Page 8 of To Catch a Latte Thick as Thieves

“Guess? Aha!” He pointed at her. “You weren’t a Scout.”

“No, I was, but I didn’t make it out of Brownies,” she confessed. He crossed his arms over his chest, awaiting her explanation. Annie mumbled, “I failed comp-fur-coo-gig.”

“Excuse me,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. He was teasing her! “I couldn’t make that out.”

She hung her head to hide her laughter and said, “I failed campfire cooking. Okay? Are you happy now?”

“You failed cooking?” he repeated. Annie glanced up at him through her lashes and saw his lips twitch.

“No, I failed campfire cooking. They wanted us to roast hot dogs on sticks. Do you know what’s in those things? Yuck! I just couldn’t do it.”

“So you failed out of Scouts because you’re a food snob,” he concluded with a laugh.

“Um...basically...yeah.” She smiled. She’d never thought of her shop as huge, but with Fisher standing in the middle of it, it seemed dwarfed by his presence. Just looking up at him made her dizzy. “How about some Death by Chocolate?”

“What by what?”

“You’ve never had Death by Chocolate?”

He shook his head.

“Let me tell you, it beats the heck out of ‘Smores.’ Sit.” She gestured him toward a seat at the counter while she circled it. She slid open the back door to the refrigerated display case and pulled out the decadent torte. She could feel his eyes upon her as she cut him a man-size wedge. Filling a glass of ice-cold milk to go with it, she pushed the plate in front of him.

He eyed the plate as if it were lethal. It was to her hips, but he didn’t need to know that. Handing him a fork, she said, “Try it.”

Fisher tucked into the torte as if it were as innocuous as apple pie. He paused in midchew, and his eyes bugged at Annie in awed delight. He mumbled something that sounded like a benediction, but then shut his eyes as a look of bliss crept across his face.

Wow! Annie felt her pulse skitter somewhere south. She had hoped to coax a smile out of him, but this...She wasn’t prepared for this. She watched as he took a drink of milk from the glass. She watched it slide down his throat and felt her own mouth go dry. As he set the glass back down, one corner of his mouth tipped up in a devil’s grin, parting just enough for her to see a glimpse of teeth. His brown eyes twinkled at her, and Annie was pretty sure there wasn’t going to be enough left of her to mop up with a sponge.

She watched him eat. She knew she was staring, but she couldn’t help it. If he looked that sexy eating Death by Chocolate, then what would he look like... She shook her head, glanced away, and then back.

She watched him suck the last of the chocolate off of his fork, and she felt the back of her neck grow hot. Horrified, she jerked upright, yanking his plate away from him as she went. This was way more than she had bargained for.

Dumping the plate in the sink, she flipped on the tap and drowned the plate as if it held her desire and not just chocolate crumbs. She couldn’t have those sort of feelings for her tenant. He lived across the hall from her for Pete’s sake! If she let him get under her skin, she’d never sleep again.

“You forgot these.”

“What?” She spun to find him just behind her, holding a fork and an empty glass.

He reached around her to deposit them in the sink and she felt his arm press against hers. The contact sizzled. She glanced at his face. He showed no sign of awareness. Instead, his dark brown eyes seemed to be studying her, as if looking for something. Annie couldn’t comprehend what and she couldn’t look away.

He was the first to straighten. “Thanks for the dessert.”

“You’re welcome,” she forced the words out.

“Do you want me to walk you up?” he asked.

“No,” she said swiftly, too swiftly. “I mean, that is, I have some bookkeeping to do before I turn in.”

“All right.” He stepped back toward the door. “I’ll say good-night then.”

“Good night,” she croaked.

“Sweet dreams, Annie-girl,” he said and disappeared up the back stairs to the apartments above.

Annie wilted against the sink like a cake falling after a loud bang. The man was intoxicating and she didn’t have to try to touch her finger to her nose to know that she was drunk.

Fisher slapped a hand down on his snooze button.