and shook it, holding on far longer than was necessary for a greeting. Our hands swayed between us—a frizzle of friction forming between our palms.
“Nice to meet you,” I sighed, trying my best to keep from licking my lips.
“Sorry, I’m late. I got a little lost.”
“It’s okay. You want to have a seat?” I offered, gesturing to the table far away from the poetry reading.
“Of course, thank you.”
We sat and I couldn’t help looking him over again. Elijah Weinstein didn’t look anything like the man I’d anticipated. I thought I would be sitting across from a short, balding Jewish guy. The man who sat across from me was a tall, Abercrombie & Fitch model type with wavy, dirty blond hair and one of those goddamn sexy-ass smiles that made me weak—one that spread across his full lips like a secret. And that look on his face—both guarded and inquisitive. Was the curiosity that I saw there about me? I felt that familiar tingle of lusty heat between my thighs.
Tranquilo, Yves. Keep it professional.
“So you look nothing like I thought you would,” he admitted as if he’d been reading my thoughts.
“Oh? What were you expecting? Blonde? Buxom? Legs up to my neck?”
A shy smile pulled up the corner of his mouth. “Not quite like that, but mostly I didn’t expect you to be so…” he paused for a long moment, searching for the right words. “Exotic,” he finished.
“Exotic, huh?” I teased, laughing out loud.
He blushed. “I’m sorry. I know that sounds horrible—”
“Oh no, I’m not offended,” I interrupted in an attempt to set him at ease. “On the contrary, I’m quite flattered.” I raked a hand through my tangled curls. I’d been told I had sexy hair. Might as well play it up.
“Well, I’m flattered that you’re flattered,” he said. That shy smile spread across his lips again. The blush in his cheeks deepened and spread down his neck.
He’s not going to make this easy.
He cleared his throat. “So you write poetry? I had no idea.”
“I can write anything, but poetry was my start. Like all writers I have a notebook somewhere filled with super-angsty, teenage poems.”
“Angst? What reasons did you have to feel angst as a teenager?”
I leaned back in my chair, crossed my legs, and smiled. “Don’t all teenagers feel angst? I wasn’t always this exotic creature you see before you,” I answered jokingly. “I had my share of pimples and unrequited love.”
“I can hardly believe that. I haven’t been sitting here ten minutes and I’m already in love with you.”
Was he flirting with me? Naughty, naughty, naughty. I shook my head and laughed to myself. I would eat you alive, Elijah Weinstein. “How about we head out and get those drinks?”
Have you read, In Her Closet? Great! If you haven’t, here are some purchase links!
Kindle US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B005208EGA